Tir na Nog

Tir na Nog
The elements of this picture are a modern derivation from the story of Oisin (O’shawn), adopted son of Finn MacCumhal, and one of the ‘Fianna’ that inhabit the mythic landscape of pre-Christian Ireland.
The original Oisin (Little Fawn), while out hunting on a summer morning with Finn and his men, happens to meet a mysterious, richly dressed, young woman. Identifying herself as ‘Niam of the Golden Hair,’ she invites him to travel back with her to the enchanted land of Tir na Nog (Land of Eternal Youth) which lies somewhere beyond or below the western sea. Oisin accepts, and finds himself, after a long, strange ride through mist and darkness, in a place of golden light that the hand of decay and death never seems to touch. All who live within its borders remain eternally young. He experiences day after day of wonder and pleasure; But slowly homesickness begins to creep into his heart. He longs to see his friends in Ireland again. After persistent and repeated requests, Niam reluctantly gives him a powerful horse on which to make the journey home, under the one severe condition that his feet must never touch the ground.
Upon arrival he begins searching at once for Finn and The Fianna. They are nowhere to be found. In fact the whole land seems changed. Though it seemed only months in the faery country, some three hundred years have elapsed since Oisin’s departure. The warrior-hunters of the heroic age are long gone. After a time of fruitless wandering the bewildered rider stops to help a group of peasants clearing rocks from a field. Oisin, leaning from his horse, lends his considerable strength to their efforts. The boulder moves from its place, but with a sudden lurch, which sends him tumbling out of the saddle. At the moment he strikes the ground he is transformed into a white haired old scarecrow with barely the strength to stand by himself. The astonished peasants, afraid at first, take him to a holy man. He is Saint Patrick, who in that generation has brought a new view of the world to the western Celts. The two become friends, but Oisin is never entirely at home there with the world as it has become. How like ourselves as the years go by!
When we have been long on the journey we become much like Oisin, memory carriers of a world that no longer is. “The beauties we have loved,” slip back into autumnal dreams as though unaltered by the flow of many years. We ourselves slip into that final change which is both farewell and reunion.