And when it was ended, those that were left of them went looking for their dead.  And Caoilte stooped down over his seven brave sons, and every living man of the Fianna stooped over his own dear friends.  And it was a lasting grief to see all that were stretched in that place, but the Fianna would not have taken it to heart the way they did, but for being as they were, a beaten race.

And as to Oisin, he went looking for Osgar, and it is the way he found him, lying stretched, and resting on his left arm and his broken shield beside him, and his sword in his hand yet, and his blood about him on every side.  And he put out his hand to Oisin, and Oisin took it and gave out a very hard cry.  And Osgar said:  “It is glad I am to see you safe, my father.”  And Oisin had no answer to give him.  And just then Caoilte came where they were, and he looked at Osgar.  “What way are you now, my darling?” he said.  “The way you would like me to be,” said Osgar.

Then Caoilte searched the wound, and when he saw how the spear had torn its way through to the back, he cried out, and a cloud came over him and his strength failed him.  “O Osgar,” he said, “you are parted from the Fianna, and they themselves must be parted from battle from this out,” he said, “and they must pay their tribute to the King of Ireland.”

Then Caoilte and Oisin raised up Osgar on their shields and brought him to a smooth green hill till they would take his dress off.  And there was not a hands-breadth of his white body that was without a wound.

And when the rest of the Fianna saw what way Osgar was, there was not a man of them that keened his own son or his brother, but every one of them came keening Osgar.

And after a while, at noonday, they saw Finn coming towards them, and what was left of the Sun-banner raised on a spear-shaft.  All of them saluted Finn then, but he made no answer, and he came up to the hill where Osgar was.  And when Osgar saw him coming he saluted him, and he said:  “I have got my desire in death, Finn of the sharp arms.”  And Finn said:  “It is worse the way you were, my son, on the day of the battle at Beinn Edair when the wild geese could swim on your breast, and it was my hand that gave you healing.”  “There can no healing be done for me now for ever,” said Osgar, “since the King of Ireland put the spear of seven spells through my body.”  And Finn said:  “It is a pity it was not I myself fell in sunny scarce Gabhra, and you going east and west at the head of the Fianna.”  “And if it was yourself fell in the battle,” said Osgar, “you would not hear me keening after you; for no man ever knew any heart in me,” he said, “but a heart of twisted horn, and it covered with iron.  But the howling of the dogs beside me,” he said, “and the keening of the old righting men, and the crying of the women one after another, those are the things that are vexing me.”  And Finn said:  “Child of my child, calf of my calf, white and slender, it is a pity the way you are.  And my heart is starting like a deer,” he said, “and I am weak after you and after the Fianna of Ireland.  And misfortune has followed us,” he said; “and farewell now to battles and to a great name, and farewell to taking tributes; for every good thing I ever had is gone from me now,” he said.