As to the warriors of the Fenians, when they were assembled at the place where their fires had been lighted ... there every man stripped himself to his skin, tied his tunic round his waist, and then set to dressing his hair and cleansing his limbs, thus ridding himself of the sweat and soil of the day’s hunt. Then they began to supple their thews and muscles by gentle exercise, loosening them by friction, until they had relieved themselves of all sense of stiffness and fatigue. When they had finished doing this they sat down and ate their meal. That being over, they set about constructing their hunting-booths, and preparing their beds, and so put themselves in train for sleep. Of the following three materials did each man construct his bed—of the brushwood of the forest, of moss, and of fresh rushes. The brushwood was laid next the ground, over it was placed the moss, and lastly rushes were spread over all. It is these three materials that are designated in our old romances as the _Tri Cuilcedha nam Fiann_ (the three beddings of the Fenians). The literature of the Ossianic cycle is divided by O’Curry into four classes— 1. The first consists of poems in ancient MSS., ascribed to Fionn Mac Cumhail, to his sons Ossian and Fergus Finnbheoil, and his nephew Caoilte. There are seven in Fionn’s name, five in the Book of Leinster, and two in the Book of Lecain. Other two are attributed to Ossian in the Book of Leinster, of which one is a description of the battle of Gabhra, which took place in the year 283, and in which Oscar, the brave son of Ossian, and Cairbre Lifeachair, the monarch of Erin, fell by each other’s hands. The original of this latter has both alliteration and assonance, which we miss in the English version here given:— An Ogam on a stone, and a stone on a grave, Where once men trod; Erin’s prince on a white horse Was slain by a slender spear. Cairbre made a cruel cast, High on his horse good in the fray; Shortly before they both were lamed— He struck Oscar’s right arm off. Oscar made a mighty cast, Raging bold like a lion: Killed Cairbre, grandson[23] of Conn, Whom warriors bold obeyed. Youths, mighty and daring, They met their death in the strife; Not long before their combat, More heroes had fallen than lived. I myself was in the fight, Southward there of Gabor green; Twice fifty men I slew— With my own hand I slew them. The Ogam is here on the stone, Round which many ill-fated fell; Were Finn, in prowess great, alive Long in mind would be the Ogam.