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16 FINGAL.
' Ye sons of war ! say, shall we bravely tight,
' Or yield green Innis-fair to Lochlin's might?
' Oh, Connal ! breaker of the shields ! declare,
* Thou first of men ! shall we th' invader dare ?
' Oft hast thou fought with Lochlin' on the plain,
' Wilt thou not lift thy Father's spear again ?' —
In accents mild, with sober prudence fraught,
Replied the warrior, by experience taught.
' Keen is my spear, Cuchullin ; keen and bright,
* And the dread battle is its chief delight,
' There, 'midst the blood of thousand warriors slain,
' It streams with gore, and glories in the stain,
' But though for war, thus ready is my hand,
' Yet says my heart, give peace to Erin's* land. —
' Behold, thou first in Cormac's war, the fleet,
' Behold the hostile force we have to meet.
• Vide Note 6. * Vide Note 7-

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