We had our dress and our armour When we went forth to the chase; There was no Fian amongst us all Without his fine soft flaxen shirt, Without his under coat of substance soft, Without a coat of mail of brightest steel, The covering for his head adorned with gems, And in his hand he bore two spears, Besides a fierce and conquering shield, And sword that never failed to cleave the skull. Wert thou to search the universe Thou would’st not find a braver man than Finn; Of noblest race and fairest form, No arm from him could carry victory. As he went forth to try his snow-white hound Who ’mongst us all was like to Finn? Westward we went, an ordered band, To hunt on the “Fair maids’ hill.” O Patrick, pupil of the church’s head, Bright was the sun above us, As in the midst of us sat Finn. Eastward and westward sweetly rung, From hill to hill the voice of hounds, Arousing boars and harts. Then Finn and Bran[49] did sit alone A little while upon the mountain side, Each of them panting for the chase, Their fierceness and their wrath aroused. Then did we unloose three thousand hounds Of matchless vigour and unequalled strength. Each of the hounds brought down two deer, Long ere ’twas time to bind them in their thongs. That day there fell six thousand deer, Down in the vale that lies beneath the hill; There never fell so many deer and roe In any hunt that e’er till this took place. But sad was the chase down to the east, Thou cleric of the church and bells, Ten hundred of our hounds, with golden chains, Fell wounded by ten hundred boars: Then by our hands there fell the boars, Which wrought the ill upon the plain. And were it not for blades and vigorous arms, That chase had been a slaughter.
O Patrick of the holy crosier, Eastward or westward, hast thou ever seen, Another chase, in all thy days, Greater than that of Finn and of the Feine? This then was the hunt of Finn, Thou son of Alpin[50] of the holy relics, More than thy howling in the church Do I love to tell the day. Once on a time, etc.
The author of this is Ossian: [51]
Once on a time as Patrick of the holy crook Betook him to his cell, He sought as his companion Ossian of gentle mien.
Now let me hear, he said, Ossian, whose courage has made foes retreat, Who of all those whom thou ne’er sang’st, Most vexed the Feine of Finn?
Priest of the spotted crook,[52] Thy lifetime it would take To tell in human speech The glory of the Feine of Finn.
Since without guile thou art, And now that they are dead, dost live, Watch thou for ever on, And tell the deeds done by the Feine.
Should I be spared for fifty years, Hearing thy music in thy cell Till my death’s day, I could not tell The noble deeds of the Feine of Finn. The kingdoms of the earth in all its breadth Belonged to us on every side. Tribute we raised from all of them for Finn,[53] Else filled them with the shout of war. In this wide earth there was not one That dared refuse us, Not ev’n in Alve[54] of the spotted spears, With all its power and its untold renown.
Would’st thou but tell them now, Ossian, of the fierce assaults, Which was the stoutest arm Among the men that followed Finn.
Thou sett’st me to a painful task, O Priest, thou pupil of the heavenly king, I could not till the judgment day, Tell of the Feine, the men and deeds.