The Praise of Fionn Usheen (“Oisin” or “Ossian”), son of Fionn, is the great revenant of Irish literature. Translated to the Land of Youth by his love of a fairy queen, he returned to Ireland to find Fionn and his warriors long dead and St. Patrick and his monks in power. Although the poem is late so far as language goes—probably sixteenth—century—it has the feeling of the eighth or ninth century. Patrick you chatter too loud And lift your crozier too high, Your stick would be kindling soon If my son Osgar stood by. If my son Osgar and God Wrestled it out on the hill And I saw Osgar go down I’d say that your God fought well. But how could the God you praise And his mild priests singing a tune Be better than Fionn the swordsman, Generous, faultless Fionn? Just by the strength of their hands The Fenians’ battles were fought, With never a spoken lie, Never a lie in thought. There never sat priest in church A tuneful psalm to raise Better spoken than these Scarred in a thousand frays. Whatever your monks have called The law of the King of Grace, That was the Fenians’ law; His home is their dwelling-place. If happier house than Heaven There be, above or below, ’Tis there my master F ionn And his fighting men will go. Ah, priest, if you saw the Fenians Filling the Strand beneath Or gathered in streamy N aas You would praise them with every breath. Patrick, ask of your God Does he remember their might, Or has he seen east or west Better men in a fight? Or known in his own land Above the stars and the moon For wisdom, courage and strength A man the like of Fionn? Source: O'Connor, Frank (tr); Kings, Lords, & Commons: An Anthology from the Irish; 1962; London; Macmillan & Co; pp.28-29