O. If I have lost my strength and fame,
And nought of Finian worth remains,
Thy cleric rank I slightly prize
With all its gloomy strains.
Poor Ossian will not receive the new doctrine of the saint; and his arguments with Patrick are not of a very edifying character. The saint, in order to convey to the bard some conception of the Creator’s omniscience, says that it would not be possible for the smallest midge to enter heaven without His knowledge. But the bard exclaims in reply, that that was very different from Finn, son of Cuhal, in his hospitable hall. Thousands might enter, partake of his cheer, and depart without notice. At last Patrick gets somewhat impatient with his rather unsatisfactory pupil, and requests Ossian to give up his elegiac strains over the departed glory of the Clan Baoisgne, and relate the particulars of some hunt, battle, or adventure. The old warrior-bard is nothing loth, and is consoled for the moment by the recital of the deeds of his perished kinsmen, the Fianna. As usual he ends with a wild burst of sorrow for having survived them all.
“Ossian and Evir-Alin” has been a great favourite. In this ballad we have the great poet’s wooing of the beautiful Evir described. He sets out with twelve youths to ask the daughter of Branno “of the silver beakers.” Hitherto the maiden refused the sons of kings and nobles, and even the great gloomy chieftain Cormac, whom she particularly disliked. After necessary preliminary questions the ballad (in Pattison’s translation) proceeds:—
“High is the place, O Ossian!
Do men’s tongues to thee assign;
If I twelve daughters had,” said Branno,
“The best of them should be thine.”