“Three nights, three days, did all of us
     Keep joyous feast in Caicer’s house;
     Fifty rings of the yellow gold
     To Caicer Mac Caroll our chieftain told;
     As many cows and horses gave
     To Caicer Mac Caroll our chieftain brave. 
     Well did Find of Innisfail
     Pay the price of his food and ale.

     “Find rode o’er the Luacra, joyous man,
     Till he reached the strand at Barriman;
     At the lake where the foam on the billow’s top
     Leaps white, did Find and the Fians stop.

     “’Twas then that our chieftain rode and ran
     Along the strand of Barriman;
     Trying the speed
     Of his swift black steed,—­
     Who now but Find was a happy man?

     “Myself and Cailte at each side,
     In wantonness of youthful pride,
     Would ride with him where he might ride. 
     Fast and furious rode he,
     Urging his steed to far Tralee. 
     On from Tralee by Lerg duv-glass,
     And o’er Fraegmoy, o’er Finnass,
     O’er Moydeo, o’er Monaken,
     On to Shan-iber, o’er Shan-glen,
     Till the clear stream of Flesk we win,
     And reach the pillar of Crofinn;
     O’er Sru-Muny, o’er Moneket,
     And where the fisher spreads his net
     To snare the salmon of Lemain,
     And thence to where our coursers’ feet
     Wake the glad echoes of Loch Leane;
     And thus fled he,
     Nor slow were we;
     Through rough and smooth our course we strain.

     “Long and swift our stride,—­more fleet
     Than the deer of the mountain our coursers’ feet! 
     Away to Flesk by Carnwood dun;
     And past Mac Scalve’s Mangerton,
     Till Find reached Barnec Hill at last;
     There rested he, and then we passed
     Up the high hill before him, and: 
     ‘Is there no hunting hut at hand?’
     He thus addressed us; ’The daylight
     Is gone, and shelter for the night
     We lack.’  He scarce had ended, when
     Gazing adown the rocky glen,
     On the left hand, just opposite,
     He saw a house with its fire lit;
     ’That house till now I’ve never seen,
     Though many a time and oft I’ve been
     In this wild glen.  Come, look at it!’

     “Yes, there are things that our poor wit
     Knows little of,’ said Cailte; ’thus
     This may be some miraculous
     Hostel we see, whose generous blaze
     Thy hospitality repays,
     Large-handed son of Cumal!’—­So
     On to the house all three we go....”

Of their entry to the mysterious house, of the ogre and the witch they found there, of the horrors that gathered on all sides, when

     “From iron benches on the right
     Nine headless bodies rose to sight,
     And on the left, from grim repose,
     Nine heads that had no bodies rose,...”

Ossin likewise tells, and how, overcome, they fell at last into a deathlike trance and stupor, till the sunlight woke them lying on the heathery hillside, the house utterly vanished away.