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Then Grania, her voice all tremulous with tears, told to Ossin the fate that awaited her, looking at him, but speaking for Diarmuid; bewailing bitterly the misery of fair youth in the arms of withered eld, and at last turning and openly begging Diarmuid to save her from her fate.
There, as Fergus sings, were Ossin and his following hunting, when certain ominous fair women lured them to a cave, women who were but insubstantial wraiths, to hold them captive till the seasons ran full circle, summer giving place again to winter and spring.
But enmity grew between Find with his warriors and Cormac the king, till at last a battle was fought where Find's men fell, and Cairbré, the well-instructed son of Cormac also fell. Thus passed away the ruling spirits of that age, the flowering time of the genius of Erin. The valor of Fergus and Cuculain, the rich imaginative life of Find and Ossin, were the flower of heroic centuries.
Patrick on his arrival in Ireland; but as the ancient Feni were idolaters, the hero bears but little goodwill to the saint. The last is in verse and is much the best. St. Patrick, who takes part in it, regards Niam as "a demon thing." The latter thinks the hero identical with Taliessin, as well as with Ossian, and says that the word Ossin means "a little fawn," from "os," "cervus."
The race carried them southwards some fifteen miles to the beautiful waters of Lough Leane, with its overhanging wooded hills, the Lake of Killarney, southward of which rises the huge red mass of Mangerton, in the midst of a country everywhere rich in beauty. The Hill of Barnec is close by, but the site of the magic dwelling, who can tell? Perhaps Find; or Cailté, or golden-tongued Ossin himself.
With all the valor and rich life of the days of Cuculain and Ossin, the destructive instinct of antagonism was very deeply rooted in all hearts; it did endless harm to the larger interests of the land, and laid Ireland open to attack from without. Because the genius of the race was strong and highly developed, the harm went all the deeper; even now, after centuries, it is not wholly gone.
But Ossin, being himself of more than human wisdom, found a way to trick the spirits; for daily he cut chips from his spear and sent them floating down the spring, till Find at last saw them, and knew the tokens as Ossin's, and, coming, delivered his son from durance among ghosts.
For no man lived more valiant than Cuculain, more generous than Fergus, more full of the fire of song than Ossin, son of Find. Nor amongst women were any sadder than Deirdré and Grania; craftier than Meave, more winsome than Nessa the mother of Concobar. Perfected flowers of human life all of them, if that be all of human life.
This is the world of Concobar and Cuculain; of Find and Ossin, as they themselves have painted it. The world of Find and Ossin, of Cael and Credé, was marked by a certain urbanity and freedom, a large-mindedness and imaginative power.
We have seen Cailté with Ossin following Find in his wild ride through the mountains of Killarney, and to Cailté is attributed the saying that echoes down the ages: "There are things that our poor wit knows nothing off!"
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