Then Conan thus—“Vain boy! be dumb,
Or tell what deed of fame
Did e’er thy Finn, but gnaw his thumb[4]
Until the marrow came?
We, not Clan-Boske, did the deed
Whene’er we saw the foemen bleed.
Behind thee, Oisin, may thy son
A puling, whining chanter run,
And bear white book and bell.
His words I scorn—in open fight,