Loaded bees of little power
Goodly flower-harvest win;
Cattle roam with muddy flanks;
Busy ants go out and in.
Through, the wild harp of the wood
Making music roars the gale--
Now it slumbers without motion,
On the ocean sleeps the sail.
Men grow mighty in the May,
Proud and gay the maidens grow;
Fair is every wooded height;
Fair and bright the plain below.
A bright shaft has smit the streams,
With gold gleams the water-flag;
Leaps the fish, and on the hills
Ardour thrills the flying stag.
Carols loud the lark on high,
Small and shy, his tireless lay,
Singing in wildest, merriest mood
Of delicate-hued, delightful May.[20]
[20] I am much indebted to the beautiful prose translation of
this song, published by Dr Kuno Meyer in _Eriu_ (the Journal of
the School of Irish Learning), Vol. I. Part II. In my poetic
version an attempt has been made to render the riming and
metrical effect of the original, which is believed to date from
about the ninth century.
CHAPTER X
The Coming of Finn
And now we tell how Finn came to the captaincy of the Fianna of Erinn.
At this time Ireland was ruled by one of the mightiest of her native
kings, Conn, son of Felimy, who was surnamed Conn of the Hundred
Battles.
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