Excerpt from The Vengeance of Fionn
And when the feast Was loudest and the fiery torches gleamed Upon the silver methers of mead, Oisin Arose and sang of sorrow till men dreamed Of women that were dead. But Fionn cried out Bitter that song. Chaunt us of spear and skeen, How o... ne sleety day on Sliabh na mbhan our hounds Broke from the dripping bushes and a boar Sprang, he stopped. They heard strange trampled sounds And heavy breaths upon the night outside, But Fionn bent his grey head, smiling, his mind Druid-dark. The dagger guarded door Was turned by Kerns and with a shriek the wind Rushed in on them, laughingly Diarmuid cried Surely O Warriors our feast is good.
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