Glenshee the vale that close beside me lies Where sweetest sounds are heard of deer and elk, And where the Feinn did oft pursue the chase Following their hounds along the lengthening vale. Below the great Ben Gulbin’s grassy height, Of fairest knolls that lie beneath the sun The valley winds. It’s streams did oft run red, After a hunt by Finn and by the Feinn. Listen now while I detail the loss Of one a hero in this gentle band; ’Tis of Ben Gulbin and of generous Finn And Mac O’Duine, in truth a piteous tale. A mournful hunt indeed it was for Finn When Mac O’Duine, he of the ruddiest hue, Up to Ben Gulbin went, resolved to hunt The boar, whom arms had never yet subdued. Though Mac O’Duine of brightest burnished arms, Did bravely slay the fierce, and furious boar, Yet Finn’s deceit did him induce to yield, And this it was that did his grievous hurt. Who among men was so belov’d as he? Brave Mac O’Duine, beloved of the schools; Women all mourn this sad and piteous tale Of him who firmly grasped the murderous spear. Then bravely did the hero of the Feinn Rouse from his cover in the mountain side The great old boar, him so well known in Shee, The greatest in the wild boar’s haunt e’er seen. Finn sat him down, the man of ruddiest hue, Beneath Ben Gulbin’s soft and grassy side; For swift the boar now coursed along the heath; Great was the ill came of that dreadful hunt. ’Twas when he heard the Feinn’s loud ringing shout, And saw approach the glittering of their arms, The monster wakened from his heavy sleep And stately moved before them down the vale. First, to distance them he makes attempt The great old boar, his bristles stiff on end, These bristles sharper than a pointed spear, Their point more piercing than the quiver’s shaft. Then Mac O’Duine, with arms well pointed too, Answers the horrid beast with ready hand; Away from his side then rushed the heavy spear, Hard following on the course the boar pursued. The javelin’s shaft fell shivered into three, The shaft recoiling from the boar’s tough hide. The spear hurl’d by his warm red-fingered hand, Ne’er penetrated the body of the boar. Then from its sheath he drew his thin-leav’d sword, Of all the arms most crowned with victory. Mac O’Duine did then the monster kill While he himself escaped without a wound. Then on Finn of the Feinn did sadness fall, And on the mountain side he sat him down; It grieved his soul that generous Mac O’Duine Should have escaped unwounded by the boar. For long he sat, and never spake a word, Then thus he spake, although’t be sad to tell; “Measure, Diarmad, the boar down from the snout,