“It is pleasant is the colour of the time; rough winter is gone; every plentiful wood is white; summer is a joyful peace.

“A flock of birds pitches in the meadow; there are sounds in the green fields, there is in them a clear rushing stream.

“There is a hot desire on you for the racing of horses; twisted holly makes a leash for the hound; a bright spear has been shot into the earth, and the flag-flower is golden under it.

“A weak lasting little bird is singing at the top of his voice; the lark is singing clear tidings; May without fault, of beautiful colours.

“I have another story for you; the ox is lowing, the winter is creeping in, the summer is gone.  High and cold the wind, low the sun, cries are about us; the sea is quarrelling.

“The ferns are reddened and their shape is hidden; the cry of the wild goose is heard; the cold has caught the wings of the birds; it is the time of ice-frost, hard, unhappy.”

And after that, Finn being but a young lad yet, made himself ready and went up at Samhain time to the gathering of the High King at Teamhair.  And it was the law at that gathering, no one to raise a quarrel or bring out any grudge against another through the whole of the time it lasted.  And the king and his chief men, and Goll, son of Morna, that was now Head of the Fianna, and Caoilte, son of Ronan, and Conan, son of Morna, of the sharp words, were sitting at a feast in the great house of the Middle Court; and the young lad came in and took his place among them, and none of them knew who he was.

The High King looked at him then, and the horn of meetings was brought to him, and he put it into the boy’s hand, and asked him who was he.

“I am Finn, son of Cumhal,” he said, “son of the man that used to be head over the Fianna, and king of Ireland; and I am come now to get your friendship, and to give you my service.”

“You are son of a friend, boy,” said the king, “and son of a man I trusted.”

Then Finn rose up and made his agreement of service and of faithfulness to the king; and the king took him by the hand and put him sitting beside his own son, and they gave themselves to drinking and to pleasure for a while.

Every year, now, at Samhain time, for nine years, there had come a man of the Tuatha de Danaan out of Sidhe Finnachaidh in the north, and had burned up Teamhair.  Aillen, son of Midhna, his name was, and it is the way he used to come, playing music of the Sidhe, and all the people that heard it would fall asleep.  And when they were all in their sleep, he would let a flame of fire out of his mouth, and would blow the flame till all Teamhair was burned.

The king rose up at the feast after a while, and his smooth horn in his hand, and it is what he said:  “If I could find among you, men of Ireland, any man that would keep Teamhair till the break of day to-morrow without being burned by Aillen, son of Midhna, I would give him whatever inheritance is right for him to have, whether it be much or little.”