"May your heart grow bolder like an iron-clad brigade"

I have a puppy.  His name is Finn McCool.  When I tell people his name they usually say "Thats a fun name" or "Why did you name your dog after a bar in Philly?"  So I thought I would take this opportunity to explain the origins of the name.

Finn McCool was an old hero from Celtic legend.  Finn was the son of another hero named Cumhail who was leader of  warrior clan called the Fianna.  Cumhail wished to marry a druidess named Muirne but her father Tadg forbade it.  Cumhail and his wife ran away together and Tadg made him an outlaw.  Cumhail's second in command Goll Mac Morna became the leader of the Fianna and hunted down and killed Cumhail.  The druidess Muirne was protected and gave birth to Fionn mac Cumhail (anglicized to Finn McCool). 

As a boy Finn grew up in the forest being trained to fight and hunt and eventually traveled the land in disguise to do many odd jobs for the kings of the land.  After seeing his strength the kings would recognize Finn as the son of the outlaw Cumhail and banish him to the next kingdom.  Eventually Finn was taken in by the leprechaun Finnecas and was taught music, art, and poetry.  Finnecas spent 7 years trying to catch a magical fish known as the "Salmon of Wisdom".  It was said that whoever caught and first tasted the flesh of the fish would gain all the knowledge of the universe.  When Finnecas finally caught the legendary salmon he ordered Finn to cook it for him.  Unfortunately when Finn was frying the fish he burnt his thumb on some of the boiling oil and instictively sucked his thumb to alleve the pain, accidentally swallowing a piece of the fish's meat.  Finn then gained all of the salmons wisdom and was able to call upon the knowledge at any time by sucking on his thumb. 

My favorite story of Finn was how he returned to the hall of his father and claimed his birthright, command of the Fianna.  Below is a poem by Marie Marshall telling the story of Finn at Tara Hall and how he defeated the evil elf king Alain.

How Finn McCool became King of Tara

Come children dear and sit by me,
Come young and old, come one and all.
I’ll take my harp upon my knee,
And sing of Finn, and Tara’s hall.

When harvest’s gold was gathered in,
And Tara’s mount was hung with lights,
Bold Goll McMorna and his kin
Would welcome the November nights
With songs, and mead, and revelry.
Such tales… such laughter on the air…
The flower of Celtic chivalry,
The Irish maidens tall and fair,
The Embassies from Alba’s land,
And Ellan Vannin’s thanes and eorls
All were assembled; and at hand
See – Goll McMorna’s dancing girls!

Now, picture this: the midnight bell
Had struck, half-heard amongst the throng,
The long, bright summer’s final knell,
When Goll McMorna called, “A song!
A song to gladden every soul –
I’ll pledge a quart of usquebaugh
To him who, here on Tara’s knoll…”
A gentle knock came at the door
And Goll’s oration died away
For, standing at the threshold there
Appeared a man as fair as day,
Tall as a birch, and dark of hair.

“My name is Allan of the Harp,”
Declared the man of handsome face,
“From Donegal. By glen and scarp,
Long have I sought McMorna’s race.
In honour’s name a boon I crave –
My song to sing, my harp to play,
A tribute to such warriors brave,
Who celebrate the harvest day!”
McMorna cried, “I grant that boon!”
And Allan struck a note so sweet…
And there, beneath the harvest moon,
Each reveller stilled in his seat.

For Allan was an Elvish King
With magic power – an evil wight
Who hated, above anything
To see a mortal lord in might.
So he, with clear, enchanted notes
Called up a mist, like billows deep
Made up of sweetly-perfumed motes,
To lull the revellers to sleep,
As Allan laughed in wicked mirth –
Forgetfulness akin to death
From which there is no second birth –
And burned the hall with fiery breath!

For three and twenty years the hall
Of Tara’s King was razed and burned
On Harvest Eve. But none recall
Who from that eldritch sleep returned
The harping of the evil elf –
In mystery was Tara cloaked –
Until young Finn McCool himself
The right of rest and board invoked
One summer’s end, and joined their feast.
A modest boy of humble mien,
He sat the lowest, ate the least,
Observed the merrymaking scene.

At midnight sharp came Allan in
And shrouded all with slumber foul
Except the youthful paladin,
Who hid a spear beneath his cowl
And pressed the blade against his cheek.
Then Allan stalked around the room
And wrathfully began to speak.
“This is brave Goll McMorna’s doom,
That once a year shall Tara fall
And fire her rising towers destroy.
And thus I curse you, one and all!”
At which, up sprang the noble boy…

Young Finn McCool held fast his spear,
His blood shone crimson on its blade,
And Allan stood amazed, in fear -
No spell, no word, no move he made.
Too late he tried to draw his knife
As Finn charged with a battle cry.
The spear-blade robbed him of his life,
And Finn stooped down to watch him die.
McMorna’s kin then all awoke…
Astonished eyes took in the sight,
And Goll himself in wonder spoke,
“Is Tara saved, this Harvest Night?”

Brave Finn’s renown spread far and wide –
The bards declaimed, the clerks set down
His mighty deed of Samhain-tide,
And Goll gave up his royal crown!
McCool of Tara’s tales live still –
By firesides the shanachies
Recite them now. Each glen and hill
Resounds with songs and tales like these.
But friends, beware the traveller
With handsome face, with dagger sharp,
Who asks to please the reveller
With songs and music on the harp!Come children dear and sit by me,
Come young and old, come one and all.
I’ll take my harp upon my knee,
And sing of Finn, and Tara’s hall.

Well there you have it.  Thats the story of Finn McCool and why I wanted to name my pup after him.  I hope you enjoyed it.

Punk