From the large green-hued bottle on the festive board.
We never read in the older ballads of such non-primitive things as bottles. Am botul mor glas, which the liberal Finn would place on the table, must have belonged to the fifteenth century. The good qualities of Finn are not yet exhausted.
Of noble mind and form and of a winning mien—
His people’s Head—he walked with step so firm, serene.
In Banva of the hills the fame of war he sought;
There battles twice fifteen the royal Fingal fought.
Assistance for the weak MacCuhail ne’er withheld,
In heart and on his lips no falsehood ever dwelled.
Finn never grudged his aid, his people ne’er oppressed—
The King above all kings, the sun above the rest.