C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

From ‘The Wanderings of Oisin’

“O PLEASANT maiden,” answered Finn,

“We think on Oscar’s pencilled urn,

And on the heroes lying slain

On Garva’s raven-covered plain:

But where are your noble kith and kin

And into what country do you ride?”

“My father and mother are

Ængus and Edain, and my name

Is Niamh, and my land where tide

And sleep drown sun and moon and star.”

“What dreams come with you that you come

To this dim shore on foam-wet feet?

Did your companions wander away

From where the birds of Ængus wing?”

She said with laughter tender and sweet:

“I have not yet, war-weary king,

Been spoken of with any one.

For love of Oisin foam-wet feet

Have borne me where the tempests blind

Your mortal shores till time is done.”