4 Those cropping mallows near a shrub, And broom-roots 'is' their food.
5 From the midst they are cast out, (They shout against them as a thief),
6 In a frightful place of valleys to dwell, Holes of earth and clefts.
7 Among shrubs they do groan, Under nettles they are gathered together.
8 Sons of folly -- even sons without name, They have been smitten from the land.
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