Once, as they rested on a chase, a debate arose among the Fianna-Finn as to what was the finest music in the world.
"Tell us that," said Fionn, turning to Oisin.
"The cuckoo calling from the tree that is highest in the hedge," cried his merry son.
"A good sound," said Fionn. "And you, Oscar," he said, “what is to your mind the finest of music?"
"The top of music is the ring of the spear on the shield," cried the stout lad.
"It is a good sound," said Fionn.
And the other champions told their delight: the belling of a stag across the water, the baying of a tuneful pack heard in the distance. The song of the lark, the laugh of a gleeful girl, or the whisper of a moved one.
"They are good sounds, all," said Fionn.
"Tell us, chief," one ventured, "what do you think?"
"The music of what happens," said great Fionn, "that is the finest music in the world."
-from a book of Irish Fairy Tales
