When some of the ballads are described as _Ossianic_ it is not to be understood that they were composed at the time that Ossian is supposed to have lived, but that the theme is Ossianic. Of this class is a eulogistic poem on Finn in the Book of the Dean of Lismore. Although written nearly 400 years ago it has yet a modern ring about it as compared with many of the other ballads. The earlier versions of these Ossianic ballads were composed probably in Pagan times, but as the Pagan reciters of them were dying off, the minstrels nominally Christian would take their place, and adapt the old ballads to the new state of things. The elder productions would be undergoing continual transformations in the hands of every new class of reciters. While the theme is the same, sometimes the versions are so different that no single verse in the one can be found in the other. It is in this manner that their chronology becomes a puzzle. Anachronisms abound. Ossian, who flourished upwards of two hundred years before, is introduced by the Christian and post-Ossianic reciters as holding converse with St. Patrick. “Actor hujus Ossane M’Finn;” or _The Author of this is Ossian, the Son of Finn_, is prefixed to the poem of which I am now to give a translation. In the course of the ages, Ossian has had to accept the paternity of many productions; but people took this as a matter of course until the appearance of the celebrated works of James Macpherson 250 years after Sir James Macgregor prefixed Ossian’s name to this poem. The poetry of this piece is not of a very high order, but is interesting as giving the popular conceptions regarding Finn 400 years ago. It was probably composed by an ecclesiastic, the number of which class at the time in the Highlands was considerable. It begins thus:— For twice three days and one great Finn I did not see; And ne’er before a week such sorrow brought to me. The son of Teigi’s daughter, king of deeds and might, My teacher and my strength, my guidance and my light. Both poet he and chief, a king my love commands; Finn, monarch of the Féinn, the lord of many lands. Leviathan at sea, a lion on the shore, Keen as the air-borne hawk, and wise in art and lore; He’s courteous and just, a ruler firm and true, Full polished in his ways, deceit he never knew. A lofty chief is he in song and in the fight, Resistless to the foe, to friends their fame and might. His skin is like the chalk, his cheek is like the rose, His eye transparent blue, his hair like gold down flows. The trust of all his men, with every charm of mind, Prepared for worthy deed, to women meek and kind. Great champion was he, loved son of field and flood, The brightness of the blades, the tree above each wood. Full generous was the king—good and rich wine he poured From the large green-hued bottle on the festive board.