Fian's camp,
Breast refreshed and belly damp.
Hill to lowland, outlaws romp.
With pomp, Fionn's warriors stamp.

Mires of peat,
Mossy turf 'neath nimble feet,
Depressed and scarred by Morna's men,
And then by Bascna's, just as fleet.

Lofty tor,
Seat of the Rígfénnid Mhór,
Slopes where arms and hearts are honed.
Intoned lays from sweet tongues pour!