Kirtled

I have oft heard My mother Circe with the Sirens three, Amidſt the flowery-kirtled Naiades, Culling their potent herbs, and baleful drugs, Who, as they ſung, would take the priſon'd ſoul, And lap it in Elyſium; […]

And bounding hand in hand, man link'd to man, Yelling their uncouth dirge, long daunced the kirtled clan

From out that beaming look, to know what thoughts Within the barb-leaved hart's-tongue dwell— The purple eye petalled with snow, that floats So gracefully:—dost think the damosel, Young Hope, kirtled with Chastity, there fell Into the stream, and grew a flower so fair?

[…] [W]e had more recently an importation of wild Albanians kirtled to the knee, some eleven hundred of them, the forerunners of larger detachments,—on their way to the Hedjoz on service,—and these things, some folks said, were significant.