And Dermat answered, "Gladly will I make peace, if they grant me such

conditions as befit a champion and the husband of the princess Grania."

And when Angus asked what these conditions were, he answered--

"The cantred which my father had, that is to say, the cantred of

O'Dyna,[CXXXI.] without rent or tribute to the king of Erin; also the

cantred of Ben-Damis,[CXXXII.] namely, Ducarn of Leinster. These two to

be granted to me by Finn; and he shall not hunt over them, nor any of

his Fena, without my leave. And the king of Erin shall grant me the

cantred of Kesh-Corran,[CXXXIII.] as a dowry with his daughter. On these

conditions will I make peace."

Angus went to Finn, and afterwards to the king, with these conditions.

And they granted them, and forgave Dermat all he had done against them

during the time he was outlawed. So they made peace. And Cormac gave his

other daughter to Finn to wife.

Dermat and Grania went to live in the cantred of Kesh-Corran, far away

from Finn and Cormac; and they built a house for themselves, namely,

Rath-Grania, in which they abode many years in peace. And Grania bore

Dermat four sons and one daughter. And his possessions increased year by

year, insomuch that people said that no man of his time was richer than

Dermat, in gold and silver and jewels, in sheep, and in cattle-herds.

FOOTNOTES:

[CXXXI.] The cantred of O'Dyna, now the barony of Corkaguiny, in Kerry.

(See note, page 237.)

[CXXXII.] The cantred of Ben-Damis, or Ducarn of Leinster, probably the

district round Douce mountain, in the county Wicklow.

[CXXXIII.] The district round the mountain of Kesh-Corran, in Sligo.

CHAPTER X.

THE DEATH OF DERMAT.

Now when many years had passed, Grania said one day to Dermat--

"It is surely a thing unworthy of us, seeing the greatness of our

household and our wealth, and the number of our folk, that we should

live in a manner so much removed from the world. And in a special manner

it is unbecoming that the two most illustrious men in Erin have never

been in our house, namely, my father the king, and Finn the son of

Cumal."

For indeed she had not seen her father since the night she had left Tara

with Dermat, and her heart yearned for him.

"Wherefore say you this, Grania?" answered Dermat; "for though there is

indeed peace between us, they are both none the less enemies of mine;

and for this reason have I removed my dwelling far apart from them."

And Grania said, "Their enmity has surely softened with length of time:

and now I would that you give them a feast: so shall we win back their

friendship and love."

And in an evil hour Dermat consented.

For a full year were they preparing for that great feast, and when it

was ready, messengers were sent to invite the king, with his house-folk,

and Finn, with the chief men of the seven batallions of the Fena. So

they came, with their attendants and followers, their horses and dogs;

and they lived for a whole year in Rath-Grania, hunting and feasting.

It chanced one night, at the end of the year, long after all had gone to

rest, that Dermat heard, through the silence of the night, the distant

yelping of a hound; and he started up from his sleep. But Grania, being

scared, started up also, and, throwing her arms round him, asked him

what he had seen.

"I have heard the voice of a hound," answered Dermat; "and I marvel much

to hear it at midnight."

"May all things guard thee from harm!" said Grania. "This is surely a

trap laid for thee by the Dedannans, unknown to Angus of the Bruga: and

now lie down on thy bed again."

Dermat lay down, but did not sleep, and again he heard the hound's

voice. He started up, and this time was fain to go and look to the

matter; but Grania caught him and kept him back a second time, saying

that it was not meet for him to seek a hound whose voice he heard in the

night.

A gentle slumber now fell on Dermat, and he slept through a good part of

the night. But the yelping of the hound came a third time, and awakened

him, so that he started up; and it being now broad day, he told Grania

that he would go to seek the hound, and find out why he was abroad in

the night.

And though Grania consented, she felt, she knew not why, ill at ease;

and she said--

"Bring with you the Morallta, the sword of Mannanan Mac Lir, and the

Ga-derg,[A] Angus's spear; for there may be danger."

But Dermat, regarding the matter lightly, and forced by fate to the

worse choice, answered--

"How can danger arise from such a small affair? I will bring the

Begallta and the Ga-boi;[CXXXIV.] and I will also bring my good hound

Mac-an-coill, leading him by his chain."

So Dermat went forth, and he delayed not till he reached the summit of

Ben-Gulban,[CXXXV.] where he found Finn; and Dermat, offering him no

salute, asked him who it was that held the chase. Finn answered--

"Some of our men came out from Rath-Grania at midnight with their

hounds; and one of the hounds coming across the track of a wild boar,

both men and dogs have followed it up. I indeed would have held them

back, but the men were eager, and left me here alone. For this is the

track of the wild boar of Ben-Gulban, and they who follow him are bent

on a vain and dangerous pursuit. Often has he been chased; and he has

always escaped, after killing many men and dogs. Even now thou canst see

in the distance that the Fena are flying before him; and he has slain

several this morning. He is coming towards this hillock where we stand;

and the sooner we get out of his way the better."

But Dermat said he would not leave the hillock through fear of any wild

boar.

"It is not meet that thou shouldst tarry here," answered Finn. "Dost

thou not know that thou art under gesa[12] never to hunt a boar?"

Dermat answered, "I know nothing of these gesa; wherefore were they

placed on me?"

And Finn said, "I will tell thee of this matter, for well do I remember

it. When thou wert taken to Bruga of the Boyne, to be fostered by Angus,

the son of Angus's steward was fostered with thee, that he might be a

companion and playmate to thee. Now the steward, being a man of the

common sort, agreed to send each day to Bruga, food and drink for nine

men, as a price for having his son fostered with thee--thy father, Donn,

being one of the nobles of the Fena. And thy father was accordingly

permitted to visit the house of Angus when it pleased him, with eight

companions, and claim the food sent by the steward; and when he did not

come, it was to be given to Angus's house-folk.

"It chanced on a certain day that I was at Allen of the broad

hill-slopes, with the chief men of the seven battalions of the Fena. And

Bran Beg O'Bucan brought to my mind, what indeed I had forgotten, that

it was forbidden to me to sleep at Allen more than nine nights one after

another, and that the next would be the tenth.

"Now this restriction had not been placed on any of the Fena save

myself, and they all went into the hall except thy father and a few

others. Then I asked where we should get entertainment for that night.

And thy father, Donn, answered that he would give me entertainment at

Bruga of the Boyne; where food and drink awaited himself and his

companions whenever he visited Angus. Donn said, moreover, that he had

not been to see his son for a year, and that we were sure to get a

welcome.

"So Donn and I and the few that were with us went to the house of Angus,

bringing our hounds; and Angus welcomed us. And thou and the steward's

son were there, two children. After a while we could see that Angus

loved thee, Dermat, very much, but that the house-folk loved the son of

the steward; and thy father was filled with jealousy, that the people

should show fondness for him and not for thee.

"After night had fallen, it chanced that our hounds quarrelled over some

broken meat we had thrown to them, and began to fight in the court; and

the women and lesser people fled from them hither and thither. The son

of the steward happened to run between thy father's knees, who, calling

now to mind how the people favoured him more than thee, gave him a

sudden strong squeeze with his knees, and killed him on the spot. And,

without being seen by any one, he threw him under the feet of the

hounds.

"When at last the dogs were put asunder, the child was found dead; and

the steward uttered a long, mournful cry. Then he came to me and said--

"'Of all the men in Angus's house to-night, I have come worst out of

this uproar; for this boy was my only child. And now, O Finn, I demand

eric from thee for his death; for thy hounds have slain him.'

"I told him to examine the body of his son, and that if he found the

mark of a hound's tooth or nail, I would give him eric. So the child was

examined, but no hurt--either bite or scratch--was found on him.

"Then the steward laid me under fearful bonds of druidical gesa,[12] to

find out for him who slew his son. So I called for a chess-board and

some water, and, having washed my hands, I put my thumb under my tooth

of knowledge;[25] and then it was revealed to me that the boy had been

slain by thy father. Not wishing to make this known, I now offered to

pay eric for the boy; but the steward refused, saying that he should

know who killed his son. So I was forced to tell him: whereupon he

said--

"'It is easier for Donn to pay me eric than for any other man in this

house. And the eric I demand is that his son be placed between my knees:

if the lad gets off safe, then I shall follow up the matter no further.'

"Angus was very wroth at this; and thy father would have struck off the

steward's head if I had not come between and saved him.

"The steward said no more, but went aside and brought forth a druidical

magic wand, and, striking his son with it, he turned him into a great

bristly wild boar, having neither ears nor tail. And, holding the wand

aloft, he chanted this incantation over the boar--

"By this magical wand,

By the wizard's command,

I appoint and decree,

For Dermat and thee,

The same bitter strife,

The same span of life:

In the pride of his strength,

Thou shalt slay him at length:

Lo, Dermat O'Dyna

Lies stretched in his gore;

Behold my avengers,

The tusks of the boar!

And thus is decreed,

For Donn's cruel deed,

Sure vengeance to come--

His son's bloody doom;

By this wand in my hand,

By the wizard's command!

"The moment he had ended the incantation, the boar rushed out through

the open door, and we knew not whither he betook himself.

"When Angus heard the steward's words, he laid a command on thee never

to hunt a wild boar, that so thou mightest avoid the doom foretold for

thee.

"That same boar is the wild boar of Binbulbin; and he is now rushing

furiously towards us. Come, then, let us leave this hill at once, that

we may avoid him in time!"

"I know nothing of these incantations and prohibitions," replied Dermat;

"or if, as thou sayest, they were put on me in my boyhood, I forget them

all now. And neither for fear of this wild boar of Ben-Gulban nor of any

other wild beast will I leave this hillock. But thou, before thou goest,

leave me thy hound, Bran, to help and encourage my dog, Mac-an-coill."

"I will not leave him," answered Finn; "for often has Bran chased this

boar, and has always barely escaped with his life. And now I leave; for

lo, here he comes over yonder hill-shoulder."

So Finn went his ways, and left Dermat standing alone on the hill. And

after he had left Dermat said--

"I fear me, indeed, that thou hast begun this chase hoping that it would

lead to my death. But here will I await the event; for if I am fated to

die in this spot, I cannot avoid the doom in store for me."

Immediately the boar came rushing up the face of the hill, with the Fena

following far behind. Dermat loosed Mac-an-coill against him, but to no

profit; for the hound shied and fled before him at the first glance.

Then Dermat said, communing with himself--

"Woe to him who does not follow the advice of a good wife! For this

morning Grania bade me bring the Morallta and the Ga-derg; but I brought

instead the Begallta and the Ga-boi, disregarding her counsel."

Then, putting his white taper finger into the silken loop of the Ga-boi,

he threw it with careful aim, and struck the boar in the middle of the

forehead; but to no purpose, for the spear fell harmless to the ground,

having neither wounded nor scratched the boar, nor disturbed even a

single bristle.

Seeing this, Dermat, though indeed he knew not fear, felt his courage a

little damped. And thereupon drawing the Begallta from its sheath, he

dealt a blow on the boar's neck, with the full strength of his brawny

arm. But neither did he fare better this time; for the sword flew in

pieces, leaving the hilt in his hand, while not a bristle of the boar

was harmed.

And now the boar rushed on him as he stood defenceless, and with furious

onset hurled him headlong to the earth; and, turning round, he gashed

the hero's side with his tusk, inflicting a deep and ghastly wound.

Turning again, he was about to renew the attack, when Dermat flung the

hilt of the sword at him, and drove it through the skull to his brain,

so that the brute fell dead on the spot.

Finn and the Fena now came up, and found Dermat lying pale and bleeding,

in the pangs of death. And Finn said--

"It likes me well, Dermat, to see thee in this plight; only I am grieved

that all the women of Erin cannot see thee also. For now, indeed, the

surpassing beauty of thy form, that they loved so well, is gone from

thee, and thou art pale and deformed!"

And Dermat answered, "Alas, O Finn! these words surely come from thy

lips only, and not from thy heart. And indeed it is in thy power to heal

me even now if thou wilt."

"How should I heal thee?" asked Finn.

"It is not hard for thee to do so," answered Dermat. "For when, at the

Boyne, the noble gift of foreknowledge was given to thee,[25] this gift

also thou didst receive--that to whomsoever thou shouldst give a drink

of water from the closed palms of thy two hands, he should be healed

from sickness or wounds, even though he stood at the point of death."

"Why should I heal thee by giving thee drink from my hands?" replied

Finn. "For of a certainty thou of all men dost least deserve it from

me."

"Thou surely speakest hastily, not remembering past services," answered

Dermat. "Well, indeed, do I deserve that thou shouldst heal me. Dost

thou forget the day thou didst go with the chiefs and nobles of the

Fena, to the house of Derca, the son of Donnara, to a banquet? And even

as we sat down, and before the feast began, Carbri of the Liffey, son of

Cormac, with the men of Tara, and of Bregia, and of Meath, and of

Carmna, surrounded the palace, intent on slaying thee and all thy

people. And they uttered three great shouts, and threw firebrands to

burn the palace over our heads. Then thou didst arise and prepare to

issue forth, but I put thee back and bade thee enjoy thy feast; and,

leaving the banquet untasted, I rushed forth with a chosen few of my own

men, and quenched the flames. Thrice we made a circuit of the palace,

dealing slaughter amongst thy foes, so that we left fifty of them dead

after each circuit. And having put Carbri and his men to flight, we

returned to join the feast. Had I asked thee for a drink that night,

gladly wouldst thou have given it to me. And yet, not more justly was it

due to me then than it is now."

"Ill dost thou deserve a healing drink from me, or any other favour,"

said Finn; "for it was thy part to guard Grania the night we came to

Tara; but thou didst espouse her secretly, and didst fly with her from

Tara, knowing that she was betrothed to me."

"Lay not the blame of that on me," said Dermat; "for Grania put me under

heavy gesa, which for all the wealth of the world I would not break

through--no, not even for life itself. Neither did I rest on my own

judgment in the matter; for well thou knowest that Oisin, and Oscar, and

Dering, and Mac Luga counselled me to the course I took.

"And now, O Finn, I pray thee let me drink from thy hands, for I feel

the weakness of death coming on me. And thou wilt not gainsay that I

deserve it, if thou wilt only remember the feast that Midac, the son of

Colga, made for thee in the Fairy Palace of the Quicken Trees.[CXXXVI.]

To this feast Midac invited thee and thy companions; while to the Palace

of the Island he brought secretly the King of the World with a great

host, and the three kings of the Island of the Torrent, with intent to

slay thee and all thy Fena.

"Now Midac caused some of the clay of the Island of the Torrent to be

placed under you, with foul spells, in the Palace of the Quicken Trees,

so that your feet and your hands clove to the ground. And it was

revealed to thee that the King of the World was about to send a chief

with a troop of warriors, to slay you, helpless as you were, and to

bring him your heads to the Palace of the Island.

"But at that same time, I came to thee outside the Palace of the Quicken

Trees; and thou didst make known to me your deadly strait. Then did I

take thee, Finn, and those who were with thee, under the protection of

my knighthood and valour; and I went to the ford to defend it against

the foreigners.

"And after a little time the three dragon-like kings of the Island of

the Torrent came towards the palace: but I defended the ford, and,

venturing my life for thee, I bore their attack and slew them all three.

And I swept off their heads, and brought them, all gory as they were, in

the hollow of my shield, to the palace where you lay miserably bound;

and, sprinkling the clay with the blood, I broke the spell and set you

free. And had I asked thee for a drink on that night, O Finn, of a

surety thou wouldst not have refused me.

"And many another deadly strait did I free you from, since the day I was

admitted among the Fena, always putting myself forward to the post of

danger, and perilling my life for your safety; and now why dost thou

requite me with this foul treachery?

"Moreover, many a king's son and many a brave warrior hast thou slain;

and thou hast earned the enmity of powerful foes: neither is there yet

an end of it. For the day will come--I see it even now--a day of direful

overthrow and slaughter,[CXXXVII.] when few, alas! of the Fena will be

left to tell the tale. Then thou shalt sorely need my help, O Finn, and

sorely shalt thou rue this day. I grieve not, indeed, for thee, but for

my dear, faithful companions--for Oscar and Mac Luga and Dering, and

more than all for Oisin, who shall long outlive the others in sad old

age.[CXXXVIII.] Alas! how deadly shall be their strait when I am not

near to aid them!"

Then Oscar, moved with pity even to tears, addressing Finn, said,

"Although I am nearer akin to thee, O king, than to Dermat, yet I cannot

suffer that he die, when a drink from thy hands would heal him. Bring

him, then, a drink without delay."

And Finn answered, "I know of no well on this mountain from which to

bring drink."

"Therein thou speakest not truth," said Dermat; "for thou knowest that

not more than nine paces from thee, hidden under yonder bush, is a well

of crystal water."

Thereupon Finn went to the well, and, holding his two hands tightly

together, he brought up some of the water, and came towards Dermat; but

after he had walked a little way, he let it spill through his fingers,

saying that he was not able to bring water in his hands so far.

"Not so, Finn," said Dermat. "I saw thee that of thy own will thou didst

let it spill. And now, O king, hasten, for death is on me."

Again he went to the well, and was bringing the water slowly, while

Dermat followed the dripping hands with his eyes; but when Finn thought

of Grania he let the water spill a second time. And Dermat, seeing

this, uttered a piteous sigh of anguish.

And now was Oscar no longer able to contain his grief and rage; and he

said, "I swear, O king, if thou dost not bring the water, that only one

of us two--thou or I--shall leave this hill alive!"

Hearing Oscar's words, and seeing the frowning looks of the others, Finn

dipped up the water a third time, and was hastening forward; but before

he had got half-way, Dermat's head dropped backwards, and his life

departed.

And all the Fena present raised three long loud cries of sorrow for

Dermat O'Dyna.

Then Oscar, looking fiercely on Finn, spoke and said, "Would that thou

thyself lay dead here instead of Dermat! For now indeed the noblest

heart of the Fena is still; and our mainstay in battle and danger is

gone. Ah! why did I not foresee this? Why was I not told that Dermat's

life was linked with the life of the wild boar of Ben-Gulban? Then would

I have stayed this chase, and put off the evil day!"

And Oscar wept; and Oisin, and Dering, and Mac Luga wept also, for

Dermat was much loved by all.

After a time, Finn said, "Let us now leave this hill, lest Angus of the

Bruga overtake us. For although we had no hand in Dermat's death,

nevertheless he may not believe us."

So Finn and the Fena departed from the hill, Finn leading Dermat's dog,

Mac-an-coill. But Oisin, and Oscar, and Dering, and Mac Luga turned

back, and with tears, threw their mantles over Dermat; after which they

followed the others.

Grania sat that day on the highest rampart of Rath-Grania, watching for

Dermat's return; for a dark fear haunted her mind on account of this

chase. And when at last the Fena came in view, she saw Dermat's dog led

by Finn; but not seeing Dermat himself, she said--

"Ah me! what is this I see? Surely if Dermat were alive, it is not by

Finn that Mac-an-coill would be led to his home!"

And as she spoke she fell forward off the rampart, and lay long in a

swoon as if her spirit had fled, while her handmaid stood over her,

weeping and distracted. And when at last she opened her eyes, then

indeed they told her that Dermat was dead; and she uttered a long and

piteous cry, so that her women and all the people of the court came

round her to ask the cause of her sorrow. And when they were told that

Dermat had perished by the wild boar of Ben-Gulban, they raised three

loud, bitter cries of lamentation, which were heard in the glens and

wildernesses around, and which pierced the clouds of heaven.

When at length Grania became calm, she ordered that five hundred of her

people should go to Ben-Gulban, to bring home the body of Dermat. Then,

turning to Finn, who still held Mac-an-coill in his hand, she asked him

to leave her Dermat's hound; but Finn refused, saying that a hound was a

small matter, and that he might be allowed to inherit at least so much

of Dermat's riches. When Oisin heard this, he came forward and took the

hound from the hand of Finn and gave him to Grania.

At the time that the men left Rath-Grania to go for the body of Dermat,

it was revealed to Angus that the hero was lying dead on Ben-Gulban. And

he set out straightway, and travelling on the pure, cool wind, soon

reached the mountain; so that when Grania's people came up, they found

him standing over the body, sorrowing, with his people behind him. And

they held forward the wrong sides of their shields in token of peace.

Then both companies, having viewed the dead hero, raised three mighty

cries of sorrow, so loud and piercing that they were heard in the wastes

of the firmament, and over the five provinces of Erin.

And when they had ceased, Angus spoke and said, "Alas! why did I abandon

thee, even for once, O my son? For from the day I took thee to Bruga, a

tender child, I have watched over thee and guarded thee from thy foes,

until last night. Ah! why did I abandon thee to be decoyed to thy doom

by the guileful craft of Finn? By my neglect hast thou suffered, O

Dermat; and now, indeed, I shall for ever feel the bitter pangs of

sorrow!"

Then Angus asked Grania's people what they had come for. And when they

told him that Grania had sent them to bring the body of Dermat to

Rath-Grania, he said--

"I will bring the body of Dermat with me to Bruga of the Boyne; and I

will keep him on his bier, where he shall be preserved by my power, as

if he lived. And though I cannot, indeed, restore him to life, yet I

will breathe a spirit into him, so that for a little while each day he

shall talk with me."

Then he caused the body to be placed on a golden bier, with the hero's

javelins fixed one on each side, points upwards. And his people raised

the bier and carried it before him; and in this manner they marched

slowly to Bruga of the Boyne.

Grania's people then returned; and when they had told her the whole

matter, though she was grieved at first, yet in the end she was content,

knowing how Angus loved Dermat.

FOOTNOTES:

[CXXXIV.] See note, page 302.

[CXXXV.] Now Benbulbin, a mountain five miles north of the town of

Sligo.

[CXXXVI.] See this story told at length, page 177.

[CXXXVII.] A prophetic allusion to the battle of Gavra. (See note 28 at

the end.)

[CXXXVIII.] A prophetic allusion to the events related in the story of

"Oisin in Tirnanoge," page 385.

THE CHASE OF SLIEVE CULLINN.

IN WHICH IT IS RELATED HOW FINN'S HAIR WAS CHANGED IN ONE DAY FROM THE

COLOUR OF GOLD TO SILVERY GREY.[CXXXIX.]

Culand, the smith of the Dedannans,[1] who lived at Slieve

Cullinn,[CXL.] had two beautiful daughters, Milucra and Aina. They both

loved Finn,[23] and each sought him for her husband.

As they walked together one evening near Allen,[CXLI.] they fell to

talking of many things; and their conversation turning at last on their

future husbands, Aina said she would never marry a man with grey hair.

When Milucra heard this, she resolved with herself that if she could not

get Finn, she would plan so that he should not marry her sister Aina. So

she departed immediately, and, turning her steps northwards, she

summoned the Dedannans to meet her at Slieve Cullinn. Having brought

them all together, she caused them to make her a lake[CXLII.] near the

top of the mountain; and she breathed a druidical virtue on its waters,

that all who bathed in it should become grey.

On a morning not long after this, Finn happened to be walking alone on

the lawn before the palace of Allen, when a doe sprang out from a

thicket, and, passing quite close to him, bounded past like the wind.

Without a moment's delay, he signalled for his companions and dogs; but

none heard except his two hounds, Bran and Skolan. He instantly gave

chase, with no other arms than his sword, Mac-an-Lona, and accompanied

only by his two dogs; and before the Fena[23] knew of his absence, he

had left Allen of the green slopes far behind.

The chase turned northwards; and though the hounds kept close to the

doe, the chief kept quite as close to the hounds the whole way. And so

they continued without rest or pause, till they reached Slieve Cullinn,

far in the north.

Here the doe made a sudden turn and disappeared; and what direction she

took, whether east or west, Finn knew not, for he never caught sight of

her after. And he marvelled much that any doe in the world should be

able to lead Bran and Skolan so long a chase, and escape from them in

the end. Meantime they kept searching, Finn taking one side of the hill

and the dogs another, so that he was at last left quite alone.

While he was wandering about the hill and whistling for his hounds, he

heard the plaintive cry of a woman at no great distance; and, turning

his steps towards the place, he saw a lady sitting on the brink of a

little lake, weeping as if her heart would break. Never before did the

chieftain see a maiden so lovely. The rose colour on her cheeks was

heightened by her grief; her lips were like ruddy quicken berries; the

delicate blossom of the apple tree was not more white than her neck; her

hair fell in heavy golden ringlets on her shoulders; and as she looked

up at the chief, her eyes beamed like stars on a frosty night.

Finn accosted her; and, seeing that she ceased her weeping for a moment,

he asked her had she seen his two hounds pass that way.

"I have not seen thy hounds," she replied, "nor have I been at all

concerned in the chase; for, alas, there is something that troubles me

more nearly, a misadventure that has caused me great sorrow!"

And as she spoke these words, she burst out weeping and sobbing more

bitterly than before.

Finn was greatly moved at this, so much so, that he quite forgot all

about his hounds and his own troubles; and he asked her--

"What is the cause of this great grief, gentle lady? Has death robbed

you of your husband or your child, or what other evil has befallen you?

I am much concerned to see a lady in such distress; and I wish you to

tell me if anything can be done to lighten your sorrow, or to remove the

cause of it?"

She replied, "I had a precious gold ring on my finger, which I prized

beyond anything in the world; and it has fallen from me into the water.

I saw it roll down the steep slope at the bottom, till it went quite out

of my sight. This is the cause of my sorrow, and thou canst remedy the

mishap if thou wilt. The Fena are sworn never to refuse help to a woman

in distress; and I now put on thee those gesa[12] that true heroes dare

not break through, to search for the ring, and cease not till thou find

it and restore it to me."

Though the chief had indeed at the moment no inclination to swim, he

could not refuse a prayer urged in this manner. So he plunged in without

a moment's hesitation, and examined the lake on all sides, diving and

searching into every nook and cranny at the bottom.

After swimming in this manner three times round and round the lake, he

found the ring at last; and, approaching the lady, he handed it to her

from the water. The moment she had got it she sprang into the lake

before his eyes, and, diving down, disappeared in an instant.

The chief, wondering greatly at this strange behaviour, stepped forth

from the water; but as soon as his feet had touched the dry land, he

lost all his strength, and fell on the brink, a withered, grey old man,

shrunken up and trembling all over with weakness. He sat him down in

woful plight; and soon his hounds came up. They looked at him wistfully

and sniffed and whined around him; but they knew him not, and, passing

on, they ran round the lake, searching in vain for their master.

On that day the Fena were assembled in the banquet hall of the palace of

Allen; some feasting and drinking, some playing chess, and others

listening to the sweet music of the harpers. While all were in this wise

pleasantly engaged, Kylta Mac Ronan[23] stood up in the midst, and said

in the hearing of all--

"I have observed, friends, that our master and king, Finn the son of

Cumal, has not been amongst us to-day, as is his wont; and I wish to

know whither he has gone."

This speech caused a sudden alarm amongst us; for no one knew aught of

the chief, or was aware till that moment that he was absent at all; and

we knew not wherefore he had disappeared or whither he had gone. In the

midst of our anxious tumult, the envious and foul-mouthed Conan Mail[23]

stood up, and said--

"I have never heard sweeter music than your words, Kylta! The Fena are

now about to seek for their king; and my only wish is that their quest

may last for a whole year, and that it may prove a vain search in the

end! Be not cast down, however, O Fena; if you should fail to find the

son of Cumal, you will not be so ill off as you think; for I will

undertake to be your king from this time forth!"

Though we were at the time more inclined to be sad than mirthful, being

weighed down with much anxiety, we could not help laughing when we heard

the loud, foolish talk of Conan Mail; but we took no further notice of

him.

Inquiring now from the lesser people about the palace, we found that the

chief and his two dogs had followed a doe northwards. So, having

mustered a strong party of the Fena, we started in pursuit. Kylta and I

took the lead, the rest keeping close behind; and in this order we

followed the track, never taking rest or slackening speed till we

reached Slieve Cullinn.

We began to search round the hill, hoping to find either the chief

himself or some person who might give us tidings of him. After wandering

among brakes and rough, rocky places, we at last espied a grey-headed

old man sitting on the brink of a lake. I went up to him to ask a

question, followed by the rest of the Fena. At first I thought he might

be a fisherman who had come up from the plains to fish; but when we came

near him, he seemed so wretched an old creature, all shrivelled up, with

the skin hanging in wrinkles over the bare points of his bones, that I

felt quite sure he was not a fisherman, and that he was reduced to that

state more by sickness and want than by old age.

I asked the poor old man if he had seen a noble-looking hero pass that

way, with two hounds, chasing a doe. He never answered a word, neither

did he stir from where he sat, or even look up; but at the question, his

head sank on his breast, and his limbs shook all over as with palsy.

Then he fell into a sudden fit of grief, wringing his hands and uttering

feeble cries of woe.

We soothed him and used him gently for a time, hoping he might speak at

last; but to no purpose, for he still kept silent. Then at last growing

impatient, and thinking that this might be a mere headstrong humour, we

drew our swords, and threatened him with instant death if he did not at

once tell us all he knew of the chief and his hounds--for we felt sure

he had seen them. But he only lamented the more, and still answered

nothing.

At last, after this had gone on for some time, and when we were about to

leave him, he beckoned to Kylta Mac Ronan; and when Kylta had come near,

the old man whispered into his ear the dreadful secret. And then we all

came to know the truth. When we found that the withered old man was no

other than our beloved king, Finn, himself, we uttered three shouts of

lamentation and anger, so loud and prolonged that the foxes and badgers

rushed affrighted from their dens in the hollows of the mountain.

Conan now stepped forward, looking very fierce; and, unsheathing his

sword with mighty bluster, he began in a loud voice to revile Finn and

the Fena with the foulest language he could think of. And he ended by

saying that he meant to slay the king that moment--

"Now, O Finn Mac Cumal, I will certainly strike off your head; for you

are the man that never gave me credit for valour, or praised my noble

deeds in battle. Ever since your father, Cumal of the Hosts, was slain

on the field of Knocka[CXLIII.] by the Clann Morna[23] of the Golden

Shields, you have been our bitter foe; and it is against your will that

any of us are now alive. I am very glad to see you, Finn Mac Cumal,

brought down to what you now are; and I only wish that the rest of the

Clann Baskin[23] were like you. Then should I very soon make short work

of them all; and joyful to me would be the task of raising a great carn

to their memory!"

To which Oscar replied with great scorn, "It is not worth while drawing

a sword to punish thee, Conan Mail, vain and foolish boaster as thou

art; and besides, we have at present something else to think of. But if

it were not for the trouble that now lies heavy on us on account of our

king, I would of a certainty chastise thee by breaking all the bones of

thy mouth with my fist!"

"Cease, Oscar," returned Conan, in a voice still louder than before;

"cease your foolish talk! It is actions and not words that prove a man;

and as to the noble warlike deeds done in past times by the Fena, it

was by the Clann Morna they were performed, and not by the

chicken-hearted Clann Baskin!"

The fiery Oscar could bear this no longer. He rushed towards Conan Mail;

but Conan, terrified at his vengeful look, ran in amongst the Fena with

great outcry, beseeching them to save him from the rage of Oscar. We

straightway confronted the young hero, and checked him in his headlong

career; and after much ado, we soothed his anger and made peace between

him and Conan.

When quietness was restored, Kylta asked Finn how this dread evil had

befallen him, who was the enchanter, and whether there was any hope of

restoring him to his own shape. Finn told him that it was the daughter

of Culand the smith who had transformed him by her spells. And then he

recounted how she had lured him to swim in the lake, and how, when he

came forth, he was turned into a withered old man.

We now made a framework litter of slender poles, and, placing our king

on it, we lifted him tenderly on our shoulders. And, turning from the

lake, we marched slowly up-hill till we came to the fairy palace of

Slieve Cullinn, where we knew the daughter of Culand had her dwelling

deep under ground.[19] Here we set him down, and the whole troop began

at once to dig, determined to find the enchantress in her cave-palace,

and to take vengeance on her if she did not restore our chief.

For three days and three nights we dug, without a moment's rest or

pause, till at length we reached her hollow dwelling; when she,

affrighted at the tumult and at the vengeful look of the heroes,

suddenly started forth from the cave and stood before us. She held in

her hand a drinking-horn of red gold, which was meant for the king. Yet

she appeared unwilling, and held it back, notwithstanding the

threatening looks of the Fena. But, happening to cast her eyes on the

graceful and manly youth, Oscar, she was moved with such admiration and

love for him that she wavered no longer, but placed the fairy

drinking-horn in the hands of the king. No sooner had he drunk from it,

than his own shape and features returned, save only that his hair

remained of a silvery grey.

When we gazed on our chief in his own graceful and manly form, we were

all pleased with the soft, silvery hue of the grey hairs. And, though

the enchantress appeared ready to restore this also, Finn himself told

her that it pleased him as it pleased the others, and that he chose to

remain grey for the rest of his life.

When the king had drunk from the horn, he passed it to Mac Reth, who

drank from it in like manner and gave it to Dering. Dering, after

drinking, was about to hand it to the next, when it gave a sudden twist

out of his hand, and darted into the loose earth at our feet, where it

sank out of sight. We ran at once to recover it; but, though we turned

up the earth deeply all round, we were not able to find the

drinking-horn. This was a disappointment that vexed us exceedingly, for

if we had all drunk from it, we should have been gifted with a

foreknowledge of future events.

A growth of slender twigs grew up afterwards over the spot where it sank

into the ground; and this little thicket is still gifted with a part of

the virtue of the golden drinking-horn. For any one who looks on it in

the morning fasting, will know in a moment all things that are to happen

that day.

So ended the Chase of Slieve Cullinn; and in this wise it came to pass

that Finn's hair was turned in one day from golden yellow to silvery

grey.

FOOTNOTES:

[CXXXIX.] It is necessary to remind the reader that this story and the

two following are related by Oisin, in his old age, to St. Patrick. (See

the prefatory note to the story of "Oisin in Tirnanoge," p. 385; and see

also note 23 at the end.)

[CXL.] Now Slieve Gullion, a lofty, isolated mountain in the south of

the county Armagh, celebrated in legendary lore.

[CXLI.] The Hill of Allen, in Kildare, where Finn had his palace. (See

note 23 at the end.)

[CXLII.] The little lake for which this legendary origin is assigned

lies near the top of Slieve Gullion. There were several wells in Ireland

which, according to the belief of old times, had the property of turning

the hair grey. Giraldus Cambrensis tells us of such a well in Munster;

and he states that he once saw a man who had washed a part of his head

in this well, and that the part washed was white, while the rest was

black!

It is to be observed that the peasantry of the district retain to this

day a lingering belief in the power of the lake of Slieve Gullion to

turn the hair grey.

[CXLIII.] Knocka, now Castleknock, near Dublin. (See note 27 at the

end.)

THE CHASE OF SLIEVE FUAD.

IN WHICH IT IS RELATED HOW AILNA, THE WIFE OF MERGAH OF THE SHARP

SPEARS, IN ORDER TO BE REVENGED ON THE FENA FOR THE DEATH OF HER

HUSBAND, TRANSFORMED HERSELF INTO A DEER, AND DECOYED THEM TILL SHE GOT

THEM INTO THE POWER OF HER BROTHER, DRYANTORE, A GIANT AND AN ENCHANTER;

HOW HE THREW THEM INTO A DUNGEON, WITH INTENT TO KILL THEM; AND HOW THEY

WERE IN THE END SET FREE BY CONAN MAIL.[CXLIV.]

Finn and the Fena[23] went one day to hunt at Slieve Fuad.[CXLV.] When

they had come very near to the top of the mountain, a deer suddenly

bounded from a thicket right before them, very large and fierce, with a

great pair of sharp, dangerous antlers. At once they loosed their dogs

and gave chase; and those who were scattered here and there about the

hill gave up the pursuit of smaller game to join the main body for it

was very seldom they fell in with a deer that promised better sport.

She led them through rugged places, over rocks and bogs, and into deep

glens. The hounds several times surrounded her; but she fought her way

with so much strength and fury that she always escaped, after killing

many of the dogs and disabling some of the men.

Soon she left Slieve Fuad behind, nor did she slacken speed till she

reached the green hill of Lidas, while the hunters and dogs followed in

full chase close behind. She then made her way across the open country

to a rugged and bushy hill--the hill of Carrigan;[CXLVI.] and here they

suddenly lost her among the rocks and thickets. They searched round the

hill without avail, north, south, east, and west, till all, both men and

dogs, were quite scattered; and Finn and Dara the Melodious were left

alone.

At length Finn's dog, Skolan, started the deer once more, and again the

chase began. Back over the selfsame course she ran, by the hill of

Lidas, and straight on towards Slieve Fuad, Finn and Dara close on her

track; while the main body of the Fena followed far behind, guided by

the cries of the dogs.

When the deer reached Slieve Fuad, she again took cover and disappeared

at the very spot where they had first started her; and the two chiefs,

after beating the thickets on every side, were at length forced to give

up the search.

A druidical mist now rose up, darkening the air, and enfolding them on

every side; so that they lost their way. They tried many times to regain

the path, but to no purpose; for they only lost themselves more and

more among the quagmires and thickets. At last they sat down to rest,

weary and baffled; and Dara played a mournful strain on his timpan;

after which they sounded the Dord-Fian,[CXLVII.] as a signal to their

friends.

When the Fena heard the Dord-Fian sounding afar off, they felt sure that

their leader was in trouble or strait of some kind; and they started to

his relief, making northwards straight towards the point from which they

thought the signal came. But they had not gone far when they heard it

sounding from the east, and altered their course accordingly. Again it

changed to the west; and no sooner had they set forward in that

direction than it seemed to come from the south. In this manner were

they led hither and thither, till they became quite bewildered; and they

found themselves no nearer to those they were in search of, for every

time they heard the Dord-Fian, it seemed as far off as ever.

Meantime Finn and Dara, after resting for a time, again started off,

intent on trying once more to reach their friends; for they heard their

shouts, and knew they were seeking them. As they were making their way

through the thick fog, they heard a voice at a little distance, as if

from one in distress; and, turning their steps that way, they met a

young woman, very beautiful, and very pleasing in manner, but looking

weary and sore perplexed, and all over in sad plight from the bogs and

brambles.

Finn accosted her in a gentle voice, asking how she came to be alone in

a place so wild.

She replied, "I and my husband were journeying along over the plain,

when we heard the melodious cry of hounds; and he left me to follow the

chase, telling me to continue along the same path, and promising to

rejoin me without delay. But this fairy fog has risen around me, and I

have lost my way, so that I know not now in what direction to go."

Finn then asked her name and the name of her husband.

"My husband's name is Lavaran, and mine is Glanlua. But I perceive that

you are one of the Fena; and indeed I think, from your arms and from

your noble mien, that you must be the great chief Finn himself. If this

be so, I place myself under your protection; and I know well that you

will lead me safely out of this place to my husband; for the Fena never

yet refused their help to a woman in distress."

Finn replied, "You are quite right, lady, for I am Finn; and this chase

that has parted you and your husband belongs to me. We will certainly

take you under our protection, and we will neither abandon you on this

mountain, nor suffer any one to harm you. But as to leading you to your

husband, it is not at present in our power to do that; for you must

know, lady, that we also have been set astray by this magical fairy fog.

Nevertheless, we will do the best we can; and now you had better come

with us."

So the three set forward in the direction they thought most likely to

lead to the open plain.

After walking for some time, they heard a low, sweet strain of fairy

music; and they stopped to listen. It seemed to be near them and around

them in the fog, so that Finn thought it came from the spot where the

lady stood; and she thought it came from Finn or Dara: and the music was

followed by shouts and noise, as if from a great company. When the noise

ceased, the music began again more sweetly than before; so that they

felt heavy, and as if inclined to sleep. Still more drowsy and powerless

they became as they listened; and at last they all three sank on the

ground, in a trance deep and deathlike.

After a time they awoke, and slowly regained their senses; though they

were so weak that they could scarcely move. The fog had cleared away,

leaving the air bright and warm; and when they were able to look around,

they found themselves on the margin of a blue lake. The part of the lake

that lay in front of them was narrow, and quite calm and smooth; but on

each side, to the right and left, it opened out into two broad,

green-bordered seas, with great waves tumbling wildly about, as if the

waters were torn up by whirlwinds. But where they sat, not a breath was

blowing. And looking across the narrow part, they saw a stately palace

right before them on the opposite shore.

As they were gazing at all these strange things, silent and much

astonished, they saw a warrior coming forth from the palace, in size

like a giant, rough and fierce-looking, with a beautiful woman by his

side. The two walked quickly down to the shore, and, plunging in, they

swam straight across the middle of the lake. And Dara and Glanlua,

turning to Finn, said--

"Of a surety, it is not for our good yonder strangers are approaching;

but to work us treachery and mischief!"

This forecast turned out to be true. The large warrior and the beautiful

lady had no sooner gained the land than they came up to Finn and his two

companions; and without speaking a word, the giant seized them roughly,

and led them down to the shore of the lake. For the two heroes were

still so weak from the spell of the fairy music that they were not able

to raise a hand to defend either the lady or themselves.

The giant and his companion, making no delay, plunged in, and swam back

towards the palace, bringing the three with them; and as soon as they

had reached the shore, the strange warrior, addressing Finn in a fierce

and surly manner, said--

"For a long time have I sought Finn Mac Cumal, the evil-minded and

crafty; and now, O Finn, now that thou hast been by a well-laid plan

cast under my power, I will take good care that thou shalt not escape

till I take revenge, even to the full, for all the injuries thou hast

done to me and to my sister!"

Finn listened to this speech with much surprise, for he could not call

to mind that he had ever seen the hero before; and he said--

"Tell me, I pray thee, who thou art; for I know thee not; neither do I

know of any injury thou hast suffered at my hands. Thou art, indeed,

large of body, and fierce and boastful in speech; but know that to take

revenge on a foe who is unable to defend himself, is a deed quite

unbecoming a hero!"

The large man replied, "Do you not remember the treachery you practised

on Mergah of the Sharp Spears, and on my sons, two fair youths, whom you

slew by unfair means, at the battle of Knockanare?[CXLVIII.] Well indeed

do I know thee, Finn, for I am Dryantore, and this is Ailna my sister,

the wife of Mergah. She is left without her husband, and I without my

sons, by your cruel wiles; for it was by fraud and foul play, and not by

fair fighting, that you gained the battle of Knockanare, and slew Mergah

and his host!"

"I remember well," said Finn, "that they all fell on the battle-field;

but it was not by craft or treachery. Mergah of the Sharp Spears came

with a mighty host to conquer Erin, and lay it under tribute. But they

were met at Knockanare, and every man of them slain in fair, open fight,

though not without sore loss to the Fena."

"You may say what you please on the matter," said Dryantore; "but it is

quite enough for me that you have slain Ailna's husband and my two sons.

And now, indeed, I shall take revenge--of that be sure--both on you and

on all the Fena that come within my reach."

And having so spoken, he began without more ado to bind Finn, Dara, and

Glanlua in strong fetters; and having done so, he threw them into a

dungeon, where he left them without food or drink or comfort of any

kind.

Meantime the Fena ceased not to search for their king. They knew, by the

sad strain they had heard in the distance, and by the strange manner in

which the music had shifted from place to place, that he was caught

under some druidic spell; and they vowed they would never rest till they

had found him and punished the enchanter, whoever he might be.

Next day, Ailna visited the dungeon; and Finn addressed her--

"Hast thou forgotten, Ailna, that when thou didst come to Erin after the

death of thy husband, Mergah of the Sharp Spears, the Fena received thee

hospitably, and, pitying thy distress, treated thee with much kindness?

But for this thou hast indeed given us an ungrateful and unbecoming

return; for thou hast shut us up in this dungeon, without food or drink,

having, by guileful druidical spells, taken away our strength."

"I remember very well," said Ailna, "that you treated me kindly. But you

killed my husband; and I am well pleased that it has now come to my

turn to avenge his death. I do not feel the least pity for you; and I

only wish that the whole of the Fena were with you in that dungeon, to

be dealt with by my brother."

Then, casting her eyes on Glanlua, she began to upbraid her in bitter

words for having been in the company of Finn and Dara. But Glanlua

explained the matter, saying that she had never seen either of the

chiefs before, and that it was only by chance she had fallen on them

when she had lost her way in the fog.

"If that be so," said Ailna, "it is not just that you should be punished

for the evil deeds of the others."

And she went and told Dryantore, who came forthwith to release the lady.

Glanlua took leave of Finn and Dara, and left the prison, grieving much

for their evil plight; for she was grateful for their kindness on the

mountain. Ailna led her to the palace; and, having placed food before

her, bade her eat. But Glanlua, being overcome by weakness, suddenly

fell into a swoon, and remained for a long time without sense or motion,

like one dead. When at last she opened her eyes, she saw Ailna standing

near, holding in her hand a golden drinking-horn. And Ailna gave her to

drink, and immediately the spells lost their power; and she regained her

strength; and the bloom and beauty of her countenance returned.

But now she bethought her of the two heroes; and, remembering their

dismal plight in the dungeon, she became sorrowful, and began to sigh

and weep. And when Ailna and Dryantore came to know the cause of her

tears, they told her with much severity that Finn and Dara deserved

their punishment; and that both should stay in prison till the time had

come to put them to death.

"I seek not to release them from prison or to save them from death,"

said Glanlua; "but that they are left without food and drink--this it is

that moves me to pity."

And Dryantore said, "If only that has caused your tears, you may, if you

so please, bring them food. Besides, I do not mean to put them to death

immediately. I shall let them live yet awhile, that I may decoy by them

the other Fena, who are now wandering hither and thither in quest of

their chief. And it is my firm belief that in a little time I shall have

them all in that dungeon."

So Glanlua went to the prison, bringing food and drink, and Ailna went

with her. They found the heroes sitting on the floor, sorrowing, their

strength and activity all gone; for the music-spell still held them, and

they suffered also from want of food. And when they saw the two ladies,

they shed bitter tears. Glanlua, on her part, wept with pity when she

looked on the wasted face of the chief. But not so Ailna; she was

pleased at their distress, for her heart was hardened with vengeance,

and she longed for the time when they should suffer death. Howbeit,

Glanlua placed food and drink before them, and they ate and drank and

were strengthened for the time.

When the two ladies returned, Dryantore asked Glanlua if it were true

what he had heard, that Dara was a favourite among the Fena; and why it

was that they loved him so.

Glanlua replied, "I only know that he is a very skilful musician; for I

never heard melody sweeter than the strains he played yesterday, when I

met himself and Finn in the fog."

"I should like very much to hear this music," said Dryantore, "if it be

so melodious as you say;" and as he spoke these words he went towards

the dungeon.

And when he had come to the door, he said to Dara, in a loud, harsh,

surly voice--

"I have heard that you are a skilful musician, and can play very sweet

strains. I wish you to play for me now that I may know if this be true."

To which Dara replied, "If I had the Fena around me, I could delight

them with the melody of my timpan; but as for you, guileful and cruel as

you are, I do not believe that you can take any pleasure in music.

Moreover, how can you expect that I should play sweet music for you,

seeing that I am shut up here in this dismal dungeon, and that all manly

strength and cheerfulness of mind have left me through your foul

spells?"

"I will take off the spells if only you play for me," said Dryantore;

"and if your strains be as delightful as I have heard reported, I will

bring you forth from your prison, and I will keep you for ever in my

castle, and you shall play for me whensoever I wish for music."

"I shall never consent to be released, neither will I play any music for

you, so long as my chief lies in bondage and under enchantment," said

Dara; "for I grieve not indeed for myself, but for him."

Dryantore replied, "I will lift the spells from both of you for a time;

but as to releasing Finn, that is a matter I do not wish to talk of

now."

Whereupon Dryantore removed the spells, and the heroes regained their

strength and courage.

Dara then played a low, sweet tune; and Dryantore, who had never before

heard such music, listened with delight and wonder. He was so charmed

that he called Ailna and Glanlua, that they also might hear; and they

were as much delighted as the giant. But what pleased Glanlua most was

to see the heroes restored to their wonted cheerfulness.

Now all this time the Fena were seeking among the glens and hollows of

the mountain for Finn and Dara. After walking for some time over a stony

and rugged way, a faint strain of music struck on their ears. They

stopped to listen, breathless; and every man knew the sound of Dara's

timpan; and they raised a shout of gladness, which reached Finn and Dara

in their dungeon. At the same moment they came in view of the palace,

and they drew their swords and put their shields and spears in

readiness, as men do going to battle. And they went forward warily, for

they feared foul play, and their hearts had a forecast that a foe was

near. But, indeed, they little deemed what manner of foe they should

meet.

When Dryantore heard the shouts, he hid himself from the view of the

Fena, and forthwith betook him to his magic arts. And again the spell

fell on the two heroes, and their strength departed; and Dara's hand,

losing its cunning, trembled on the strings, so that his music became

dull and broken.

And when Dara's music ceased, the Fena heard a low, hoarse murmur,

which, growing each moment louder, sounded at last like the hollow roar

of waves. And anon their strength and their swiftness left them, and

they fell to the ground every man, in a deep trance as if they slept the

sleep of death.

Then Dryantore and Ailna came forth, and having bound them one by one in

strong, hard fetters, they roused them up and led them helpless and

faltering to the dungeon, where they shut them in with Finn and Dara.

The Fena looked sadly on their king; and he, on his part, shed bitters

tears to think that he had decoyed them--though, indeed, he had done so

unwittingly--into the hands of their foe.

In the midst of their sighs and tears they heard the loud voice of the

giant, who, looking in on them from the open door, addressed them--

"Now at last, ye Fena, you are in my safe keeping. Truly you have done

great deeds in your time, but yet, methinks, you will not be able to

escape from this prison till I have taken just vengeance on you for

slaying Mergah of the Sharp Spears, and my two sons, at the battle of

Knockanare!"

And having so spoken, he shut the door and went his way.

When he came to the palace, he found that Glanlua's husband, Lavaran,

had been there. Upon which he fell into a mighty rage; for he feared to

let any man know the secrets of the palace; and he feared also that

Lavaran might try to aid Finn and the others. He inquired of the two

ladies whither he had gone; but they replied they did not know. He then

began to search through the rooms, and, raising his voice, he called

aloud for Lavaran; and the Fena, even in their dungeon, heard the roar

quite plainly.

Lavaran, hearing him, was sore afraid, and answered from a remote part

of the palace. And as he came forward, the giant placed him under his

spells, and, having bound him, flung him into the dungeon with the

others.

Dryantore's fury had not in the least abated; and, entering the dungeon,

he struck off the heads of several of the Fena with his great sword,

saying he would visit them each day, and do in like manner till he had

killed them all.

During this time the Fena were unable to defend themselves; for, besides

that their strength had gone out from their limbs on account of the

spells, they found that from the time the enchanter entered the prison,

they were all fixed firmly in their places, every man cleaving to the

ground, in whatsoever position he chanced to be, sitting, lying, or

standing. And Finn shed tears--even tears of blood in sight of

all--seeing his men fall one by one, while he had to look on without

power to help them.

After Dryantore had in this manner slain several, he approached Conan

Mail,[23] with intent to end that day's work by cutting off his head;

and as it chanced, Conan was lying full length on the floor. Now Conan,

though he was large-boned and strong, and very boastful in his speech,

was a coward at heart, and more afraid of wounds and death than any man

that ever lived.

So when he saw Dryantore coming towards him with his sword in his hand

all dripping, he shouted aloud--

"Hold thy hand, Dryantore! Hold thy hand for a little while, and be not

guilty of such treachery!"

But the giant, not heeding in the least Conan's words, raised his sword

with his two hands and rose on tiptoe for a mighty blow. Then Conan,

terrified beyond measure, put forth all his strength to free himself,

and bounded from the floor clear outside the range of the sword; but

left behind him, clinging to the floor, all the skin of his back, even

from the points of his shoulders to the calves of his legs.

When he saw the giant still making towards him in a greater rage than

ever for missing his blow, he again cried aloud--

"Hold your hand this time, Dryantore! Is it not enough that you see me

in this woful plight? For it is plain that I cannot escape death. Leave

me, then, to die of my wounds, and slay me not thus suddenly!"

Dryantore held his hand; but he told Conan that he would for a certainty

kill him next time he came, if he did not find him already dead of his

wounds. Then he stalked out of the dungeon, and, shutting close the

door, left the Fena in gloom and sadness.

Though Lavaran had been only a little while in the palace, he made good

use of his time, and now approaching Finn, he whispered in his ear--

"There is that in yonder palace which would free us from those accursed

spells if we only could get at it."

And when Finn asked what it was, he replied, "A magical golden

drinking-horn of wondrous virtue. I saw it in the palace among many

other precious jewels."

And when Finn again questioned him how he knew of its secret power, he

said--

"Glanlua, my wife, told me. For she said that, being herself at the

point of death, Ailna fetched this drinking-horn and bade her drink. And

when she had drunk, she was immediately freed from spells and sickness.

She told me, moreover, that it would remove the spell from the Fena, and

bring back their strength and heal their wounds, if they could get to

drink from it."

Conan, being near, overheard this conversation; and he inwardly

resolved that he would try to secure the drinking-horn, if perchance he

might be able to heal his wounds by means of it.

Not long after, the giant again came to the prison, sword in hand, and

addressed Conan in these words--

"Come forward now, O big, bald man, for I am about to fulfil my promise

to you! Come forward, that I may strike off your large head; for I see

that your wounds have not killed you!"

But Conan, instead of coming forward, fell back even to the farthest

part of the dungeon, and replied--

"You must know, Dryantore, that I, of all men alive, am the most

unwilling to die any death unworthy of a brave hero. You see my evil

plight, all wounded and faint from loss of blood; and, being as I am a

valiant warrior, it would surely be a shameful thing and a foul blot on

my fame, to be slain while in this state. I ask only one favour--that

you cure me of my wounds first. After this, you may put me to death in

any manner that is most agreeable to you."

To this Dryantore consented, seeing that Conan was secure; and he called

to Ailna and bade her fetch him the magical golden drinking-horn. "For I

wish," said he, "to heal the wounds of yonder big, bald man."

But Ailna replied, "Of what concern are his wounds to us? Is it not

better that he should die at once, and all the other Fena with him?"

Conan spoke out from where he stood, "Lovely Ailna, I seek not to escape

death. I ask only to be healed first and slain afterwards!"

Ailna went to the palace and soon returned, bringing, not the

drinking-horn, but a large sheepskin, covered all over with a long

growth of wool. Dryantore took it from her, and doing as she told him,

he fitted it on Conan's back, where it cleaved firmly, so that his

wounds were all healed up in an instant.

As long as Conan lived afterwards, this sheepskin remained on his back;

and the wool grew upon it every year, even as wool grows on the back of

a living sheep. And from that time forth, the other Fena were always

mocking him and laughing at him and calling him nicknames.

As soon as Conan felt his wounds healed, he again spoke to the giant--

"It is my opinion, Dryantore, that it would be a very unwise thing for

you to put me to death. I see plainly you want a servant. Now, although

I am large of bone and strong of body, and very brave withal, still I am

very harmless. And if you let me live, I shall be your servant for ever,

and you will find me very useful to you."

The giant saw the force and wisdom of Conan's words; and he felt that he

wanted a servant very much, though he never perceived it till that

moment, when Conan reminded him of it.

So he said, "I believe, indeed, Conan, that your words are truth.

Wherefore, I will not put you to death. You are now my servant, and so

shall you be for the rest of your life."

He then led Conan forth from the dungeon towards the palace; and he was

in such good humour at having got a servant, that he forgot to kill any

of the Fena on that occasion.

He called to him Ailna and Glanlua, to tell them of what he had done.

And he said to them--

"I find that I need a servant very much. Wherefore, I have made Conan my

servant. And I am now about to free him from the spell and give him back

his strength by a drink from the golden drinking-horn, so that he may be

able to wait on me and do my work."

For Conan, though his wounds were healed, was still so weak from the

spell that he was scarce able to walk.

"I do not at all approve what you have done," said Ailna. "It would be,

methinks, much better to put him straightway to death along with all the

others. As long as he is with us as our servant, I shall never think

myself free from danger; for the Fena are treacherous all alike."

"As for the other Fena," replied Dryantore, "you need not be in any

trouble on their account, for their time is short. As soon as I have got

Conan free from the spell, I will go straight to the dungeon and kill

them, every man. And when they are fairly put out of the way, it seems

to me that we need not fear danger from this big, bald man with the

sheepskin on his back."

When Ailna heard that the death of the Fena was near at hand, she no

longer gainsaid her brother. So Dryantore led Conan to the palace; and

placing the magical drinking-horn in his hand, bade him drink. And Conan

drank; and immediately his strength and his spirits returned.

Now it so happened, while these things went on, that Finn asked Dara to

play one of his sweet, sad tunes, that they might hear the music of his

timpan before they died. And Dara took his timpan, and began to play;

and historians say that no one either before or since ever played

sweeter strains.

At the very moment that Conan had finished drinking, he and Dryantore

heard the music sounding faintly in the distance; and the giant opened

the door and stood on the threshold to listen. He was so charmed that he

quite forgot all about Conan and the drinking-horn; and finding that he

could not hear the music plainly enough where he stood, he walked

hastily towards the dungeon, leaving Conan behind with the drinking-horn

in his hand.

No sooner had he gone out than Conan hid the drinking-horn under his

cloak, and went to the dungeon after him.

And when the giant saw him he said, "Why have you followed me; and what

business have you here? Are you not my servant; and why have you come

without being bidden by me?"

"I thought," replied Conan, "that you were about to put the Fena to

death; and I came to look at them once more before they died."

Then suddenly Dryantore bethought him of the drinking-horn, and he

said, "Where is the golden drinking-horn I gave you?"

"I left it," said Conan, "just where I found it in the palace."

The giant ran hastily towards the palace to secure the drinking-horn;

and no sooner was he out of sight than Conan, drawing forth the horn,

put it to the lips of each to drink, beginning with Finn. Only Finn and

Oscar had drunk, when they heard the heavy steps of the giant running

towards the dungeon; and now they saw that he was indeed inflamed with

fury. Oscar seized his great, polished spear, and sprang to the door;

and the others raised a mighty shout of joy; while Conan went on

releasing the heroes one by one.

When Dryantore saw Oscar, he uttered a roar of rage and disappointment;

and then called aloud to Ailna to come to him. And she came forth; and

when she saw how matters stood, she was seized with such grief and

terror that she dropped down and died immediately. Glanlua was standing

near at hand, rejoicing at the release of her husband and friends; but

when she saw Ailna fall to the ground dead, she became sad, and,

stooping down, wept over her.

All this Oscar saw from where he stood; and it was with much ado he

checked his tears. For though my son was the bravest of the heroes, and

the most terrible in battle, he had a gentle heart, and never saw a

woman or a child in distress without being moved to pity.

But Conan felt not the least pity. On the contrary, he was very glad to

see Ailna dead; and he told Oscar that it was very well she was out of

the way, for that she was a vicious woman, and had wrought the Fena much

trouble and woe.

And now Oscar, casting his eyes again on Dryantore, hardened his heart

for battle, and addressed the giant in these words--

"It has at last come to pass, O Dryantore, that you are in the power of

the Fena; and there is no escape for you, though you are a large and

strong giant, and a druid with powerful magical spells. But the Fena

never yet treated an enemy ungenerously. You indeed dealt unfairly and

treacherously with us; and meant to kill us all, after having taken away

our strength and valour by your black, guileful magic. But even so, we

give you your choice; and we challenge you now to single combat with any

of our champions you may wish to choose."

To which Dryantore replied, "It is very true that the Fena have

prevailed over me; and it is a just punishment for my folly in releasing

Conan the Bald from my spells. I desire single combat. I will fight the

Fena one after another, till I either fall myself or slay them all; and

I will begin with you!"

Oscar then took his shield and made ready for battle. Meantime the

giant, harbouring great wrath against Conan, approached him unawares;

and when he had come near enough, he sprang suddenly on him, and aimed a

blow with all his might at his head. But Conan, springing aside, barely

escaped the edge of the sword; and, running in great fear, called to

Oscar with great outcry to save him from the giant.

Then Oscar ran between; and he and the giant fought a long and fierce

fight, while we looked on with anxious hearts. The giant was furious and

strong; but my son was active and watchful and fearless of heart; and

Dryantore at length fell at the door of his own palace, pierced through

and through by the long, smooth spear of Oscar.

When the Fena saw the giant fall, they raised three mighty shouts of

joy. And Glanlua brought the magic drinking-horn to Oscar, from which he

drank, so that his wounds were healed, and his strength straightway

returned to him.

The Fena then went into the palace, where they found food in great

plenty, with wine and mead in golden bowls and drinking-horns. And they

ate and drank and made merry; after which they rested that night on soft

beds and couches.

When they awoke in the morning, all was changed. The palace and the lake

were gone; and the heroes found themselves lying on the heathy side of

Slieve Fuad, at the selfsame spot where they had first started the deer;

with the morning sun shining brightly over their heads.

FOOTNOTES:

[CXLIV.] This story is told by Oisin to St. Patrick. (See the prefatory

note to the next story, "Oisin in Tirnanoge," page 385.)

[CXLV.] Slieve Fuad was the ancient name of the highest of the Fews

mountains, near Newtown Hamilton, in Armagh; but the name is now lost.

[CXLVI.] Now probably the village of Carrigans, on the river Foyle, five

miles south-west of Londonderry.

[CXLVII.] Dord-Fian, a sort of musical war-cry. (See note, page 195.)

[CXLVIII.] Knockanare (the hill of slaughter), where a great battle was

fought between the Fena under Finn, and the foreigners under Mergah of

the Sharp Spears, in which Mergah was defeated and slain. This battle

forms the subject of a poetical romance. It may be as well to observe

that this hill is _not_ Knockanare in Kerry, near the mouth of the

Shannon, as some say.

OISIN IN TIRNANOGE;[CXLIX.]

OR,

THE LAST OF THE FENA.

[According to an ancient legend, Finn's son, Oisin, the hero-poet,

survived to the time of St. Patrick, two hundred years (the legend

makes it three hundred) after the other Fena. On a certain occasion,

when the saint asked him how he had lived to such a great age, the

old hero related the following story.]

A short time after the fatal battle of Gavra,[CL.] where so many of our

heroes fell, we were hunting on a dewy morning near the brink of Lough

Lein,[CLI.] where the trees and hedges around us were all fragrant with

blossoms, and the little birds sang melodious music on the branches. We

soon roused the deer from the thickets, and as they bounded over the

plain, our hounds followed after them in full cry.

We were not long so engaged, when we saw a rider coming swiftly towards

us from the west; and we soon perceived that it was a maiden on a white

steed. We all ceased from the chase on seeing the lady, who reined in as

she approached. And Finn and the Fena were greatly surprised, for they

had never before seen so lovely a maiden. A slender golden diadem

encircled her head; and she wore a brown robe of silk, spangled with

stars of red gold, which was fastened in front by a golden brooch, and

fell from her shoulders till it swept the ground. Her yellow hair flowed

far down over her robe in bright, golden ringlets. Her blue eyes were as

clear as the drops of dew on the grass; and while her small, white hand

held the bridle and curbed her steed with a golden bit, she sat more

gracefully than the swan on Lough Lein. The white steed was covered with

a smooth, flowing mantle. He was shod with four shoes of pure yellow

gold, and in all Erin a better or more beautiful steed could not be

found.

As she came slowly to the presence of Finn, he addressed her courteously

in these words--

"Who art thou, O lovely youthful princess? Tell us thy name and the name

of thy country, and relate to us the cause of thy coming."

She answered in a sweet and gentle voice, "Noble king of the Fena, I

have had a long journey this day, for my country lies far off in the

Western Sea. I am the daughter of the king of Tirnanoge, and my name is

Niam of the Golden Hair."

"And what is it that has caused thee to come so far across the sea? Has

thy husband forsaken thee; or what other evil has befallen thee?"

"My husband has not forsaken me, for I have never been married or

betrothed to any man. But I love thy noble son, Oisin; and this is what

has brought me to Erin. It is not without reason that I have given him

my love, and that I have undertaken this long journey: for I have often

heard of his bravery, his gentleness, and the nobleness of his person.

Many princes and high chiefs have sought me in marriage; but I was quite

indifferent to all men, and never consented to wed, till my heart was

moved with love for thy gentle son, Oisin."

When I heard these words, and when I looked on the lovely maiden with

her glossy, golden hair, I was all over in love with her. I came near,

and, taking her small hand in mine, I told her she was a mild star of

brightness and beauty, and that I preferred her to all the princesses in

the world for my wife.

"Then," said she, "I place you under gesa,[12] which true heroes never

break through, to come with me on my white steed to Tirnanoge, the land

of never-ending youth. It is the most delightful and the most renowned

country under the sun. There is abundance of gold and silver and jewels,

of honey and wine; and the trees bear fruit and blossoms and green

leaves together all the year round. You will get a hundred swords and a

hundred robes of silk and satin, a hundred swift steeds, and a hundred

slender, keen-scenting hounds. You will get herds of cows without

number, and flocks of sheep with fleeces of gold; a coat of mail that

cannot be pierced, and a sword that never missed a stroke and from

which no one ever escaped alive. There are feasting and harmless

pastimes each day. A hundred warriors fully armed shall always await you

at call, and harpers shall delight you with their sweet music. You will

wear the diadem of the king of Tirnanoge, which he never yet gave to any

one under the sun, and which will guard you day and night, in tumult and

battle and danger of every kind. Lapse of time shall bring neither decay

nor death, and you shall be for ever young, and gifted with unfading

beauty and strength. All these delights you shall enjoy, and many others

that I do not mention; and I myself will be your wife if you come with

me to Tirnanoge."

I replied that she was my choice above all the maidens in the world, and

that I would willingly go with her to the Land of Youth.

When my father, Finn, and the Fena heard me say this, and knew that I

was going from them, they raised three shouts of grief and lamentation.

And Finn came up to me and took my hand in his, saying sadly--

"Woe is me, my son, that you are going away from me, for I do not expect

that you will ever return to me!"

The manly beauty of his countenance became quite dimmed with sorrow; and

though I promised to return after a little time, and fully believed that

I should see him again, I could not check my tears, as I gently kissed

my father's cheek.

I then bade farewell to my dear companions, and mounted the white steed,

while the lady kept her seat before me. She gave the signal, and the

steed galloped swiftly and smoothly towards the west, till he reached

the strand; and when his gold-shod hoofs touched the waves, he shook

himself and neighed three times. He made no delay, but plunged forward

at once, moving over the face of the sea with the speed of a

cloud-shadow on a March day. The wind overtook the waves and we overtook

the wind, so that we straightway lost sight of land; and we saw nothing

but billows tumbling before us and billows tumbling behind us.

Other shores came into view, and we saw many wonderful things on our

journey--islands and cities, lime-white mansions, bright greenans[CLII.]

and lofty palaces. A hornless fawn once crossed our course, bounding

nimbly along from the crest of one wave to the crest of another; and

close after, in full chase, a white hound with red ears. We saw also a

lovely young maiden on a brown steed, with a golden apple in her hand;

and as she passed swiftly by, a young warrior on a white steed plunged

after her, wearing a long, flowing mantle of yellow silk, and holding a

gold-hilted sword in his hand.

I knew naught of these things, and, marvelling much, I asked the

princess what they meant; but she answered--

"Heed not what you see here, Oisin; for all these wonders are as

nothing compared with what you shall see in Tirnanoge."

At last we saw at a great distance, rising over the waves on the very

verge of the sea, a palace more splendid than all the others; and, as we

drew near, its front glittered like the morning sun. I asked the lady

what royal house this was, and who was the prince that ruled over it.

"This country is the Land of Virtues," she replied. "Its king is the

giant, Fomor of the Blows, and its queen the daughter of the king of the

Land of Life.[19] This Fomor brought the lady away by force from her own

country, and keeps her in his palace; but she has put him under gesa[12]

that he cannot break through, never to ask her to marry him till she can

find a champion to fight him in single combat. But she still remains in

bondage; for no hero has yet come hither who has the courage to meet the

giant."

"A blessing on you, golden-haired Niam," I replied; "I have never heard

music sweeter than your voice; and although I feel pity for this

princess, yet your story is pleasant to me to hear; for of a certainty I

will go to the palace, and try whether I cannot kill this Fomor, and

free the lady."

So we came to land; and as we drew nigh to the palace, the lovely young

queen met us and bade us welcome. She led us in and placed us on chairs

of gold; after which choice food was placed before us, and

drinking-horns filled with mead, and golden goblets of sweet wine.

When we had eaten and drunk, the mild young princess told us her story,

while tears streamed from her soft, blue eyes; and she ended by saying--

"I shall never return to my own country and to my father's house, so

long as this great and cruel giant is alive!"

When I heard her sad words, and saw her tears falling, I was moved with

pity; and telling her to cease from her grief, I gave her my hand as a

pledge that I would meet the giant, and either slay him or fall myself

in her defence.

While we were yet speaking, we saw the giant coming towards the palace,

large of body, and ugly and hateful in appearance, carrying a load of

deerskins on his back, and holding a great iron club in his hand. He

threw down his load when he saw us, turned a surly look on the princess,

and, without greeting us or showing the least mark of courtesy, he

forthwith challenged me to battle in a loud, rough voice.

It was not my wont to be dismayed by a call to battle, or to be

terrified at the sight of an enemy; and I went forth at once without the

least fear in my heart. But though I had fought many battles in Erin

against wild boars and enchanters and foreign invaders, never before did

I find it so hard to preserve my life. We fought for three days and

three nights without food or drink or sleep; for the giant did not give

me a moment for rest, and neither did I give him. At length, when I

looked at the two princesses weeping in great fear, and when I called to

mind my father's deeds in battle, the fury of my valour arose; and with

a sudden onset I felled the giant to the earth; and instantly, before he

could recover himself, I cut off his head.

When the maidens saw the monster lying on the ground dead, they uttered

three cries of joy; and they came to me, and led me into the palace. For

I was indeed bruised all over, and covered with gory wounds; and a

sudden dizziness of brain and feebleness of body seized me. But the

daughter of the king of the Land of Life applied precious balsam and

healing herbs to my wounds; and in a short time I was healed, and my

cheerfulness of mind returned.

Then I buried the giant in a deep and wide grave; and I raised a great

carn over him, and placed on it a stone with his name graved in Ogam.

We rested that night, and at the dawn of next morning Niam said to me

that it was time for us to resume our journey to Tirnanoge. So we took

leave of the daughter of the king of the Land of Life; and though her

heart was joyful after her release, she wept at our departure, and we

were not less sorry at parting from her. When we had mounted the white

steed, he galloped towards the strand; and as soon as his hoofs touched

the wave, he shook himself and neighed three times. We plunged forward

over the clear, green sea with the speed of a March wind on a hill-side;

and soon we saw nothing but billows tumbling before us and billows

tumbling behind us. We saw again the fawn chased by the white hound with

red ears; and the maiden with the golden apple passed swiftly by,

followed by the young warrior in yellow silk on his white steed. And

again we passed many strange islands and cities and white palaces.

The sky now darkened, so that the sun was hidden from our view. A storm

arose, and the sea was lighted up with constant flashes. But though the

wind blew from every point of the heavens, and the waves rose up and

roared around us, the white steed kept his course straight on, moving as

calmly and swiftly as before, through the foam and blinding spray,

without being delayed or disturbed in the least, and without turning

either to the right or to the left.

At length the storm abated, and after a time the sun again shone

brightly; and when I looked up, I saw a country near at hand, all green

and full of flowers, with beautiful smooth plains, blue hills, and

bright lakes and waterfalls. Not far from the shore stood a palace of

surpassing beauty and splendour. It was covered all over with gold and

with gems of every colour--blue, green, crimson, and yellow; and on each

side were greenans shining with precious stones, built by artists the

most skilful that could be found. I asked Niam the name of that

delightful country, and she replied--

"This is my native country, Tirnanoge; and there is nothing I have

promised you that you will not find in it."

As soon as we reached the shore, we dismounted; and now we saw advancing

from the palace a troop of noble-looking warriors, all clad in bright

garments, who came forward to meet and welcome us. Following these we

saw a stately glittering host, with the king at their head wearing a

robe of bright yellow satin covered with gems, and a crown that sparkled

with gold and diamonds. The queen came after, attended by a hundred

lovely young maidens; and as they advanced towards us, it seemed to me

that this king and queen exceeded all the kings and queens of the world

in beauty and gracefulness and majesty.

After they had kissed their daughter, the king took my hand, and said

aloud in the hearing of the host--

"This is Oisin, the son of Finn, for whom my daughter, Niam, travelled

over the sea to Erin. This is Oisin, who is to be the husband of Niam of

the Golden Hair. We give you a hundred thousand welcomes, brave Oisin.

You will be for ever young in this land. All kinds of delights and

innocent pleasures are awaiting you, and my daughter, the gentle,

golden-haired Niam, shall be your wife; for I am the king of Tirnanoge."

I gave thanks to the king, and I bowed low to the queen; after which we

went into the palace, where we found a banquet prepared. The feasting

and rejoicing lasted for ten days, and on the last day, I was wedded to

the gentle Niam of the Golden Hair.

I lived in the Land of Youth more than three hundred years; but it

appeared to me that only three years had passed since the day I parted

from my friends. At the end of that time, I began to have a longing

desire to see my father, Finn, and all my old companions, and I asked

leave of Niam and of the king to visit Erin. The king gave permission,

and Niam said--

"I will give consent, though I feel sorrow in my heart, for I fear much

you will never return to me."

I replied that I would surely return, and that she need not feel any

doubt or dread, for that the white steed knew the way, and would bring

me back in safety. Then she addressed me in these words, which seemed

very strange to me--

"I will not refuse this request, though your journey afflicts me with

great grief and fear. Erin is not now as it was when you left it. The

great king Finn and his Fena are all gone; and you will find, instead of

them, a holy father and hosts of priests and saints. Now, think well on

what I say to you, and keep my words in your mind. If once you alight

from the white steed, you will never come back to me. Again I warn you,

if you place your feet on the green sod in Erin, you will never return

to this lovely land. A third time, O Oisin, my beloved husband, a third

time I say to you, if you alight from the white steed, you will never

see me again."

I promised that I would faithfully attend to her words, and that I would

not alight from the white steed. Then, as I looked into her gentle face

and marked her grief, my heart was weighed down with sadness, and my

tears flowed plentifully; but even so, my mind was bent on coming back

to Erin.

When I had mounted the white steed, he galloped straight towards the

shore. We moved as swiftly as before over the clear sea. The wind

overtook the waves and we overtook the wind, so that we straightway left

the Land of Youth behind; and we passed by many islands and cities, till

at length we landed on the green shores of Erin.

As I travelled on through the country, I looked closely around me; but I

scarcely knew the old places, for everything seemed strangely altered. I

saw no sign of Finn and his host, and I began to dread that Niam's

saying was coming true. At length, I espied at a distance a company of

little men and women,[CLIII.] all mounted on horses as small as

themselves; and when I came near, they greeted me kindly and

courteously. They looked at me with wonder and curiosity, and they

marvelled much at my great size, and at the beauty and majesty of my

person.

I asked them about Finn and the Fena; whether they were still living, or

if any sudden disaster had swept them away. And one replied--

"We have heard of the hero Finn, who ruled the Fena of Erin in times of

old, and who never had an equal for bravery and wisdom. The poets of the

Gaels have written many books concerning his deeds and the deeds of the

Fena, which we cannot now relate; but they are all gone long since, for

they lived many ages ago. We have heard also, and we have seen it

written in very old books, that Finn had a son named Oisin. Now this

Oisin went with a young fairy maiden to Tirnanoge, and his father and

his friends sorrowed greatly after him, and sought him long; but he was

never seen again."

When I heard all this, I was filled with amazement, and my heart grew

heavy with great sorrow. I silently turned my steed away from the

wondering people, and set forward straightway for Allen of the mighty

deeds, on the broad, green plains of Leinster. It was a miserable

journey to me; and though my mind, being full of sadness at all I saw

and heard, forecasted further sorrows, I was grieved more than ever when

I reached Allen. For there, indeed, I found the hill deserted and

lonely, and my father's palace all in ruins and overgrown with grass and

weeds.

I turned slowly away, and afterwards fared through the land in every

direction in search of my friends. But I met only crowds of little

people, all strangers, who gazed on me with wonder; and none knew me. I

visited every place throughout the country where I knew the Fena had

lived; but I found their houses all like Allen, solitary and in ruins.

At length I came to Glenasmole,[CLIV.] where many a time I had hunted

in days of old with the Fena, and there I saw a crowd of people in the

glen. As soon as they saw me, one of them came forward and said--

"Come to us, thou mighty hero, and help us out of our strait; for thou

art a man of vast strength."

I went to them, and found a number of men trying in vain to raise a

large, flat stone. It was half lifted from the ground; but those who

were under it were not strong enough either to raise it further or to

free themselves from its weight. And they were in great distress, and on

the point of being crushed to death.

I thought it a shameful thing that so many men should be unable to lift

this stone, which Oscar, if he were alive, would take in his right hand

and fling over the heads of the feeble crowd. After I had looked a

little while, I stooped forward and seized the flag with one hand; and,

putting forth my strength, I flung it seven perches from its place, and

relieved the little men. But with the great strain the golden

saddle-girth broke, and, bounding forward to keep myself from falling, I

suddenly came to the ground on my two feet.

The moment the white steed felt himself free, he shook himself and

neighed. Then, starting off with the speed of a cloud-shadow on a March

day, he left me standing helpless and sorrowful. Instantly a woeful

change came over me: the sight of my eyes began to fade, the ruddy

beauty of my face fled, I lost all my strength, and I fell to the earth,

a poor, withered old man, blind and wrinkled and feeble.

The white steed was never seen again. I never recovered my sight, my

youth, or my strength; and I have lived in this manner, sorrowing

without ceasing for my gentle, golden-haired wife, Niam, and thinking

ever of my father, Finn, and of the lost companions of my youth.

FOOTNOTES:

[CXLIX.] Tirnanoge, the Land of Youth. (See note 19 at the end.)

[CL.] Gavra, now Garristown, in the north-west of the county Dublin.

(For an account of this battle, see note 28 at the end.)

[CLI.] Lough Lein, the Lakes of Killarney.

[CLII.] Greenan, a summer-house; a house in a bright, sunny spot.

[CLIII.] The gigantic race of the Fena had all passed away, and Erin was

now inhabited by people who looked very small in Oisin's eyes.

[CLIV.] Glenasmole, a fine valley about seven miles south of Dublin,

through which the river Dodder flows.

THE

VOYAGE OF THE SONS OF O'CORRA.[CLV.]

A princely upright hundred-herd brugaid[CLVI.] was born one time in the

lovely province of Connaught, namely, Conall Derg O'Corra the

fair-haired. And thus was this brugaid (circumstanced):--he was a

fortunate, rich, prosperous man; and his house was never found without

three shouts in it--the shout of the brewers brewing ale, and the shout

of the servants over the caldrons distributing (meat) to the hosts, and

the shout of the youths over the chessboards[CLVII.] winning games from

one another.

The same house was never without three measures:--a measure of malt for

making yeast, a measure of wheat for providing bread for the guests, and

a measure of salt for savouring each kind of food.

His wife was Cairderga[CLVIII.] the daughter of the Erenach[CLIX.] of

Clogher.[CLX.] They felt no want of any kind except being without

children; and it was not that they were without children (being born to

them), but that the infants always died the moment after birth.

Then this brugaid said (one day) to his wife as she reclined near him on

the couch:--"It is a sad thing for us," said he, "that we have no

children who would take our place and fill it worthily when we are

gone."

"What desire is in your mind in regard to that?" says the wife.

"It is my desire," says the brugaid, "to make a bond with the demon to

try if he would give us a son or a daughter who would take our place

after us (since God has not done so)."

"Let us do that," said the woman.

They accordingly fasted (and prayed) to the demon; (and the demon

hearkened unto them. And in due time) the pains and struggles, of

childbirth came upon the lady; and she bore three sons at that great

birth, namely, a son at the beginning of the night, and a son at the

middle of the night, and a son at the end of the night.

And they were baptised according to the baptism of the pagans (by which

they were dedicated not to God but to the demon); and their names were

Lochan, Enna, and Silvester. And after that, they were reared and

carefully trained up till they were swift and active on sea and land; so

that they were an overmatch for all the young people of their own age in

every game and in every accomplishment. And they were in the mouths and

on the tongues of all who saw or heard of them in their day.

One day when they were resting at the railings of the house of their

father and mother, wearied after their hurling and their martial games,

the housefolk said that they saw no fault or defect in these handsome

much-renowned youths, except only their being baptised in the service of

the devil. (And the youths hearing this said):--"If it be so," said

they, "that the devil is our lord and master, it is very wrong of us not

to bring ruin and wrath and woe on his enemies, that is to say, (we

ought) to slaughter the clergy, and burn and spoil their churches."

Then did these three youths arise, (and collecting a band), and taking

unto them their arms, they came to Tuam-da-Gualann,[CLXI.] and spoiled

and burned the town. And (after that) they plundered and made dreadful

havoc on the churches and clergy throughout the province of Connaught,

until their wicked and bloodthirsty ravages were noised over the four

quarters of Erin. Thus did they run their evil course without ceasing

for a whole year, during which time they destroyed more than half the

churches of Connaught.

At the end of the year Lochan said to his brothers: "We have made one

great mistake through forgetfulness," says he, "and our lord the devil

will not be thankful to us on account of it." "What is that?" said the

other two youths. "Our grandfather," says he, "that is our mother's

father--not to have killed him and burned his church."

So they set out straightway, journeying without sparing or respite (to

Clogher), and this was how they found the erenach, namely, on the green

of the church with a great company of his folk around him, (waiting for

the O'Corras), in order to attend on them and to deal out to them the

choice of every food and the best of every ale. And the intention that

the elder had towards them, that indeed was not the intention they had

towards him, but to murder him and to burn and spoil his church.

Then the O'Corras came to the spot where the elder was standing, and

they made up their minds not to kill him or burn the houses till night,

when the cows and the (other) cattle of the homestead would be housed,

all in their own proper places.

The elder welcomed them and led them to the homestead; and he now became

aware of their intention. Nevertheless he put them in a goodly pleasant

_Greenan_,[CLXII.] and they were served with food and ale till they

became exhilarated and cheerful: after which couches were made ready for

them on lofty bedsteads.

And now deep slumber and heavy sleep fell on them, and a wonderful

vision was revealed in a dream to Lochan, the eldest of the sons of

O'Corra, in which he was carried to see heaven and hell. And after this

he awoke. The other two awoke at the same time, and they said:--"Let us

now arise, for it is time to plunder and destroy the homestead."

"Seems to me," said Lochan, "that this is not the right thing for us to

do: for evil is the lord we have served until now, and good is the Lord

we have plundered and outraged.

"And last night I had," said he, "a fearful dream, in which I saw a

vision of heaven and hell. And first I was taken to see hell, where were

countless souls of men and vast crowds of demons suffering divers

tortures, and plagues unexampled. And I saw the four rivers of hell,

that is to say, a river of toads, a river of serpents, a river of fire,

and a river of snow. I saw also a monstrous serpent with many heads and

legs, at sight whereof, even though it were only a single glance, all

the men in the world would drop dead with loathing and horror.

"After this methought I was taken to see heaven; where I beheld the Lord

Himself seated on His kingly throne, and angels in the shapes of white

birds singing for Him. And among them was one great snow-white bird of

dazzling brightness that excelled all the others in size and beauty and

voice, chanting strains of surpassing sweetness. Women in travail and

men sore wounded and sick people racked with pain would fall asleep if

they heard the delightful harmony of his voice. And it was made known to

me that this great bird who chanted such heavenly music to his mild Lord

was Michael the Archangel.

"And now my brothers," said Lochan, "it is my counsel to you that you

follow God henceforward."

"But," said the others, "will the Lord accept repentance from us for the

dreadful evils we have already done?"

They go to the father of their mother, namely, the erenach, and they ask

this thing of him. "He will accept your repentance without doubt," says

the erenach.

"Well then," said Lochan, "let Mass be celebrated for us, and put us

under instruction, and let us offer our confession to God. After that we

will make staffs of the handles of our spears; and we will go to Finnen

of Clonard,[CLXIII.] the tutor of the saints and of the just men of all

Erin. He is a very holy man, and he will advise us in regard to what we

ought to do."

To this counsel they agreed; and on the morrow they set out for the

place where Finnen was; whom they found on the green of Clonard with a

number of his clerics.

"Who are these coming towards us?" said the clerics. And one said, "They

are the O'Corras the robbers." Hearing this they fled, like lightning,

in a body from their master, for they felt quite sure that the O'Corras

were coming to slay them; so that Finnen was left quite alone before the

three brothers.

"It is from us the clerics are fleeing:" says Lochan.

"Of a certainty it is," said his brothers. "Let us," said Lochan, "cast

from us our staffs, the only little remnant of our arms left with us;

and let us throw ourselves on our knees before the cleric."

And this they did. "What is your desire?" says the cleric (Finnen). "Our

desire," said they, "is faith and piety, and to serve God, and to

abandon the lord whom we have hitherto served, namely, the devil."

"That is a good resolution," says the cleric; "and let us go now to the

homestead yonder, the place where live our brotherhood."

They go accordingly with him to the brotherhood; and after the matter

had been considered, it was arranged to set apart a young cleric to

teach them; and it was decreed that they should not speak to any one

except their own master till the end of a year.

So they continued for a whole year till they had read the Canons

through, and by the time they had come to be able to read them, the

whole brotherhood felt grateful (to God) for their piety and their

gentleness.

At the end of the year they came to Finnen; and they knelt before him,

and said to him:--"It is time now that we should be judged and sentence

passed on us for the great crimes we have committed.

"What," said Finnen, "do ye not think it enough--the penance you have

done already for a whole year among the brotherhood?" "It is not

enough," said they. "What then are the greatest crimes ye have

committed?" says Finnen. "We have burned more than half the churches of

Connaught; and neither priest nor bishop got quarter or protection from

us."

"You cannot" replied Finnen, "give back life to the people you have

killed; but do ye that which will be in your power, namely, to build up

the churches ye have burned, and to repair every other damage ye have

committed in them. And I will give to each man of you," says he, "the

swiftness and strength of a hundred; and I will take from you all

weariness of feet, of hands, and of body; and I will give you light and

understanding which will have neither decay nor end."

So the O'Corras departed, and went first to Tuam-da-Gualann; and after

that, they fared through the province, obedient to rule and working hard

each day, until it came to pass that they had restored everything they

had previously destroyed.

After that they came at the end of the year to speak with Finnen. "Have

you been able," asks Finnen, "to repair everything ye destroyed

belonging to the Church?" "We have," said they, "except one place alone,

namely Kenn-Mara."[CLXIV.] "Alas for that," says Finnen; "that is the

very first place you should have repaired; for it is the homestead of

the oldest of all the saints of Ireland, namely, the aged Camann of

Kenn-Mara. And now go and carefully restore everything ye have destroyed

in that homestead. And the sentence that holy man passes on you, fulfil

it patiently."

So they went gladly to Kenn-Mara; and they repaired everything they had

ruined there.

One day when they had come forth from the homestead, they sat on the

margin of the little bay, watching the sun as it went westward. And as

they gazed and reflected on the course of the sun, they began to marvel

greatly, pondering whither it went after it had gone down beneath the

verge of the sea. "What more wonderful thing is there in the whole

world," said they, "than that the sea does not freeze into ice, while

ice is formed in every other water!"

Thereupon they formed the resolution on the spot to bring unto them a

certain artificer who was a fast friend of theirs, and to (get him) to

make a three-hide curragh[CLXV.] for them. Accordingly the curragh was

made, and a strong-sided one it was. And the reward the artificer asked

for building it was to be let go with them.

When the time had come, and they were about to embark, they saw a large

crowd passing close by; and this crowd was a company of

_crossans_.[CLXVI.] When the _crossans_ saw the curragh putting forth on

the sea, they inquired:--"Who are yonder people that are launching this

curragh on the sea?" said they.

The _furshore_ (juggler) of the crossans said:--"I know them well; they

are the sons of Conall derg O'Corra the fair-haired of Connaught, the

destroyers and robbers, going on their pilgrimage on the sea and on the

great ocean, to make search for their Lord." "And indeed," added the

_furshore_, "my word for it, they do not stand more in need of seeking

for heaven than we do."

"It is a long day I fancy till you go on your pilgrimage," said the

leader of the band. "Say not so," answered the _furshore_: "for I will

certainly go with these people on my pilgrimage now without delay."

"Upon our word," said the _crossans_, "you will not take away our

clothes with you; for not a single article of the garments you wear

belongs to you." "It is not so small a matter that would keep me with

you," says he.

So they stripped off all his clothes, and sent him away mother naked to

the curragh.

"Who and what in the world are you, good man?" asked the crew. "A poor

wretch who wishes to go with you on pilgrimage," said he. "Indeed," said

they, "you shall not by any means come with us, seeing that you are

stark naked." "Say not so, young men," said he, "for the sake of God do

not refuse me; for I will amuse you and keep your hearts cheerful (with

my music and singing); and your piety will not be a whit the worse for

it."

And (inasmuch as he had asked) for the sake of God they consented to let

him go.

Now this is how it was with the crew:--each man of them had built a

church and raised an altar to the Lord in his own district. Their number

was nine; among whom was a bishop, and a priest, and a deacon; and they

had one _gilla_ (attendant) who was the ninth man.

"Let us go aboard our curragh now," says Lochan, "as we have finished

our task of restoring the churches, and as we have, besides, each of us

built a church to the Lord in our own district."

It was then they put up their prayers fervently to God in the hope that

they might have fine weather; and that the Lord would quell the fury of

the billows, and the might of the ocean, and the rage of the terrible

sea monsters. So they embarked in their curragh, bringing their oars;

and they began to question among themselves what direction they should

take. "The direction in which this wind will bring us," says the bishop.

And having commended themselves to God, one and all, they betook them to

their oars. A great wind now arose, which drove them out on the waste

of waters straight to the west; and they were forty days and forty

nights on the ocean. And God revealed to them great and unheard of

wonders.

They had not been long rowing when the _crossan_ died; and sad and

sorrowful were they for his loss, and wept much. While they were still

mourning, they saw a little bird alight on the deck of the curragh. And

the little bird spoke and said to them:--"Good people, tell me now in

God's name what is the cause of your sorrow."

"A _crossan_ that we had playing music for us; and he died a little

while ago in this curragh; and that is the cause of our sorrow."

And the bird said:--"Lo, I am your little _crossan_: and now be not

sorrowful any longer, for I am going straightway to heaven." So saying

he bade them farewell and flew away.

I.

They row forward for a long time till there was shown to them a

wonderful island, and in it a great grove of marvellous beauty, laden

with apples, golden coloured and sweet scented. A sparkling rivulet of

wine flowed through the midst of the grove; and when the wind blew

through the trees, sweeter than any music was the rustling it made. The

O'Corras ate some of the apples and drank from the rivulet of wine, and

were immediately satisfied. And from that time forth they were never

troubled by either wounds or sickness.

II.

Then they took to their oars; and after a time they came in view of

another island, and four companies of people in it, such as had never

been seen before. Now these people had divided the island into four

parts: old greyheaded people were in the first division; princes in the

second; warriors in the third; and servants in the fourth. They were all

beautiful and glorious to behold; and they diverted themselves

continually with games and pastimes. One of the crew went to them to ask

news: (he was a comely, well-favoured youth, but) he seemed ugly and

dark-visaged in presence of these glorious people. When he had got among

them, he became in a moment beautiful like the others; and he joined in

their games, and laughed, and made merry. Moreover he remembered nothing

more of his companions; and he sojourned in the island after that for

evermore. And the O'Corras were at length forced to depart, though much

grieved for the loss of their companion.

III.

Then they set out and rowed for some time till they sighted another

marvellous island. It stood up in the air high over the great sea; and

it was propped up by a pillar like a single foot standing under it in

the middle. And the crew heard great shouting and the loud conversation

of people on the top of the island overhead; but though the O'Corras

sailed round and round, they could not get a sight of them.

IV.

They row forward after that till they come to an island in which lived

one lone cleric. Very lovely was that island, and glorious its history.

Beautiful purple flowers covered all the plains, dropping honey in

abundance; and on the trees were perched flocks of bright-coloured birds

singing slow sweet fairy-music. The O'Corras went to ask the cleric

about himself and about the island. And he spoke as follows:--

"I am a disciple of St. Andrew the Apostle, and Dega is my name. On a

certain night I neglected to read my Matins; and it is for this that I

was sent on a pilgrimage on the ocean; and here I am awaiting the

Judgment day. And yonder birds that are singing those incomparable

strains on the trees, these are the souls of holy men."

V.

They took leave of the old man and plied their oars, till they reached

another island, with dead people on one side of it, and living people on

the other side: and many of the living people had feet of iron. All

round was a burning sea, which broke over the island continually in

mighty waves. And the living people uttered fearful cries when the fiery

waves flowed over them, for their torments thereby were great and

terrible.

VI.

After leaving this they rowed on till they saw an island formed of great

flat stones for ever burning red hot. And thereon they saw whole hosts

of people burning in great torment; and many had red fiery spits thrust

through their bodies. And they uttered great cries of pain without

ceasing. The crew called out from a distance to ask who they were:

whereupon one answered:--

"This is one of the flagstones of hell. We are souls who in life did not

fulfil the penance imposed on us; and warn all men to avoid this place;

for whosoever cometh hither shall never go hence till the Day of

Judgment."

VII.

The next island they saw was very beautiful and glorious to look upon.

It had a wall of copper all round it, with a network of copper hanging

out from each corner; and in the centre stood a palace. The crew left

their curragh on the strand and went towards the palace. And when they

had come nigh unto the wall, the wind, as it rustled and murmured

through the copper network, made music so soft and sweet that they fell

into a gentle slumber, and slept for three days and three nights. When

they awoke they saw a beautiful maiden coming towards them from the

palace. She had sandals of _findrina_ (a sort of white metal) on her

feet, and an inner garment of fine silk next her snow-white skin. She

wore a beautiful gold-coloured vest, and over all a bright-tinted

mantle, plaited fivefold on its upper border, and fastened at the neck

with a brooch of burnished gold. In one hand she held a pitcher of

copper, and in the other a silver goblet.

When she had come near she greeted them and bade them welcome. And she

gave them food from the copper pitcher which seemed to them like cheese;

and she brought them water in the silver goblet from a well on the

strand. And there was no delicious flavour that was ever tasted by man

that they did not find in this food and drink. Then the maiden said to

them:--"Although we are all--you and I--of one race, yet shall ye go

hence without delay, for your resurrection is not to be here."

So they bade her farewell and took to their oars once more.

VIII.

After rowing for some time they saw flocks of large birds of divers

colours flying over the sea; and their number was great beyond counting.

One of them alighted on the deck of the curragh.

"It would be a delightful thing," said one of the clerics, "if this bird

were a messenger from the Lord, sent to give us news."

"That would be quite possible with God," said the eldest; and as he

spoke he raised his eyes and looked at the bird. Whereupon the bird

spoke and said:--

"It is indeed to converse with you that I have come; for I am of the

land of Erin."

Now this bird was crimson red all over, except three beautiful streaks

on her breast, which shone as bright as the sun. And after a time she

said to the same cleric:--

"I am the soul of a woman; and I am your friend. And come ye now," says

she, "to hear yonder birds; for these are the souls that are permitted

to come out of hell every Sunday."