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Myths and Legends of the Celtic Race - Knowledge Rush

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236 <strong>Myths</strong> <strong>and</strong> <strong>Legends</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> <strong>Celtic</strong> <strong>Race</strong>[275]terror <strong>and</strong> dismay, <strong>and</strong> <strong>the</strong>y fled, jostling <strong>and</strong> overthrowing eacho<strong>the</strong>r to escape from <strong>the</strong> place <strong>of</strong> fear, for a marvel horrible to seehad taken place. For Oisīn's saddle-girth had burst as he heaved<strong>the</strong> stone <strong>and</strong> he fell headlong to <strong>the</strong> ground. In an instant <strong>the</strong>white steed had vanished from <strong>the</strong>ir eyes like a wreath <strong>of</strong> mist,<strong>and</strong> that which rose, feeble <strong>and</strong> staggering, from <strong>the</strong> ground wasno youthful warrior, but a man stricken with extreme old age,white-bearded <strong>and</strong> wi<strong>the</strong>red, who stretched out groping h<strong>and</strong>s<strong>and</strong> moaned with feeble <strong>and</strong> bitter cries. And his crimson cloak<strong>and</strong> yellow silken tunic were now but coarse homespun stuff tiedwith a hempen girdle, <strong>and</strong> <strong>the</strong> gold-hilted sword was a roughoaken staff such as a beggar carries who w<strong>and</strong>ers <strong>the</strong> roads fromfarmer's house to house.When <strong>the</strong> people saw that <strong>the</strong> doom that had been wroughtwas not for <strong>the</strong>m <strong>the</strong>y returned, <strong>and</strong> found <strong>the</strong> old man proneon <strong>the</strong> ground with his face hidden in his arms. So <strong>the</strong>y liftedhim up, <strong>and</strong> asked who he was <strong>and</strong> what had befallen him. Oisīngazed round on <strong>the</strong>m with dim eyes, <strong>and</strong> at last he said: “I wasOisīn <strong>the</strong> son <strong>of</strong> Finn, <strong>and</strong> I pray ye tell me where he dwells,for his dūn on <strong>the</strong> Hill <strong>of</strong> Allen is now a desolation, <strong>and</strong> I havenei<strong>the</strong>r seen him nor heard his hunting-horn from <strong>the</strong> western to<strong>the</strong> eastern sea.” Then <strong>the</strong> men gazed strangely on each o<strong>the</strong>r <strong>and</strong>on Oisīn, <strong>and</strong> <strong>the</strong> overseer asked: “Of what Finn dost thou speak,for <strong>the</strong>re be many <strong>of</strong> that name in Erin?” Oisīn said: “Surely <strong>of</strong>Finn mac Cumhal mac Trenmōr, captain <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Fianna <strong>of</strong> Erin.”Then <strong>the</strong> overseer said: “Thou art daft, old man, <strong>and</strong> thou hastmade us daft to take <strong>the</strong>e for a youth as we did a while agone.But we at least have now our wits again, <strong>and</strong> we know that Finnson <strong>of</strong> Cumhal <strong>and</strong> all his generation have been dead <strong>the</strong>se threehundred years. At <strong>the</strong> battle <strong>of</strong> Gowra fell Oscar, son <strong>of</strong> Oisīn,<strong>and</strong> Finn at <strong>the</strong> battle <strong>of</strong> Brea, as <strong>the</strong> historians tell us; <strong>and</strong> <strong>the</strong>lays <strong>of</strong> Oisīn, whose death no man knows <strong>the</strong> manner <strong>of</strong>, are sung

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