“Had Fionn but heard thine Eve lament
The apple stol’n—the curse on men—
For eric apples he had sent,
Shiploads threescore and ten!
“Likewise that serpent slain had he!
Fionn ever said this way was best,
To kill the bad that killed should be,
And be loving to the rest.
“Patrick, a pact with thee I make:
Because my warriors they deride,
With thee to heaven my father take,
And leave they priests outside!
“Patrick, this other boon I crave,
That I to thee in heaven may sing
Full loud the glories of the brave,
And Fionn, my sire and king!”—
“Oisin, in heaven the praises swell
To God alone from Soul and Saint:—”
“Then, Patrick, I their deeds will tell
In a little whisper faint!
“Who says that Fionn his sentence waits
In some dark realm, the thrall of sin?
Fionn would have burst that kingdom’s gates,
Or ruled himself therein!”
“Old man, for once thy chiefs forget”
(Thus oft the Saint his rage beguiled):
“Sing us thine own bright youth, while yet
A stripling, or a child.”
“O Patrick, glad that time and dear!
It wrought no greatness, gained no gain,
Not less those things that thou wouldst hear
Thou shalt not seek in vain.
“My mother was a princess, turned
By magic to a milk-white doe:—
Such tale, a wondering child, I learned:
True was it? Who can know?’
“I know but this, that, yet a boy,
I raced beside her like the wind:
We heard the hunter’s horn with joy
And left the pack behind.