The Cradle at the Edge of the Sea

Along the blackened causeway of the tide,
Where basalt pillars clasp the foam and spray,
And Fionn heard the Scottish giant stride
Roll like a storm across the iron-gray.

For Benandonner came with wrathful breath,
His thunder shook the cold and trembling shore;
And Fionn, staring in the face of death,
Felt all his mighty boasting mocked once more.

Then Oonagh smiled and barred the windswept door,
While embers breathed their dim and watchful red;
She drew great Fionn to a cradle on the floor
And laid the giant in a baby’s bed.

The Scot beheld the babe with a widening eye—
“If this be child, what giant stands nearby?”

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