Another surprising trait is the generosity he invariably displays to his vanquished foes. All the more surprising is it that a "savage" should show magnanimity when the heroes of civilized Greece, Rome, and Judea, counted it virtuous to torture their captured enemies. "None ever went sad from Fingal," he says himself. Over and over he is represented as lamenting the death of enemies when they fall, or granting them freedom and his friendship when they yield--"Come to my hill of feasts," he says to his wounded opponent Cathmor, "the mighty fail at times. No fire am I to lowlaid foes. I rejoice not over the fall of the brave." A notable fact about Fingal is, that though he lived in times of war, in disposition he was a man of peace. "Fingal delights not in battle though his arm is strong." "When will Fingal cease to fight?" he complains, "I was born in the midst of battles, and my steps must move in blood to the tomb." Under the influence of this desire for peace he formally gave up his arms to Ossian-- My son, around me roll my byegone years, They come and whisper in the monarch's ears. "Why does not grey-haired Fingal rest?" they say "Why does he not within his fortress stay? Dost thou in battle's gory wounds delight? Lovest thou the tears of vanquished men of might?" Ye hoary years! I will in quiet lie, Nor profit nor delight in blood have I. Like blustering storms from wintry skies that roll, Tears waste with grief and dreariness the soul. But when I stretch myself to rest, I hear The voice of war come thundering on my ear Within the royal hall, with loud command, To rouse and draw again th' unwilling brand.--_Tem. B. VIII._ Limited as were the means of communication in those pre-telegraphic times the fame of such a man must have spread. Accordingly, we read of his name being known and respected far and near. Foreign princes speak of him with admiration, and refugees from distant lands seek his protection. But it is on the power of his name in after times that we wish more particularly to dwell. There have been no people who honoured their heroes so much as the Celts. With them _valour_ and _value_ were synonymous terms. Theirs was not a nobility of money, or literature, or æsthetics, or even of territory. Nobleness should be the qualification of a nobleman, and strange as it may seem, it was among the uncivilised Celts of Ireland and Scotland that such a character was properly appreciated. But they held nobleness and heroism to be identical. They seem to have thoroughly believed that cowardice was but the result of vice. A fearless man, they felt, must be a true man, and he was honoured accordingly. _Flath-innis_, the _Isle of the Noble_, was their only name for heaven. _Allail_ or _divine_ they applied to their heroic men. To imitate such was the old Celtic religion as it was the primitive religion of most other peoples.