Long are the clouds this night above me;
The last was a long night to me.
This day, although I find it long,
Yesterday was longer still.
Each day that comes is long to me,
Such indeed was not my wont.
Now is no fight, or battle-field,
No learning noble feats of arms
Without maiden, song, or harp;
No crushing bones or warlike deeds,
No studious learning any more,
No hospitable heart or board,
No soft wooing, and no chase,
In both of which I took delight.
Without the battle-march or fight,
Alas! how sorrowful life’s close;
No hunting of the hind or stag,
How different from my heart’s desire!
No trappings for our hounds, no hounds.
Long are the clouds this night above me.
No rising up to noble feats,
No mirthful sport as we would wish,
No swimming heroes in our lakes.
Long are the clouds this night above me;
In this great world none is like me,
So sad, how sad my case!
A poor old man now dragging stones.
Long are the clouds this night above me,
The last man of the Feine am I,
The great Ossian, the son of Finn,
Listening to the sound of bells.[46]
Long are the clouds this night above me.
Find, O Patrick, from thy God
What our eternal state shall be.
Freed may we ever be from ill.
Long are the clouds this night above me.
Long are the clouds, etc.
[45] This piece is extracted and printed in the report on the Poems
of Ossian, published by the Highland Society. Dr. Smith, however,
who made the extract, appears not to have read it with much care
or accuracy, and the concluding portion, from the twentieth line
downwards, is suppressed altogether. This seems to have arisen from a
desire to suppress all the references in those poems to St. Patrick,
and thus to establish by all possible means their Scottish origin.
If any of the Poems are the genuine compositions of Ossian, there is
sufficient evidence that the references to the Saint are of more recent
introduction, in the fact, that if Ossian saw Art, who lived in the
opening of the third century, as he tells us in the preceding fragment,
he could hardly hold a dialogue with St. Patrick, who flourished in the
fifth. In the present publication the poems of every kind are given
just as they stand, without any reference to the effect on existing
systems and theories, Scotch or Irish.
[46] The bells used in Christian worship. “Patrick of the bells,” is a
common appellation of St. Patrick in these compositions.
The Author of this is Ossian:
Once on a time when Finn my loved
Went to hunt on the “Fair maids’ hill,”[47]
With three thousand nobles of the Feine,
Their shields aloft o’er their heads.
Ossian! thy words are sweet to me,
My blessing on the soul of Finn.[48]
Tell us the number of the deer
That fell on the “Fair maids’ hill.”
[47] “Sliabh nam ban fionn,” or the “hill of the fair-haired women,” is
said to be one of the mountains of Tipperary, in the neighbourhood of
Clonmel. It is now called “Sliabh nam ban,” and has several traditions
of the Feine associated with it. The writer is not aware of any
mountain of the name in Scotland; besides, although the word “Sliabh”
is well known and in common use among the Scottish Highlanders, it is
seldom found in the topography of the country, in which the almost
uniform term for a mountain is “Beinn,” the English “Ben.” This is
one of the marked differences between Irish and Scottish topography.
The term under consideration has sometimes been called in Scotland
“Sliabh nam beann fionn,” “the hill of the fair hills,” a manifest
mistake, which the meaningless tautology should be enough to prove.
Topographical phrases in the Gaelic language are usually not only
grammatically accurate, but of remarkable elegance in their structure.
The interpretations often put upon them are a monstrous outrage upon
this sound and invariable principle.
[48] It is obvious that parts of these compositions are dialogues, for
the most part between Ossian and St. Patrick. The dialogue portion in
these editions of Dean M’Gregor’s is generally either prefixed or added
to the body of the poem. This is quite consistent with the genuineness
of the work, and can be explained upon the supposition, that these
portions were either prefixed or adjoined at an after period by some
other hand to serve a purpose. This cannot be said of those poems which
are in the form of dialogues throughout.
How vigorously we shook our spears,
For never hast thou sung the deer
Slain on the “Fair maids’ hill,”
By the hand of Finn of the feasts.
Tell them the tale in full,
My blessing on thy guileless lips.
Had you your dress and your armour
When you went forth to the chase?
We had our dress and our armour
When we went forth to the chase;
There was no Fian amongst us all
Without his fine soft flaxen shirt,
Without his under coat of substance soft,
Without a coat of mail of brightest steel,
The covering for his head adorned with gems,
And in his hand he bore two spears,
Besides a fierce and conquering shield,
And sword that never failed to cleave the skull.
Wert thou to search the universe
Thou would’st not find a braver man than Finn;
Of noblest race and fairest form,
No arm from him could carry victory.
As he went forth to try his snow-white hound
Who ’mongst us all was like to Finn?
Westward we went, an ordered band,
To hunt on the “Fair maids’ hill.”
O Patrick, pupil of the church’s head,
Bright was the sun above us,
As in the midst of us sat Finn.
Eastward and westward sweetly rung,
From hill to hill the voice of hounds,
Arousing boars and harts.
Then Finn and Bran[49] did sit alone
A little while upon the mountain side,
Each of them panting for the chase,
Their fierceness and their wrath aroused.
Then did we unloose three thousand hounds
Of matchless vigour and unequalled strength.
Each of the hounds brought down two deer,
Long ere ’twas time to bind them in their thongs.
That day there fell six thousand deer,
Down in the vale that lies beneath the hill;
There never fell so many deer and roe
In any hunt that e’er till this took place.
But sad was the chase down to the east,
Thou cleric of the church and bells,
Ten hundred of our hounds, with golden chains,
Fell wounded by ten hundred boars:
Then by our hands there fell the boars,
Which wrought the ill upon the plain.
And were it not for blades and vigorous arms,
That chase had been a slaughter.
[49] Bran was the famous hound of Finn. The word means “a raven,” but
used as an adjective it signifies “black,” which is apparently the
origin of the name. Another of his dogs was called “Luath,” or “Swift,”
also an adjective. These are common names for staghounds in the
Highlands at this day. Reference is made a few lines before this to a
white dog, “achoin ghil,” translated “snow-white,” “geal,” implying the
most intense whiteness.
O Patrick of the holy crosier,
Eastward or westward, hast thou ever seen,
Another chase, in all thy days,
Greater than that of Finn and of the Feine?
This then was the hunt of Finn,
Thou son of Alpin[50] of the holy relics,
More than thy howling in the church
Do I love to tell the day.
Once on a time, etc.