3. The third class of this literature consists of miscellaneous poems attributed chiefly to Ossian, with a few also to his brother poets, and a large number without any ascription of authorship. They are found mostly in paper MSS. of the last 250 years, and are generally transcripts from older books. In whole or in part they often take the form of dialogues between Patrick and Ossian. Apparently following the idea suggested by the “Colloquy of the Ancients,” the Gaelic dreamers have instituted talks and debates between these representatives of Paganism and Christianity. Such dialogues are to be found in earlier MSS., like those of the Book of Lismore and the Book of the Dean of Lismore, but more frequently in later ones. Besides dealing with the exploits of the Feinn, they somewhat humorously accentuate the antagonism between the pagan and ecclesiastical ideals. Specimens of the more famous of these may be seen in the chapter dealing with the influence of the Church on Celtic literature. Of the other poems of this class, the best known is perhaps that entitled “Cath-Chnuic-an-Air,” or, more shortly, “Cnoc-an-Air.” In addition to giving an account of the battle, it describes the treasures of the Feinn hidden under Loch Lenè (Killarney). The delightful “Ossian and Evir-Alin” may also be noted here. Pattison thought it possibly one of the oldest of all the Ossianic fragments, but he was well aware that it is not easy to determine its age. These verses from his English rendering suggest its peculiar charm:— We came to the dark Lake of Lego; There a noble chief came to meet And conduct us with honour to Branno— With honour and welcomings sweet. · · · · · Branno inquired, “What is your purpose? What would you have of me?” And Cailta said, “We seek thy daughter, Her would we have of thee.” · · · · · “So high the place, O Ossian, Do men’s tongues to thee assign, If I twelve daughters had,” said Branno, “The best of them should be thine.” Then they opened the choice and spare chamber, That was shielded with down from the cold; The posts of the door were of polished bone, And the leaves were of good yellow gold. Soon as generous Evir-Alin Saw Ossian Fingal’s son, The love of her youth, by the hero By me, young maid, was won. Then we left the dark Lake of Lego And homeward took our way; But Cormac, fierce Cormac, waylaid us Intent on the furious fray. Ossian and Cormac fight for the lady. The personal combat is described, and the victorious Ossian continues—