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Legendary fictions of the Irish Celts

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236 Fictions <strong>of</strong> tJic <strong>Irish</strong> <strong>Celts</strong>.<br />

kill so beautiful and gentle a beast under <strong>the</strong> circumstances<br />

was out <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> question. She followed him<br />

home, playing with <strong>the</strong> hounds, and was housed in<br />

Almuin that night.<br />

AVhen Fion was left alone late on that evening, a<br />

woman <strong>of</strong> fair features and rich dress presented herself<br />

before him, and declared herself <strong>the</strong> hunted fawn <strong>of</strong> that<br />

day. " For refusing <strong>the</strong> love <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Danaan Druid,<br />

Fear Doirche," said she, " I have for three years endured<br />

<strong>the</strong> nature and <strong>the</strong> dangers <strong>of</strong> a wild deer's life in a far<br />

district <strong>of</strong> Erinn, which dread ' Geasach' prevents me<br />

from naming. A pitying slave <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Druid at last<br />

revealed to me, that if I were once within any fortress<br />

owned by <strong>the</strong> Fians <strong>of</strong> Erinn, his power over me would<br />

be at an end. I flew with untiring limbs for a day,<br />

until I came into <strong>the</strong> territory <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> chief <strong>of</strong> Almuin,<br />

and ceased not my flight till Brann and Sceoluing <strong>of</strong><br />

human intellect were <strong>the</strong> only pursuers on my track.<br />

With <strong>the</strong>m my life was safe ; <strong>the</strong>y knew lue to be <strong>of</strong> a<br />

nature like to <strong>the</strong>ir own."<br />

Some months passed away, during which Fion went<br />

forth nei<strong>the</strong>r to <strong>the</strong> fight nor to <strong>the</strong> chase, so lost was he<br />

to all his former amusements and pursuits, through his<br />

deep love for <strong>the</strong> rescued princess. But at last <strong>the</strong> Loch-<br />

Leatmac/i (<strong>the</strong> Scandina\-ians) were in <strong>the</strong> bay <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Hill<br />

<strong>of</strong> Oaks (Howth). Seven days were <strong>the</strong> Fians absent, and<br />

on <strong>the</strong> eighth <strong>the</strong> chief was crossing <strong>the</strong> plain <strong>of</strong> Almuin<br />

with rapid strides, and wondering that his sweet flower<br />

was not looking towards him from <strong>the</strong> top <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> mound.<br />

The dwellers <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> fort rushed out in joy to greet <strong>the</strong>ir<br />

chief; but sadness sat on <strong>the</strong>ir faces. "Where is <strong>the</strong><br />

flower <strong>of</strong> Almuin, <strong>the</strong> beauteous, <strong>the</strong> tender Saav?"<br />

" Blame not her nor us, O fa<strong>the</strong>r <strong>of</strong> your people ! While<br />

<strong>the</strong> white strangers were falling beneath your axe <strong>of</strong> war,<br />

your likeness and <strong>the</strong> likenesses <strong>of</strong> Brann and Sceoluing<br />

appeared before <strong>the</strong> dun, and we thought we heard <strong>the</strong><br />

sweet-sounding Dord Fionn blow from your lips <strong>the</strong><br />

music that makes wounded men and women in travail

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