Early one summer morning Fionn and
his son Oisin were hunting with the warriors of the Fianna
near the shores of Loch Lein. Coming swiftly towards them
through the morning mist they saw a beautiful girl riding on
a snow-white horse. On her head she wore a crown of gold and
a robe of the finest silk hung from her shoulders. Never had
the Fianna seen such a beautiful lady.
When she drew near, Fionn asked
her who she was and from what country she had come. She
answered in a low sweet voice. Her name was Niamh Chill Oir,
she said, and her father was king of Tir na nOg. It was a
land of joy and happiness where men and women were unknown.
The trees bore fruit the whole year round and flowers were
always in bloom.
Oisin listened in wonder to what
the beautiful princess said. Then he took her hand in his. He
was already in love with her, he said, and would gladly go to
Tir na nOG and be her husband. Fionn sadly said goodbye to
the son he loved so much. Then, waving farewell, Oisin jumped
on the horse behind Niamh and they galloped through the
morning mist and out og sight of the Fianna.
Oisin meeting Niambh on the shores
of Loch Lein.
Over land and sea the fairy horse
swiftly ran and soon the green woods of Ireland were far
behind. On the way Oisin saw many strange and wonderful
sights. They rode through storm and sunshine, past fairy
towers and beautiful palaces and finally reached the golden
shores of Tir na nOg. It was exactly as Niamh had said. All
the little animals of the woods were tame and friendly ; the
trees were covered with tasty fruit and everyone was young
and joyful. They were welcomed by Niamh's parents and lived
happily for three hundred years in a snow-white palace of the
king of Tir na nOg.
Then there came a day when Oisin
longed to visit his own country again and see his father and
the warriors of the Fianna. Niamh agreed to let him return.
But her heart was sad, for she feared that he might never
horse come back to her. She gave him her white horse, but
warned him that if his feet touched the soil of Ireland even
once he would never return to Tir na nOg. Oisin promised to
heed her words, though he thought them very strange. He
mounter the fairy horse and galloped over the fields and over
the sea until he reached the shores of Ireland.
He rode straight to the Hill of
Allen where Fionn's great dune used to stand, but to his
horror he found it covered with reeds and nettles. He
galloped throught he countryside bu everything was changed.
When he came to Glennna Smol, where he had so often hunted
with the Fianna, he saw a group of men trying to lift a great
stone from the earth. The mighty Oisin pitied these men, for
they were small and weal compared with the warriors of the
FIanna. He stooped from his saddle, lifted the stone with one
hand, and with a powerful heave flunf it far from him. But
the saddle-girth broke with the strain and Oisin tumbled to
the ground.
Instantly the white horse galloped
away and a terrible change came over Oisin. He was no longer
a mighty young warrior, but an old, old man, wrinkled, blind
and helpless.
The men standing by stared at him
in wonder. He called out to them and asked for news of Fionn
and the Fianna, but the answer they gave filled his heart
with sorrow. The Fianna were long since dead. Three hundred
years had passed since they hunted and feasted, yet in the
Land of Youth it had seemed no longer than a week.
He was taken to St. Patrick who
was then preaching the true faith in our land. The holy saint
treated him kindly and wrote down all that Oisin had to tell
him of the great adventures and mighty deeds of Fionn and the
Fianna.