For thy love’s sake, Patrick, forsake not the heroes, Unknown to heaven’s King, bring thou in the Feinn.
Though little room you’d take, not one of your race, Unknown to heaven’s King, shall get beneath his roof.
How different Mac Cumhail, the Feinn’s noble king, All men, uninvited, might enter his great house.
Sad is that, old man, and thy life’s close so near, That thou should’st so unjustly judge of my great king.
Better the fierce conflict of Finn and his Feinn, Than thy holy master, and thyself together.
Mournful, poor old man, that thou should’st folly speak, Better God for a day than all of Erin’s Feinn.
Though few be my days, and my life’s close near, Patrick defame not the nobles of clan Boisgne.
Thou can’st never tell, Ossian, son to the Queen, How different your nobles from those of my Lord.
Were even Conan living, the least of the Feinn, He would not suffer thy insolence, Cleric.
Speak not thus, Ossian, savage are thy words, Take thee now thy rest, and guide thee by my rule.