“What moved thee, thou cruel man, From the kingdom of Lochlin’s shore? Unless thou hast come our heroes To multiply more and more.” “I vow by thy hand, mild Fergus, Though brave be the Féinn of thy pride; We’ll make no terms with Finn without Bran, And his wife we will take from his side.” “Ere Bran thou shalt get our heroes Will try all thy strength in the strife, And Finn thou must meet in fierce combat Ere thou canst take captive his wife.” Since the days of Eve and Helen women have been the cause of much evil and strife; and many of the sore troubles of the Féinn arose from the bewitching charms which their Gaelic maidens and mothers possessed. The chief King of the Lochlins came to the shore of Albin with “ten thousand barks”—the Northmen’s galleys must have been very numerous in those times, our British navy of the present day would be small in comparison—determined to possess himself of the dog and wife of Finn, the Caledonian monarch. In these days this might seem a small _casus belli_ indeed; but it must be remembered that the dog Bran was a most remarkable one; the posthumous poetic honours that have been paid to this canine worthy have far exceeded those that Byron has given his favourite. As to the Caledonian Queen, the elopement of Graine with Diarmad must not be forgotten; indeed, it may help to explain the formidable descent of Magnus on the shores of Albin. To put chivalrous heroes under _geasan_ was then a favourite pastime among Gaelic ladies. And, being the weaker sex, it was well that they should be invested with enchanting or supernatural power that would somehow afford them protection in the midst of the turbulent, ruthless forces by which they were surrounded in those days. The battle and its results are described in thirty verses more. The Norse invaders were worsted; Finn and Magnus met in single combat; “stones and the heavy earth were wakening under the soles of their feet.” At last the unfortunate Magnus was overcome. Though unbecoming a king, he was bound hands and feet; but ultimately he receives kind and chivalrous treatment from Finn; and he repents of his conduct towards him, to whose mercy he said he would trust when he heard the bald Conan—who was “ever drinking”—express a wish to be allowed to sever his head from his body. The author—the ballad is put into the mouth of Ossian of course—concludes with the declaration that he and his father and Gaul performed the greatest feats that day, though they are now “without strength,” compelled to listen to psalm-singing clerics.