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The Song of Fionn.

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May-day, delightful time! How beautiful the colour!

The blackbirds sing their full lay. Would that Læg were here!

The cuckoos sing in constant strains. How welcome is the noble

Brilliance of the seasons ever! On the margin of the branching woods

The summer swallows skim the stream: the swift horses seek the pool:

The heather spreads out her long hair: the weak fair bog-down grows.

Sudden consternation attacks the signs; the planets, in their courses running, exert an influence:

The sea is lulled to rest, flowers cover the earth.

Lyra Celtica: An Anthology of Representative Celtic Poetry

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