" "There can no healing be done for me now
for ever," said Osgar, "since the King of Ireland put the spear of seven
spells through my body." And Finn said: "It is a pity it was not I
myself fell in sunny scarce Gabhra, and you going east and west at the
head of the Fianna." "And if it was yourself fell in the battle," said
Osgar, "you would not hear me keening after you; for no man ever knew
any heart in me," he said, "but a heart of twisted horn, and it covered
with iron. But the howling of the dogs beside me," he said, "and the
keening of the old righting men, and the crying of the women one after
another, those are the things that are vexing me." And Finn said: "Child
of my child, calf of my calf, white and slender, it is a pity the way
you are. And my heart is starting like a deer," he said, "and I am weak
after you and after the Fianna of Ireland. And misfortune has followed
us," he said; "and farewell now to battles and to a great name, and
farewell to taking tributes; for every good thing I ever had is gone
from me now," he said.
And when Osgar heard those words he stretched out his hands, and his
eyelids closed. And Finn turned away from the rest, and he cried tears
down; and he never shed a tear through the whole length of his lifetime
but only for Osgar and for Bran.
And all that were left of the Fianna gave three gorrowful cries after
Osgar, for there was not one of the Fianna beyond him, unless it might
be Finn or Oisin.
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