Yet since it so fell out that thou outliv’st them Ossian of sweet and pleasing songs, Which would’st thou chuse of all the Feinn, To stand in battle by thy shield?
Oscar and Caoilte and Gaul, And Luthy’s son, of sharpest swords; Round Cumhal’s son,[55] they well might stand, No nobler band in battle fought; Bloody Fargon, son to the king, And Carroll with the murderous spear; Dermin, brave and fair, who nothing feared, And bore his pointed shield aloft, Coll Caoilte’s son, so gentle at the feast; Corc, a warrior of no tender blows; Ryno, son to the king;— A band than which no braver fought. The fair-haired Fillan, who was son to Finn, And Garry, than whom no bloodier foe; The guileless Dyrin, Doveran’s son, Hugh, son of Garry of the powerful arm, I, myself, and Gaul the son of Smail, And Daire of oaken frame, brave Ronan’s son; The armourer’s three sons, men without guile, Whose ruddy armour gleamed, adorned with gold. Now that I tell my tale to thee, Cleric that dwell’st at Port-na-minna, No man of all the Feine was known to me But one, to whom all other men must yield. But, now, do thou be seated in thy chair, Take up thy pen, we’ll number all the host, The host of brave and noble men Who came, well-ordered bands, unto the Feine. Across the sea the King of Lochlin came, The brown-haired[56] Daire of famous shield, From Conn to wrest the tribute paid by Erin, A mournful tale for us and all our host. Our Feinn had friends who came to give them aid, Men from the sides of every hill, Led on by Cairbar of the sinewy arm. Of these four bands came safe to land. Of the Feinn themselves came seven bands, Three from the east, the half of Erin called from Conn.[57] The greater number in the battle fell, But few escaped the bands of Daire donn. Down with his fleet lay Daire donn Himself and all his host. Of these were thirty score[58] Who ne’er again did see their native land. There watched them near the shore Conn Crithear of the well-aimed strokes. He seized the men of India there, And raised the king’s head on the mountain side. This famous Conn, the son of Ulster’s king, And Dollir, no less famed for warlike deeds, We left upon the strand, Drowned in mutual clasp beneath the waves. Dathach’s three sons, no braver men, Ascending from the place where lay the ships, Feartan and Kerkal, he with the large round head, We left their bodies naked on the strand. Owar,[59] the armed daughter of the King of Greece, And Forna of the heavy sturdy blows We left, a vacant grin upon their faces. We knew no sorrow as we left them there. Four of the King of Lochlin’s sons we left, Slain by our fierce, resistless arms. The three Balas from Borrin in the east, Hardly escaped our murderous blows. Great as was the king of the world, Daire donn, with shield of purest white, We left his body, too, upon the strand, Slain by the blows of the victorious Feine. Of all the world’s hosts, brave though they were, None did escape the slaughter Except the King of France alone, Who, like a swallow as it grasps the air, Fled from fear of noble Oscar, And even once his sole ne’er touched the earth Until he got to Glenabaltan, as men relate; Then and there only did he find him rest. It was on Fintray’s strand, down at the sea, Our people made this slaughter, Of these, the kings of all the world, And drank our full of vengeance. Our fierce and conquering arms Laid many a noble warrior low; Many a sword and shield Lay shattered on the strand, The strand of Fintray of the port; Many dead bodies lay upon the earth, Many a hero with a vacant grin. Much was the spoil we gathered in the fight. Patrick, son of noble Alpin, Even of the Feine themselves, none did escape The fierce and murderous fight Except two ordered bands, Nor were their bodies whole. The sons of Boisgne[60] made one band of those, A race, with hands that knew no tender grasp, Then came the sons of Morn,[61] who with the sons of Smail Made up the second band. By thy hand, O noble Priest In that sore fight, there perished of our Feine Five well-trained bands Who left us for the strand. Thirty luckless bands, A thousand score in each, We numbered of the men of Daire donn, That never reached the waves. Were I to answer thee, O Priest, As thou desir’st to hear my every tale, Down to the time we[62] Gawra’s battle fought, We never lost our power. Then did we seize the ships; We took the heavy silver of the king, The gold, the garments, and the other spoil; Each half of Erin had its share. Holy Patrick of the relics, Shall I meet death within thy house of prayer? Cover thou my form with earth, Since thou knowest well my tale.
Ossian, since thou art wearied now, Make thy peace, that thou may’st die, Take up thy prayer and ask for mercy, Early each day call on thy God, And when, on the judgment day, thou reachest Sion, Where all men shall be gathered, May Michael, Mary, and the Son of God Take thee kindly by the hand.
May the Twelve Apostles, with their song of praise, Each holy cleric, and each prophet, Me save from hell, For I’ve been very sinful in my day. Once on a time.[63]
The author of this is Ossian:
Feeble this night is the power of my arm, My strength is no more as it was; No wonder though I should mourn, Poor old relic that I am; Sad that such should be my lot, Beyond all men who tread the earth, Wearily dragging stones along To the church on the hill of the priest. I have a tale which I would tell Regarding our people, O Patrick: Listen to Finn’s prediction. Shortly ere thou cam’st, O Priest, The hero was to build a fort, On Cuailgne’s[64] bare and rounded hill. He laid it on the Feine of Fail[65] Materials for the work to get. Two-thirds of all his famous fort He laid upon the sons of Morn; The other third he laid on me, And on the other sons of Boisgne. I answered, but not aright, The son of Cumhal, son of Trenmor. I said I would cast off his rule, And would submit to him no more. Then for long Finn held his peace, The hero hard to vanquish, He who knew no guile nor fear, When my answer he had heard, His words to me were these, The words of Finn, prince of the Feine:
Thou shalt be dragging stones awhile Ere to thy mournful home thou goest. Then did I rise up in wrath, From Cumhal’s son of bloody sword. There followed me of all the Feine, The fourth battalion, hardy and brave. Then was I long with the Feine, On all things I my judgment gave. Many were there with me then, But now, alas, I’m feeble, feeble; I was counsellor to the Feine, In all emergencies, how feeble. How many men that do not know That on this earth I’m feeble, feeble. This night my body’s frame is feeble, Patrick, I believe thy words. My hands, my feet, and head, All of them are feeble, feeble. Feeble, etc.
The author of this is Ossian:
Here have I seen the Feine, I have seen Conan and Gaul, Finn, and Oscar my son, Ryno, Art, and brown-haired Diarmad,[66] Brave M’Luy,[67] he of noble mien, The red-haired Garry,[68] also Hugh the less, Hugh Garry’s son, who never quailed, The three Finns, and with them Fead, Glass and Gow and Garry, The long-haired Galve, and the impetuous Conan;[69] Gaul and Crooin, Gaul’s son, Socach, the son of Finn, and Bran;[70] Caoilte, the son of warlike Ronan,[71] Who swiftest ran, and leaped o’er valleys, The readiest to scatter gold, One of them of sweetest voice; Bayne, son of Brassil of the swords, The son of Cromchin, son of Smail, And Oscar, son of powerful Garry,[72] The three Balas, and the three Skails, Three battalions from Glenstroil, Three bands from Monaree; Caoilte’s seven sons best trained to fight; The three named Glass from Glassrananseir; The three Beths from Cnokandurd, Three of unfailing excellence; Deach Fichid’s son from Borruinn mor, Of them who always conquered. Here have I seen the Feine Whose liberal hand did music buy,[73] Ranged around Ossian and Finn, Traversing valleys to dispense their gold. Fearton and brave Carroll were there, Who never fought but where they won. I sing them, and generous Felan, All of whom here have I seen. Here have I seen.
The author of this is Ossian, the son of Finn.[74]