His skin lime-white, his hair golden; ready to work, gentle to women.
His great green vessels full of rough sharp wine, it is rich the king
was, the head of his people.
Seven sides Finn's house had, and seven score shields on every side.
Fifty fighting men he had about him having woollen cloaks; ten bright
drinking-cups in his hall; ten blue vessels, ten golden horns.
It is a good household Finn had, without grudging, without lust, without
vain boasting, without chattering, without any slur on any one of the
Fianna.
Finn never refused any man; he never put away any one that came to his
house. If the brown leaves falling in the woods were gold, if the white
waves were silver, Finn would have given away the whole of it.
Blackbird of Doire an Chairn, your voice is sweet; I never heard on any
height of the world music was sweeter than your voice, and you at the
foot of your nest.
The music is sweetest in the world, it is a pity not to be listening to
it for a while, O son of Calphurn of the sweet bells, and you would
overtake your nones again.
If you knew the story of the bird the way I know it, you would be crying
lasting tears, and you would give no heed to your God for a while.
In the country of Lochlann of the blue streams, Finn, son of Cumhal, of
the red-gold cups, found that bird you hear now; I will tell you its
story truly.
Doire an Chairn, that wood there to the west, where the Fianna used to
be delaying, it is there they put the blackbird, in the beauty of the
pleasant trees.
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