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68 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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Their ocean-god was Man-a-nan M'Lir,
Whose angry lips, In their white foam, full often would inter
Whole fleets of ships; Cromah their day-god, and their thunderer,
Made morning and eclipse; Bride was their queen of song, and unto her
They prayed with fire-touched lips.
Great were their deeds, their passions, and their sports;
With clay and stone They piled on strath and shore those mystic forts,
Not yet o'erthrown; On cairn-crowned hills they held their council-courts;
While youths alone, With giant dogs, explored the elk resorts,
And brought them down.
Of these was Fin, the father of the Bard,
Whose ancient song Over the clamor of all change is heard,
Sweet-voiced and strong. Fin once o'ertook Granee, the golden-haired,
The fleet and young; From her the lovely, and from him the feared,
The primal poet sprung.
Ossian ! two thousand years of mist and change
Surround thy name — Thy Finian heroes now no longer range
The hills of fame. The very name of Fin and Gaul sound strange — |
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