  Long, long ago, beyond the misty space Of twice a thousand years, In Erin old there dwelt a mighty race Taller than Roman spears; Like oaks and towers, they had a giant grace, Were fleet as deers: With winds and waves they made their biding-place, Their ocean-god was Mananan Mac Lir, Whose angry lips In their white foam full often would inter Whole fleets of ships: Crom was their day-god, and their thunderer Made morning and eclipse: Bride was their queen of song, and unto her They pray'd with fire-touch'd lips. Great were their acts, their passions, and their sports; With clay and stone They piled on strath and shore those mystic forts, Not yet undone; On cairn-crown'd hills they held their council courts; While youths—alone— With giant-dogs, explored the elks' resorts, And brought them down. Of these was Finn, the father of the bard Whose ancient song Over the clamour of all change is heard, Sweet-voiced and strong. Finn once o'ertook Granu, the golden-hair'd, From her, the lovely, and from him, the feared, The primal poet sprung— Ossian!—two thousand years of mist and change Surround thy name; Thy Finnian heroes now no longer range The hills of Fame. The very name of Finn and Gael sound strange; Yet thine the same By miscall'd lake and desecrated grange Remains, and shall remain! The Druid's altar and the Druid's creed We scarce can trace; There is not left an undisputed deed Of all your race— Save your majestic Song, which hath their speed, And strength, and grace: In that sole song they live, and love, and bleed— It bears them on through space. InspirÈd giant, shall we e'er behold, In our own time, One fit to speak your spirit on the wold, One pupil of the past, as mighty-soul'd As in the prime Were the fond, fair, and beautiful, and bold— They of your song sublime? Thomas D'Arcy McGee |
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