Find’s large and imaginative personality is well drawn in one of the poems of his golden-tongued son Ossin, though much of the beauty of Ossin’s form is lost in the change of tongue: 

“Six thousand gallant men of war
We sought the rath o’er Badamar;
To the king’s palace home we bent
Our way.  His bidden guests we went. 
’Twas Clocar Fair,
And Find was there,
The Fians from the hills around
Had gathered to the race-course ground. 
From valley deep and wooded glen
Fair Munster sent its mighty men;
And Fiaca, Owen’s son, the king,
Was there the contest witnessing. 
’Twas gallant sport!  With what delight
Leaped thousand pulses at the sight. 
How all hearts bound
As to the ground
First are brought forth the Fian steeds,
Then those from Luimnea’s sunny meads. 
Three heats on Mac Mareda’s green
They run; and foremost still is seen
Dill Mac Decreca’s coal-black steed. 
At Crag-Lochgur he takes the lead.

“His is the day—­and, lo! the king
The coal-black steed soliciting
From Dill the Druid!—­’Take for it
A hundred beeves; for it is fit
The black horse should be mine to pay
Find for his deeds of many a day.’

     “Then spoke the Druid, answering
     His grandson, Fiaca the king: 
     ’Take my blessing; take the steed,
     For the hero’s fitting meed: 
     Give it for thy honor’s sake.’ 
     And to Find the King thus spake

     “’Hero, take the swift black steed,
     Of thy valor fitting meed;
     And my car, in battle-raid
     Gazed on by the foe with fear;
     And a seemly steed for thy charioteer. 
     Chieftain, be this good sword thine,
     Purchased with a hundred kine,
     In thine hand be it our aid.

     Take this spear, whose point the breath
     Of venomed words has armed with death,
     And the silver-orbed shield,
     Sunbeam of the battlefield! 
     And take with thee
     My grayhounds three,
     Slender and tall,
     Bright-spotted all,
     Take them with thee, chieftain bold,
     With their chainlets light
     Of the silver white,
     And their neck-rings of the tawny gold. 
     Slight not thou our offering,
     Son of Cumal, mighty king!”

     “Uprose Find our chieftain bold,
     Stood before the Fian ranks,
     To the king spoke gracious thanks,
     Took the gifts the monarch gave;
     Then each to each these champions brave
     Glorious sight to see and tell,
     Spoke their soldier-like farewell!

     “The way before us Find led then;
     We followed him, six thousand men,
     From out the Fair, six thousand brave,
     To Caicer’s house of Cloon-na-Dave.