The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Táin This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: The Táin Author: Mary Ann Hutton Illustrator: John Patrick Campbell Release date: January 9, 2026 [eBook #77663] Language: English Original publication: Dublin: Talbot Press, 1924 Credits: Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TÁIN *** This volume has been presented by the author Mrs. Mary A. Hutton, D. Litt. 1948. [Illustration: “FERGUS GOES TO MEET CUCULLIN.” _Frontispiece._] THE TÁIN Mary A Hutton illustrated by SEAĠAN mac CAṪṀAOIL PREFACE The following poem, on which I have spent the careful and ardent labour of the past ten years, is an attempt to tell the whole story of the Táin in a complete and artistic form. The great tale of the Táin Bó Cúalnge has come down to us in two widely differing recensions. Both of these are in prose with poetry interspersed. One of these recensions (L.L.) is found in the Book of Leinster, a manuscript dating from the middle of the twelfth century. The other recension (L.U.) is found partly in the _Leabhar na h-Uidhri_, a manuscript written by a scholar who died in Clonmacnoise in 1106, and who—we are told—“wrote and shaped this book from various books”; and part of the same recension is found in the Yellow Book of Lecan, a manuscript which, although later, contains some very archaic material. For a comparison of these two recensions, and for a consideration of the various and very interesting critical problems to which they give rise, I must refer my readers to the delightful _Einleitung und Vorrede_ which Dr. Windisch has given us in his edition of the Book of Leinster text of the Táin: to No. 5 of Prof. Zimmer’s _Celtische Studien_; and to Miss Faraday’s short introduction to her translation of the texts of the L.U. recension. It suffices for me to say here that, while L.L. is the more literary, and L.U. the more scholarly, of the two versions, from the purely artistic point of view both of them are unsatisfactory and incomplete. My general method of working has been this. As a rule, but not invariably, I have taken the L.L. recension as my basis. Having, as I have dared to believe, grasped the essential human facts of the story, I began by some re-arrangement of the material. Then I omitted all material that was either irrelevant to my conception or tedious in itself; and, finally, I completed the narrative by working into its texture a rather large amount of matter from other related sources. An enumeration of the more important of these sources will be found in Appendix D. To give all my lesser sources would not be possible; for the same principles of re-arrangement, and selection, and introduction of new material have been carried out, not only in the broad masses, but even in the smallest portions, each part being considered in relation to the whole. In the main I have tried to work much as I imagine some scholarly Irish shanachie of a thousand years ago might have worked, if he had had the same object in view. And, in so far as the resources of the English language will allow, I have tried to preserve the Gaelic spirit, and to present a poem from which the modern spirit is as completely absent as would necessarily have been the case with my supposed old shanachie. In so far as I have succeeded, my readers will find themselves really transported into our old Irish epic world. With regard to the vexed question of the anglicisation of the names, a word of explanation must be offered. The movement of the verse is sometimes intended to be very rapid. Nothing would more surely impede this movement than a doubt existing in the mind of the reader as to how the frequently recurring names are to be pronounced. It will not do for him to halt till he ascertains the pronunciation from an appendix. Therefore, in the verse, names are always spelt in such a way as to suggest their pronunciation; and in the various appendices I have given their most usual Middle-Irish spelling. For example, “Faerdeeah” is so spelt in order to show at a glance that there is a strongly accented ee sound in the second syllable—a bit of knowledge which is essential to the right reading of the verse. In Appendix C the reader may learn, if he wishes, that in Middle Irish this name is spelt in two words: _Fer Diad_. In anglicising Old Gaelic names some writers will prefer to adopt the earliest, presumably unaspirated forms; others will prefer the modern aspirated forms. In some cases I have adopted the one, and in some the other; and I have had practically no rule in the matter except the pleasing of my own ear in relation to the verse. Where there happens to be a thoroughly established modern form, such as “Conor,” I have generally adopted it. In the case of some other names such as “Findabair,” where the old unaspirated spelling gives a beautiful sequence of sounds, I have left them to be pronounced as they are spelt. In modern Irish we should call “Findabair,” “Finn´-oor.” All the place-names have been anglicised as frankly as the personal names, the important point in all cases being to suggest a definite and not too difficult pronunciation. It matters little that some one else might have suggested a different pronunciation. It will be remembered that St. Bernard of Clairvaux, in writing the Life of our own St. Malachy, said in relation to a certain miracle which Malachy performed:—“This occurred at a place the name of which we do not mention, for its pronunciation is too barbarous.” I could not wish that my non-Gaelic readers should have to echo these words of St. Bernard in the midst of a passage of my verse. The word _Táin_ alone I have not anglicised. It should be pronounced approximately _Tahn_. In Appendix A brief notes will be found on all the Irish terms used. Sometimes I have used these untranslated forms simply because they are beautiful in themselves, and so bring an element of beauty into the verse. Sometimes I have used them because their meaning is not certain enough to make it wise to venture on an English equivalent; and sometimes because the nearest English equivalent would suggest an entirely wrong set of mental associations. In Appendix B I have given an alphabetical list of all the place-names introduced, with notes on all those which have been identified, or towards the identification of which I have been able to make suggestions. There are about 250 of these names. To us who are Irish and who live in the old country, it is a source of intense pleasure to be able to associate our heroes and their heroic deeds with certain definite places, and to think of them when there. I have spared no pains in the endeavour to identify these place-names; and various suggestions of my own will be found scattered amongst the notes. But many places I have failed to identify at all. In Appendix C I give an alphabetical list of the names of persons which occur in the narrative. These first three divisions of the Appendix, though arranged in alphabetical order, are not indices. They are meant only for reference. In every case the usual Middle-Irish spelling of the word, or else the spelling in a more modern text which I have happened to use, is given in square brackets. A word, perhaps, must be said about the verse. It has certain characteristics of its own, which have arisen naturally and almost unconsciously out of my long and close study of our early Irish literature. Those of my readers who are interested in the technique of verse will notice these characteristics for themselves. There is, perhaps, only one point in this connexion which I need mention, and that is the frequency with which I allow two very short syllables, such as “of his,” “in her,” to scan as one syllable. This is done with a freedom which far exceeds the practice of most writers of English blank verse. In this matter I have had no rule but the pleasing of my own ear. To conclude, let me express my hope, and, indeed, my belief, that before long there will be amongst us many able writers who will endeavour to re-create for us the ancient and glorious literature of our country, not in English, but in the language of the Gael. M. A. H. _Belfast, October, 1907._ CONTENTS PAGE The Finding of the Táin 3 THE TÁIN Book I 11 Book II 41 Book III 81 Book IV 101 Book V 127 Book VI 163 Book VII 187 Book VIII 211 Book IX 239 Book X 259 Book XI 293 Book XII 323 Book XIII 357 Book XIV 383 Book XV 411 The Writing of the Táin 447 APPENDIX A: Irish Terms used in the Verse 453 APPENDIX B: The Place-names occurring in the Verse 460 APPENDIX C: Names of Persons, Tribes, and Animals occurring in the Verse 479 APPENDIX D: The Principal Sources from which the Narrative has been drawn 487 APPENDIX E: Notes on Books VI and VII 491 Abbreviations used in the Appendices 494 THE FINDING OF THE TÁIN THE FINDING OF THE TÁIN. Shen´-cawn, the agéd poet, asked the poets Of Erin (for Mar-vawn´, the Swineherd-Saint, Had laid that task on him) whether a poet Amidst them could relate the Táin Bo Cooley Unbroken from its opening; and no poet Amidst them could relate the Táin Bo Cooley Except in broken fragments. And the book, Wherein ’twas written, had been reft away And lost in Latin lands. And Shen´-cawn then (Because Mar-vawn´ had laid that task on him) Said to his band of three times fifty poets, Both to the Ollavs and the humblest learners, “We must go forth throughout the lands of Erin, And must not tarry two nights in one stead Till we get knowledge of the Táin.” Whereon The poets travelled through the lands of Erin, And searched from west to east and north to south; But they obtained no knowledge of the Táin Except in broken fragments; and they all Were weary, gloomy, downcast, and in sorrow. They came to Leinster, then, to Connra Cae, The bounteous one, to whom they said, “O King, Give us a boat to put us o’er the waves To Alba, that we there may seek some poet Who knows the Táin.” A ship was cleared for them And filled; and over the white-blossomed sea Northward they fared, and passed the crags of Manann, And came to Alba; and a year they searched From south to north and west to east through Alba, But got no knowledge of the Táin. Then Shen´-cawn In trouble said, “Return we now to Erin.” And o’er the proud-voiced ocean they returned; And put their prows on shore against Ath Cleea; And they were weary, downcast, and in sorrow. Then they beheld Neev Caillin, who to Shen´-cawn Was mother’s son: and he bestowed on Shen´-cawn Three kisses, and asked tidings, and they told him They yet had got no knowledge of the Táin. Then Caillin said: “I will now go with you To Connaught to Mar-vawn´; for he alone, Who laid this task on Shen´-cawn, can reveal Knowledge by help of which ye may obtain The Táin Bo Cooley whole.” And so the poets Went to Mar-vawn´ in Connaught; and Mar-vawn´, Chief-prophet of the Heaven and the Earth, Gave kisses to Neev Caillin and to Shen´-cawn, And welcomed the thrice fifty weary poets, And said, “O Ollavs, there is not in Erin, Amongst the living or amongst the dead, One who can tell the Táin Bo Cooley wholly With all its deeds and feats—save only Fergus The son of Roy. Ye must send messengers To the chief saints amidst the saints of Erin, Bidding them come, and, by the grave of Fergus, Fast to the Deity three days and nights, That He may send them Fergus to relate The Táin Bo Cooley wholly.” Then Neev Caillin Went forth; and he besought the saints of Erin, And brought them; and they feasted for one night; And on the morrow went with only Shen´-cawn By desert ways to Aenloch on Moy Wee, And found the flag-stone o’er the lying-place And grave of that great Fergus; and they prayed; And they were pleading and were fasting there That that great Fergus might be sent to them. These were the saints who visited that grave. Neev Columkillé, who, for splendid radiance Of noble birth, was as a moon in the air, Having a hue of gold on it, and shining Over Iona and the north-east sea. Neev Kieran son of Faylim, who, for radiance Of holy mercy, was as a moon in the air, Having a hue of gold on it, and shining O’er the wide Shannon and the heart of Erin. Neev Brendan, who, that he might find a land, Hidden, delightful, very far from men, Wherein to love the Lord, had voyaged far O’er the intolerable sea, and seen The gate of Hell,—and who once more should voyage For seven years, and at last find a land Hidden, delightful, lofty, lovable, And there abide in love of Christ the Lord. Neev Kieran of green Sayer, who was old, Weighted with years; for he was the first saint E’er born in Erin, and his earliest monks Had been a fox and brock and wolf and doe, Who humbled themselves gently and were righteous, And dwelt with him within vast desert woods. Neev Findian of Clonard, the pious one And scholar, in whose school three thousand saints Had studied wisdom, ere they wandered forth To build their cells and churches through vast Erin. Neev Findian of Movilla, who was bishop And sage in Ulster, and a shining star. Neev Caillin, who had brought these saints together. And they were gathered in that desert place Round the flat flag above the grave of Fergus. Then Shen´-cawn sang a poem to the gravestone, As though he sang to Fergus. “Rise,” he said, “For these have supplicated Jesus Christ That Fergus may appear to us and tell That history, the wondrous Táin Bo Cooley, With its beginning and its deeds and end, Which were enacted in old far-back days, Before the Tal-kend brought the Faith to Erin.” With that, a mighty mist and fog grew round Those holy men and Shen´-cawn, who were there; So that if any man had sought to find them, He had not found them through the mist. And Fergus Came from the grave where five times five score years He had been hidden. And a beautiful And rich appearance was upon that warrior. Brown hair was on him; and a hooded layna With red inweaving of red gold. A bratt Of bright grass-green was round him; and he wore A golden-hilted sword, and round-toed shoes Wrought all of bronze. And when that warrior, Fergus, Perceived the holy men of Erin nigh him, It was his wish to stand, and standing, tell The Táin he had to tell. Howbeit those saints Would not hear aught from him till courteously They gave him seat; and, seated so amidst them, The while they fasted for three days and nights, Folded by mist, that warrior from the grave Taught them this History, the Táin Bo Cooley, With its beginning and its deeds and end, E’en as it had been acted in old days, Before Neev Patrick brought the Faith to Erin. BOOK I BOOK I One eve it chanced to Al-yill and to Maev, —The while the beautiful, full-blazing sun Sank ’mid the bright cloud-rafters of the sky,— That they were standing on their green-grassed mound Of high Rath Croohan on Moy Wee; and thence, They, gazing outward from themselves athwart The pleasant, well-cleared land with plains and ridges, Beheld that it was full of groves with fruit, And lands with corn, and greens with flocks and herds, And lakes with fowl, and streams with fish and otters; And full of folk with growth and height and health And gladsomeness and kindly, pleasant greeting; And full of peace and rule. And while they gazed, The very golden, fiery-blazing sun Went to his own deep place below the world, And fresh, cool, dewy airs o’erswept Moy Wee. Then that most royal pair went to their sleeping In their own rath and their own royal house; And while their heads were on their kingly pillow, There rose this talk betwixt them. Al-yill said: “’Tis a true word, O woman, it is good To be the wife of a strong man!” Maev said: “’Tis a true word; but wherefore dost thou cite it?” “For this cause,” answered Al-yill. “Thou art better To-day in wealth and riches, peace and rule, Than on the day whereon I came and took thee.” “Nay, I was well in power, strength, and riches, And wealth and rule and peace before that day,” Maev answered. “Of thy being well,” said Al-yill, “We never heard or knew; but heard instead That thou wast busied with thy woman’s work, The while the foemen of thy neighbouring regions Were violently bearing off from thee Great preys and plunders and vast driven spoils.” This was the answer which Maev made to him Before sleep came upon them there that night: “Not so was I! My father, Yohee Fayla The son of Find the son of Findoman, Held the high-sovereignty of all wide Erin; And he had six choice daughters, Daerbra, namely, Ethna and Ella, Clothra, Moogawn, Maev. But, of those six, I, Maev, was most distinguished, Most noble. In bestowing of good gifts, And costly things and things of price and treasure, I was the noblest of them. In hard battle, And fighting and hard vigorous battle-combat, I was the strongest of them. And my father For that good cause gave me a goodly household, Which was much spoken of; so that with me There were full fifteen hundred kingly warriors Of sons of exiles out of extern lands, And fifteen hundreds of the sons of noble Dwellers amidst ourselves. And for that cause He also put me into sovereignty O’er Croohan and a Third ’midst the Three Thirds Of Connaught; and thereafter ‘Maev of Croohan’ Became my queenly name and designation. And here in Croohan then I ruled in strength And peace and power, till ere long I wedded Tinny the son of Conrig Cass, a king Above the men of Domnann in the west; And we ruled jointly here in peace and power. And after Tinny fell, I ruled once more Alone in strength and power. Then men came From thy own brother who is king o’er Leinster, Namely, from Finn the son of Ross the Red, To woo me for him. And men came as well From Carpry Neea Faer, thy second brother, The son of Ross the Red and king o’er Tara, To woo me for him; and men came as well From Yohee Bec from Munster. And I went not; For I was she who asked a wondrous bride-price, Which, before me, no woman e’er had asked Of any man from ’midst the men of Erin. I asked a man devoid of avarice, Devoid of jealousy, devoid of fear. Had the man, who should gain me, avarice, It were not fit that we should be together; For I myself am good for giving gifts And costly things, and things of price and treasure; And on my man it would bring raillery And scorn and very fierce, disdainful words Were I of greater bounteousness than he; Though it in truth would bring no raillery Were we of equal bounteousness. Again, Had the man, who should gain me, any fear, It were not fit that we should be together; For I myself, by myself and alone, Break battles and engage in wars and combats; And on my man it would bring raillery Were I of greater liveliness than he, Though it indeed would bring no raillery Were we of equal liveliness. Again, Had the man, who should win me, jealousy, It were not fit that we should be together, Seeing that I was ne’er without a man Beneath the shield and shelter of another. Good, then, I found that man I sought for, namely, Thyself, O Al-yill son of Ross the Red, Of Leinster; for thou hadst no avarice: Thou hadst no jealousy: thou hadst no fear. And when I saw thee first, thou wast a youth Tender and fresh and young and free from blemish; And thou wast strong in war, yet not so strong That thou wouldst e’er be able to o’ercome me Or rule or govern me whilst we should live. So, because thou couldst give that wondrous bride-price, And for thy love and dearness, then, I took thee; And I bestowed on thee a bridal gift (The best of such as men bestow on women)— An outfit for twelve men in costly cloth, A chariot costing three times seven bondmaids, The breadth of thine own face in rich red gold. The weight of thine own left fore-arm in pure, White-bright findrinny. Whosoe’er he be Who causes thee disgrace and loss of honour, There is for thee no honour-price therein, More than there is for me; because, in truth, A man upon a woman’s maintenance, Is what thou art, O Al-yill!” Al-yill said: “Not so, indeed, am I. Though to my brothers, Namely, to Finn and Carpry Neea Faer (Seeing that they were older men than I), I left the sovereignty of kingly Tara And Leinster of delightful waters,—yet, In riches and in generous gift-bestowing, I was their equal. And I never heard Of any Fifth amidst the Fifths of Erin Being in woman-government, except This Fifth alone. Therefore I came here then. I took this kingship. An inheritance I deemed it from my mother, Mawta Murrisc, Who was the daughter of red-sworded Mahga, Of Connaught. And where might I find a queen Better than thee, thou being, as thou wert, The daughter of a famed high-king of Erin?” They bore that night away in rest and sleep. Next morning, ere the glorious sun rose up Above the deep recesses of the world, Above the eminences of that Fifth, Maev said to Al-yill: “There is yet a thing, Beyond those words I said at night, last night:— My precious things, my treasures and my wealth, Are more than thine are.” “That seems strange to us,” Said Al-yill; “for there is not anyone With whom there is a greater store of riches And very precious things and wealth and treasure Than there is with myself, and this I know.” Then, that it might be known with which of these There was in truth the greater store of treasure, There were first brought to them their humble treasures, Their wooden drinking-mugs, their two-eared vats, Their cruses and their vessels wrought from iron, Their washing-troughs and tubs. And secondly, There were brought forth to them their costly treasures, Their arm-rings, finger-rings, and golden clasps, And all their radiant work of skilful goldsmiths, And their apparel, purple, blue, and green, Yellow and black and striped and tawny-grey; And these were viewed and counted severally; And they were found alike in costliness On one side and the other. After that There were brought forth to them from leas and lawns And immense treeless lands and chequered greens Their immense flocks of sheep; and these were told, Numbered, and reckoned; and were found alike In costliness and weight and multitude. Over Maev’s sheep there was a wondrous ram, Distinguished, huge, costing a powerful bondmaid. An answering ram was o’er the ewes of Al-yill. Then, from green, grassy grazing-grounds and pinfolds, There were brought forth for them their flocks of mares, And their fine, joyous steeds; and these were told, Numbered and reckoned; and were found alike In costliness and size and multitude. Over Maev’s mares there was a special stallion, Distinguished, huge, costing a powerful bondmaid: O’er Al-yill’s mares there was an answering stallion. And there were brought for them from fruitful oak-woods, And solitudes and hollow, shelving glens, Their immense herds of swine; and these were told, Numbered, and reckoned, and were found alike In costliness and weight and multitude. With Maev there was a boar distinguished, special, And there was one with Al-yill. Last of all, There were brought forth for them from desert groves, And lone, unpeopled lands throughout that Fifth, Their droves and herds and flocks of wandering kine,— Their immense herds well-nigh innumerable; And these were numbered, and were found alike In costliness and multitude and greatness. O’er Al-yill’s herds there was a special bull, Distinguished, choice for size and hue and beauty. His four hooves and his head were very white: Three manes were on him, which were very white, Even like snow upon a noble mountain,— The rest of his vast, shapely form being red, As though he had been dyed with partar-red, As though he had been dipped in radiant blood, As though he had been rubbed with partar-dye. Upon his two white horns the men of Connaught Had set far-shining gold. Findbenna, “white-horned”— This was his name; and he had been calved, indeed, By a cow ’mid Maev’s own herds; and he had held it Not famous or illustrious to abide On woman’s maintenance; and he had gone, Till he was o’er the herds owned by the King. To Maev that hour, her being without a bull Of equal choiceness o’er her herds of kine, Was like her being without any tittle Of precious things or treasures through vast Erin. So that this was the hour wherein Mac Roth, The royal messenger and kingly envoy, Was called to Maev; and Maev commanded him To find out whether there was any place In any Fifth of the Five Fifths of Erin, Wherein there was a bull equal in choiceness Unto that bull above the herds of Al-yill. Mac Roth replied: “I know a place already Wherein there is a bull which is the best In Erin. It is in the Ulster Fifth; And in the beautiful, high-mountained cantred Of Cooley of blossomful, sweet-watered glens,— In the strong house of Dawra, son of Feeacna, In Cooley. He is called the Donn of Cooley, And this is his description:—He is young And very huge; and his high horns are gold-decked: He is brown-black, smooth-sided, dark-maned, red-eyed: He is strong-breasted, strong-necked, strong-browed, bull-like: He is wide-nostrilled, wide-eyed, curled, high-headed: He is impetuous, vehement, swift, courageous: He is proud, envious, scornful, strong-attacking: He has a lion’s rage, a sea-beast’s ardour: He has a plunderer’s blow, a wood-bear’s onset. He is the sire of immense herds and droves. He has great victories. ’Tis of his victories To shield one hundred warriors from the heat And cold, with his far-spreading shade and shadow. ’Tis of his victories that, every eve, Fifty young lads perform their childish games And childish sports on his long level back, Commodious and delightful—’tis no lie! ’Tis of his victories that Bananahs And Bocanahs and dread Folk of the Glen, Dare not approach to that same land and cantred In which he is. ’Tis of his victories, When he fares home to his own liss and shelter, At falling of the shade of night, at night, To utter forth his loud, deep, sweet cranndord Before him, so that to the men of Cooley,” Mac Roth said, “in the north or south or mid-part Of Cooley, it is their sufficiency Of music and of gladness, that cranndord Sung by their Donn of Cooley as he fares— With gait as of a king of lofty pride; With gait as of a rolling ocean-billow— To his own liss and his own green and shelter, At falling of the shade of night at night.” So spake Mac Roth, Maev’s famous messenger. A Druid and a man of might and knowledge Was standing near them there. “O Maev,” he said, “O daughter of great Yohee, I through knowledge Of druids and the arts of hidden knowledge, Can manifest the lives and history Of these two bulls, whereof ye are discoursing. They have had many shapes; for at the first Their names were Root and Riccny: and the two Were two choice swine-herds who belonged to Ōkill, King of the Shee in Connaught, and to Bove, King of the Shee in Munster; and, with venom As to their power to cast thin-withering spells Each on the other’s swine, those two contended. So the kings took their swine from them. And straightway, After their being swine-herds they were birds, Old ravens: at the Sheemound in Rath Croohan First they were heard; and, later, at the Sheemound On Feven; and the men from north and south Heard them with noise and loudness and hoarse clamours Contending; and their names were Etty and Inguen. And after being birds they were huge beasts, Who dwelt beneath the oceans and the waters. Their names were Bled and Blod. They dwelt one year Within the Suir to southward; and one year In the bright-streaming Shannon. In the Shannon Men saw them like two hills or mountain-peaks Contending with hard blows, till swords of fire Came from their mouths e’en to the clouds of heaven. Then, in the sight of all the hosts who watched them, They left that river, and became two warriors There on the shore before them; and their names Were Rinn and Faebur; and they fought with weapons A fight of no hereditary tameness Throughout the space of three days and three nights; Till they became two stags who fought; and then Two towering, haughty phantoms, who fought long In phantom-fight,—their exploits were not small,— So that men died for fear and dread at watching That phantom-fight; and while they were two phantoms Their names were Scaw and Skeeath. Next they rose, Rising into the heaven; and, ’midst the clouds, Became two dragons who sent wondrous showers Of heavy snow, each on the other’s country: In no man’s memory had such been seen;— Till with career of headlong speed they fell Out of the air, and went into the shapes Of little water-worms, with every colour Shining upon them; and one went to Cooley Of peaks and blossomful, sweet-watered glens, And went into Glass Crond, a Cooley river; And one came hither to kind, gladsome Connaught, And went to the spring-well of Oorawn Garad Nigh to us here. Once, when at Oorawn Garad, Thou didst, O Queen, raise up this second worm In thy bronze vessel at the well. Thou sawest The colours shining on it: and it told thee Of things that should befall thee. Their two names While they were worms were Crinniuc and Timmiuc. Now, Lastly, those swine-herds are these two huge bulls, Namely, Findbenna and the Donn of Cooley, Wondrous for forms and powers. O great Queen, It is in Destiny that these shall meet, And in night-lasting, man-appalling combat, Decide their long contention: yet I see not Which of the two shall in the end prevail.” The Druid ended. Maev addressed Mac Roth. “Go thou, Mac Roth,” said Maev, “go hence to Cooley, Go to the house of Dawra. Beg from him For me, one year’s loan of that special bull. At the year’s end the loan-price of the bull Shall reach him, fifty heifers, and the bull Himself in safety back. And take with thee Another proposition, O Mac Roth:— If, to the people of that territory And of that land, it seem an evil thing To give that wonderful distinctive jewel, Their Donn of Cooley,—say to Dawra, then, He shall himself come with the bull to Connaught; And I will give him from my smooth Moy Wee A measure equalling the land he has In mountainous Cooley there. And he shall have A chariot costing three times seven bondmaids; And, beyond all, my own especial friendship.” Mac Roth went forward on his way and journey. This was his number: nine. Across wide Erin To Cooley over unobstructed ways These travelled, that they soon might reach the house Of Dawra in the pleasant, high-peaked land. We leave Mac Roth upon that road and way. This was the day and this the point of time Wherein Maev’s spies and envoys out of Ulster, Who had been spying out the men of Ulster In Avvin Maha and in each chiefs doon And each king’s house throughout the lands of Ulster, Came with great urgency to Croohan. Then Maev went to her own quiet House-for-Converse, To hear their tales and tidings out of Ulster; And her one daughter, namely, Findabair, Went with her there. (And thus was Findabair: Of age to wed, white-browed and very radiant.) The envoys then with envoys’ reverence Accosted Maev, and told their words and tidings; And having told them, they withdrew. But that Which there they told to her, we tell not now: We tell that later. Maev with liveliness Spake to her daughter, Findabair, and said: “O child,” said Maev, “from what these say we know That this is now the time and the occasion For our unheard-of, long-prepared-for hosting Into the lands of Ulster; for we know From what these say that at this time no ill Is likely to befall us.” Findabair Said to her mother, even to Maev: “Dear mother, What were the reasons for this marvellous hatred Between thyself and Ulster?” Then Maev said: “Child, it is natural to hate proud Ulster. But I perceive that thou hast heard indeed That for myself there were great reasons.” Then, In that reposeful, quiet House-for-Converse In high Rath Croohan on Moy Wee, Maev spake These words to Findabair: “O child!” said Maev, “There were great reasons for me; and those reasons Thou now shalt know, being of age to know them. My father, Yohee Fayla, was called Fayla, ‘Righteous,’ because with constant righteousness He acted towards all people. In the battle Of Letteree in Corann, he had slain Wise Fahtna Fahee, great High-king of Erin, And had himself become High-king. We then To the High-king’s most royal seat of Tara Went with great joy; and I myself had then Fulfilled my sixteen years. But Yohee Fayla, (Because with ever-upright righteousness He acted towards all people), paid to Conor The son of Fahtna Fahee a great eric For the slain father. He bestowed on Conor The kingship of the high-proud Ulster Fifth In eric; and, O child, this was not all That eric: he allotted unto Conor Four of his daughters who were with himself In Tara; and those four, in fervent sorrow, Moogawn and Clothra, Ethna and I,—Maev, Were borne from Tara north to Avvin Maha To be of Conor’s women. Child, I thought My pride would ne’er recover of that hurt. E’en then it ne’er had seemed to me too much That I myself should not be deedless. E’en, I young, it had not seemed to me too much That I should hope to be myself the chiefest Of rulers in all Erin. And we dwelt In Avvin; and in this wise there was I— Hated and without honour, hating greatly, Dejected, in dark sadness; and toward Conor, I had timidity and horror. Then, After one year my pride arose in me; And, through high pride of mind, I rode from Avvin, Forsaking Conor; and I rode towards Tara. It was a shining and extreme clear night; And I was chased; but like the wind of spring, My chariot-steeds went south toward kingly Tara, And crossed the boundary and came to Tara, Where was my father the High-king of Erin. So, child, my being thus given unto Conor Without my will; and my sad days in Avvin; And, afterwards, my severance from Conor Without his will; were the first powerful causes And the first reasons for this eminent hatred Between myself and Ulster. It was then, When I had left stern-hearted Conor, so Escaping from that dreadful grief, that Yohee, My father, gave me that distinguished household, Which was much spoken of,—so that with me There were full fifteen hundred kingly warriors Of sons of exiles out of extern lands; And fifteen hundreds of the sons of noble Dwellers amidst ourselves. And it was then That Yohee put me into sovereignty O’er Croohan and a Third ’midst the Three Thirds Of Connaught, where thenceforth in quietness I did possess,—the power of Conor here No more being on me; and ere long I wedded Tinny the son of Conrig Cass, a king Above the men of Domnann; and two years Passed thus in quietness. But it was then, Namely, at ending of these two good years, That the great Feast of Tara was made ready By Yohee Fayla; and the Five Great Fifths Of Erin were around him there in Tara, Except myself and Tinny. Seeing this, The men of Erin asked just Yohee Fayla To bring me to that Feast, and Yohee sent Srebloo-a, his own woman-messenger, Hither to Croohan to invite me. Then, Upon the morrow, Tinny and myself Arrived together at that hero-seat, Tara, the meeting-place of kings and heroes. Amidst the vast assemblage I perceived, In his own Ulster place and seat of honour, Conor the son of Fahtna, King of Ulster, The hawk-like king; but at that Feast his power Was not upon me. Then, until the end Of fourteen days added on to a month, The racings of swift steeds and feats of riding Pertaining to that Feast were made, and then The men of Erin separated, each Going back to his own land and house and doon. O child,” said Maev, “Conor remained behind Each king and prince and chief who had been there, That he might watch and lurk for me. One morn, As I was riding to the Boyne for bathing, The dreaded king, with his own men around him, Delivered a well-calculated onfall, With fury and with virulence, with callings And mockery. He forced me to his will Against my will; and I was bound and placed In angry bondage. That was heard in Tara; And when ’twas heard, the household of the King Of Erin round about the King of Erin Came forth from Tara. Tinny son of Conrig Came forth from Tara. Then red battle broke Between those people upon either side. Harsh was the battle-thunder through the battle: Abundant were the streams of blood that flowed; And I, hurt, bowed, bound, desperate, heard and saw. Tinny the son of Conrig Cass, my husband, And joint partaker with me over Croohan, Fell there; and ere the eve the household troops Of Yohee Fayla were defeated wholly, And driven o’er the Boyne before the men Of Conor son of Fahtna. Then, indeed, I deemed my overthrow complete. I seemed Helpless of all relief. But my own men From Connaught, my right-valiant, lusty heroes, Coming amidst the gory, crowded battle, By strength of fighting brought me from that danger And from that venomous bondage. They, by strength Of fighting, over the wide Plain of Meath, Over the wide expanse, taking me safely, We crossed the Shannon of green-flowing streams, To Croohan, here, my doon and rightful dwelling. O child, this thing is truth without deceit,— I knew that my high pride of mind and spirit Would ne’er recover from this second hurt Until I should behold red-sworded Conor Pale in his death before me. And, O child, Untiring, throughout all my lifetime after, I was preparing that I might fulfil That which I wished for. I, in no long time, Ruled the Three Thirds of Connaught. Then I wedded Thy father, Al-yill son of Mawta Murrisc, Winning the friendship of the sons of Mahga In Connaught, and the friendship and alliance Of Leinster and the war-skilled Leinster-men. My many sons, thy brothers, I bestowed In fosterage with powerful Munster princes, Winning their friendship. Five times five years so Have been consumed since that great hurt and danger Which I have spoken of. My people now Are multiplied in numbers. I have gotten Great wealth and power and great battle-strength; And I have triumphed and thriven in well-nigh all My enterprises and my purposes, Till now, indeed, I am accounted chiefest Of rulers in all Erin, save alone In that high-proud, strength-guarded Ulster Fifth, Where Conor, lofty and illustrious, Rules with huge power:—yea, even he gathers tribute Out of the Islands of the Foreigners Beyond the Northern Sea. But now, O daughter, From what these envoys have averred, we know That this is now the time and the occasion For dealing woe to Ulster. It is well That we have so despatched Mac Roth to Cooley To beg this year’s loan of the Donn of Cooley For me. We know the bull will be refused. That will be cause to us for the great hosting, Which we have long prepared to trouble Ulster. Thereon a strange thing shall be seen in Ulster: We will destroy and spoil the men of Ulster: We will strike fear into them. In the end, If they shall rise and come and give us battle, It is my hope that Conor son of Fahtna, Of most stern valour, on that day may know The grievousness of death; and that with sureness His numbing death-mists may lay hold of him. So we, indeed, shall put the pride off Ulster; And I, thereafter, shall, indeed, be chiefest Of rulers through the Five Great Fifths of Erin. And for thyself, dear child, on this great hosting We shall perceive which are the great and true And lively warriors: and, when we return, Thou shalt be wedded to some noble warrior And kingly hero midst our battle-heroes.” This was the talk ’twixt Maev and Findabair In Maev’s own quiet, private House-for-Converse In high Rath Croohan, on Moy Wee in Connaught, Before the Táin. As for those messengers Which Maev had sent,—across wide, noble Erin To Cooley, over unobstructed ways They travelled till they reached the well-roofed house Of Dawra, son of Feeacna. Therein Mac Roth received a truly joyful welcome. (That was befitting, for Mac Roth indeed Was chief of all the messengers of Erin.) Dawra inquired what cause had brought on them That travel, and Mac Roth related all That friendly emulation and contention ’Twixt Maev and Al-yill. “And to ask,” he said, “For Maev one year’s loan of thy Donn of Cooley To rival that huge, beautiful Findbenna, Is that which I have come for. Thou shalt get Fifty fair heifers, and the bull himself In safety back. And, yet another thing: If, to the people of this territory And of this land, it seems an evil thing To give that wonderful, distinctive jewel, Their Donn of Cooley, come thou then thyself To Connaught, to Rath Croohan, with the bull; And Maev will give thee from her smooth Moy Wee A measure equalling the land thou hast In mountainous Cooley here; and thou shalt get A chariot costing three times seven bondmaids; And, beyond all, Maev’s own especial friendship.” That proposition gave much joy and gladness To Dawra son of Feeacna. He shook Till the seam-sewings of his down-filled bed Brake underneath him. “By our faith of conscience!” He said, “however bad, however good, This may appear unto the men of Ulster,— On this occasion this distinguished treasure, Namely, the Donn of Cooley, shall be taken To Maev and Al-yill, to the realm of Connaught!” And to Mac Roth it gave much joy and gladness To find that answer to his words and message. Then they were served. Green rushes and green reeds Were strown beneath them. Pleasing food was brought. A feast was poured for them. Anon they grew Loud-voiced, confused; and soon this colloquy Happened betwixt two of those messengers. “’Tis a true word,” said one, “the man of this house Is a great man!” “He is a great man, truly,” The second said. “Is there,” the first man asked, “’Midst all the men of Ulster any man Greater than this man is?” The second said, “Truly there is! Greater than this man is, Is Conor whose he is. Yet were the men Of Ulster all to rally to this man, It were to them no shame or loss of honour.” The first man said, “He shows to us great honour, When this thing (which to take by force from Ulster Would be a work for the Four Fifths of Erin) Namely, the Donn of Cooley, is thus given Freely to us nine messengers alone.” A third then came on them to join that talk; And this one was a woman. “What,” said she, “Is being talked of here betwixt you two?” They told their talk, and how the one had said, That Dawra truly showed to them great honour, Since that thing (which to take by force from Ulster Would be a work for the Four Fifths of Erin), Namely, the Donn of Cooley, was thus given To those nine messengers alone. She said: “Fain in this hour were I to see a burst Of blood and clotted gore out of that mouth Whereout that saying came! Because,” said she, “Were not the bull thus yielded willingly, He would be taken forcibly. The hosts Of Al-yill and of Maev, with skilful guidance From powerful Fergus son of Roy, would take him!” This was the time when the Distributor To Dawra came into that separate house Where these were feasted: and a man laden With drink was with him, and a man laden With food; and he had heard all that they said. And anger came on him; and he set down His food and drink before them; and he said not To them that they should take it; and he said not That they should leave it. He went after that Into that house where Dawra was himself, And said with haste: “Is it thyself who gavest That wondrous jewel to these messengers,— The Donn of Cooley?” “It is I, indeed,” Said Dawra. “In the place where he was given,” The man said, “there was neither king nor kingship! There was no strength or sway or government! They say the truth!” “What say they, then?” asked Dawra. “They say,” the man said, “that unless thou givest Him willingly, thou then ere long shalt give him Unwillingly, constrained by the great hosts Of Al-yill and of Maev, guided and led By Fergus son of Roy!” “I swear,” said Dawra, “By all the gods whom I adore, that that Which I bestow not on them willingly, They shall not make me yield unwillingly.” They slept till morn. Early upon the morrow The messengers arose; and they went straightway Into that house where Dawra slept himself, And said to him: “O Noble One, allow us Place-guidance that we thus may find the place Wherein thy Donn of Cooley is.” “Not so! In truth or deed,” Dawra replied to them; “But were it wont of mine to violate Travellers, messengers, or journeying folk, Who travel by these passes and these ways, Not one of you should journey hence alive.” “For what cause?” asked Mac Roth. “There is great cause,” Dawra replied. “Ye said unless the bull Should be delivered to you willingly, He should be seized on forcibly by hosts Of Maev’s and Al-yill’s, guided on their way By Fergus son of Roy.” Mac Roth responded, Deprecating, “Yet, O Noble One, Whate’er they may have said, these messengers, Made heady by thy viands and thy ale, It is not right so to take cognizance Or heed of it, or so to make of it Ground of reproach to Al-yill and to Maev.” These were the words that Dawra said to him:— “Yet, O Mac Roth, I will not give my bull On this occasion, if I have strength to help it.” Thus, with these words, those messengers returned. They traversed Erin, till they reached at length Rath Croohan on Moy Wee in Connaught. Then Maev asked of them their tidings, and Mac Roth Told her those tidings;—that they had not brought The bull from Dawra. “Through what cause?” asked Maev. Mac Roth related all. Maev said to him: “This is no cause for trouble, O Mac Roth; There is no need to trim these knots away. We knew the bull would be refused. And now He shall be taken by strength of mighty hosts, With guidance from our Fergus son of Roy. And we will not alone take their great bull: There is no ill we will not do to them. E’en though the dangerous, storm-troubled days Of winter now come near, we yet will go. We will lay waste, harry, and devastate All Ulster and all Crithny. We will take Their wives, their children, and their tender sons, Their steeds and flocks of mares, their troops of kine, Their herds of every sort of grazing kine. And we will not alone burn to the grass Their strongly-timbered houses, wide and fair; But their high, fortified green mounds, whereon Their houses are, we will so level down That all their glens and trenches will be filled After our track. And at the end of all The Donn of Cooley shall be brought to Croohan. Whoever shall arrive or not arrive In safety here after this powerful hosting, The Donn of Cooley shall arrive. I swear, By all the gods by whom my people swear, The Bull of Cooley then shall come to Croohan.” BOOK II BOOK II These were Maev’s words. Then messengers went forth To Maev’s own seven sons, the seven Mahn-yas, That each might come, each with his folk and cantred, To Croohan on Moy Wee. And messengers Went forth unto each king and under-king And prince and chief through the Four Fifths of Erin, That each might come with his own folk and cantred To join that hosting. It was on an eve, While all were waiting for those many hosts And bands and troops to come unto Rath Croohan, That Maev and Al-yill, with their kingly household, Were feasting in their royal house. And this Was the array of that most royal house:— It was round, vast, and built of powerful oak, Roofed o’er with shingles; and it held within it Seven concentric ranks of imdas, railed With bronze, and panelled with choice, rich red yew. And there were brought into that house that night The newest of each kind of pleasant food And oldest of each kind of pleasant drink; And when each man had eaten and had drunk His measure and his full sufficiency, Al-yill the son of Mawta Murrisc said Aloud:—“Let now some tale be told to us.” “What tale wouldst thou have told?” asked Findabair. “Let it,” said Al-yill, “be some tale from Ulster; For (since we soon shall go upon our hosting) To hear some tale or famous history Of those famed tribes and that famed warlike folk Toward whom we go, will indeed be to us A pastime, and will while away the eve.” “Let it,” said Maev, “be that most woful tale Of the Three Sons of Usna and their deaths; For ’tis a tale which men hear willingly.” “And who shall tell the tale?” asked Findabair. “Who,” answered Maev, “but agèd Lowercam, The woman-poet, satirist, and envoy, Who is in exile here in Croohan?”—Now This was the reason in Maev’s mind for choosing That tale. She deemed that Fergus son of Roy, Who was there with them in that house that night, Would be (when he should freshly hear this tale Of all the wrong which he had borne from Conor) So much the more ready and fresh and eager To help her with his kingly hero-valour On that great hosting to the lands of Ulster. Throughout that household then there was great silence; And Lowercam began her tale and told it. The men of Ulster once (she said) were drinking At nightfall on the floor of the house of Faylim, Conor’s own High-historian. And the wife Of Faylim was presiding o’er those hosts, Above them; and she served and dealt to them; And she was great with child. Horns brimmed with ale, Cause of loud mirth, passed round; and shares of food Passed round; and mixed inebriate shouts were heard. When each was faring to his sleeping-place Within that house, the wife of Faylim too Fared to her sleeping-place; and, as she fared Across the wide-floored house, the child within her Cried, so that everywhere inside that liss Its cry was heard. The men of Ulster rose, Each man against the other, when they heard The shrill, lone, terror-causing, grief-full cry. But Shenca, straight, the truly-prudent one, Rose up and called to them: “Stir not yourselves, Ye men; but let the woman come up hither, That thus the cause and presage of that cry May be made known to us.” They took the woman To truly-prudent Shenca, then,—that hero Whose words of eloquence are strong to calm The hosts of Ulster, and whose calming words Might still the war and tumult of the world. Whilst they were passing through the wide-floored house, Faylim, the woman’s husband, High-historian And Poet unto Conor, said to her: “What was that cry which we have heard ascending, O woman? By our ears the cry was heard. Great terror has seized hold of me. My heart Is wounded as by weapons.” Unto him Shenca, the truly-prudent one, said then: “Trouble the woman not; but let her now Be led to Cathbad, the good marvellous Druid; For ’tis with him that there is knowledge.” Then The woman moved towards Cathbad, and she said, Speaking to Cathbad, the renownéd Druid: “Let Cathbad, the good, lovable Druid, hear me; For not with me are the white words of knowledge Wherewith to answer Faylim; for the woman Knows not herself what stirs beneath her breast.” ’Twas then that Cathbad said: “O wife of Faylim, Beneath thy breast there cried a yellow-haired Bright maiden, with bright blue-green eyes, and cheeks Crimson like foxglove, and a faultless treasure Of teeth like autumn snow, and two curved lips Red like red rowan-fruit o’er shining snow. Beneath thy breast there cried a yellow-haired Bright maiden, with long shining waving hair. High heroes strongly will contend for her. Noble high-kings will deeply long for her. There will be woe throughout this Fifth of Conor’s. There cried beneath thy breast a yellow-haired Bright maiden, with red lips like fruit of rowan. High-queens shall envy them. High-queens shall envy Her excellent, unblemished, faultless form.” And Cathbad laid his hand against the woman, So that the child was troubled beneath his hand. “Yea, it is true,” he said, “it is a maiden, Indeed, who is troubled there. And Daerdra, ‘Trouble,’ Shall be her name: and there shall be much ill Because of her, through all this Fifth of Erin.” After that, then, the child was born; and Cathbad, When she was brought unto him, said to her: “O Daerdra, ‘Trouble,’ comely, of renown Most wonderful, ’tis in thy time of life, That woe and torture shall arrive for Ulster. There will be envy, there will be hate in Ulster; There will be wars, even after thy time of life, Through thee, indeed, O generous daughter of Faylim. It is through thee, and in thy time of life, That ears of men shall hear of a sad exile,— The exile of the three high Sons of Usna. It is through thee, and in thy time of life, That a dread deed shall be performed in Avvin, In violation of the words of Fergus. It is through thee, and in thy time of life, That ears of men shall hear of a great exile,— The exile of great Fergus from our Ulster. Thou shalt thyself perform a rough, dread deed, In anger towards the king of high-proud Ulster. Thy grave shall be in a lone, rock-high place. Thy history shall be renowned, O Daerdra.” “Let the maid-child be slain,” the warriors said. But Conor, the High-king of Ulster, looking Upon the child, straight loved it; and he said: “Not so, O warriors; since it is not well To war against things fated; for things fated May not by us be so avoided. Truly, Beautiful is the smiling of this child. Let her be brought to me at dawn to-morrow: She shall be reared obedient to myself; And she shall be the wife who shall be near me.” The chiefs were silent; for they dared not speak Against the words and verdict of the King. But Fergus son of Roy soon rose and spoke, And said: “O Conor, O High-king of Ulster, Thy judgment errs not. All things shall be done According to thy ruling and thy judgment.” And all was done even as Conor had said. The child was reared within a closed-up liss Nigh the high mound of splendid Avvin Maha; And none (said Lowercam) was e’er admitted Within that liss, except these four alone,— Namely, her gentle, careful foster-mother And foster-father, who there tended her; And Conor, the High-sovereign; and myself, Lowercam;—they dared not close me out, I being the skilled she-satirist. And Daerdra By Conor there was reared, until she was The maiden of most splendour which there was Throughout the expanse of Erin. And to Conor She was the treasure which he loved more strongly Than any treasure. And the time drew nigh When she should go to his high pillow. Then, One day upon white snow in one night fallen, The foster-father of the maid was skinning A cooking-calf to seethe for her; and Daerdra,— I being with her there,—perceived a raven Drink the calf’s blood upon the snow. ’Twas then She cried: “O Lowercam, how lovable To me that man would be on whom should be These three pure colours, namely, on his hair The black of this black raven; on his cheeks The red of this red blood, and on his body The white of this white snow.” Whereon I said: “O maiden, dignity and bliss be thine! In Conor’s own king’s household, very near To where thou art, that man is; and his name Is Neesha son of Usna.” And she said: “’Twill not be well with me until I see him.” At day-dawn on the morrow, while the sun Rose through the beautiful, lustrous clouds of dawning Neesha the son of Usna stood alone On the high mound of splendid Avvin Maha, Singing his rich andord. And, O ye men (Said Lowercam), sonorous and melodious Was the andord sung by the Sons of Usna, By Neesha and by Annly and Ardawn, The three high sons of Usna. Every cow And every beast, hearing that rich andord, Yielded a two-thirds increase of her milk; And to all folk who heard that melody It was their fill and their sufficiency Of harmony and calm and peacefulness. Moreover, men, high was the valour too Of those three sons. E’en had the Hosts of Ulster Been all around them in one place to slay them,— They three being back to back amidst those hosts,— The hosts would not have gained the battle o’er them, So good at warding-off and at defence Were those three valorous, dauntless hero-ones. And they were fleet as hounds are in the chase: They slew the fleet, wild deer by their own fleetness: Their leap was like the salmon’s.— And so Daerdra, Lying at dawn in her still lying-place, Heard that unrivalled one; and in her mind She knew that it was Neesha. Then she rose, Unseen by those who reared her. She passed out, Outside the liss, and climbed on the high mound Of Avvin Maha, and saw Neesha there. She passed as though she would pass unperceived. He knew her not. He said, as she went past: “Fair is that heifer who goes past us there.” “There must be heifers where there are no bulls,” She answered. That struck fear into him. Truly, He knew her then. “Maiden,” he said to her, “The Bull of all this Fifth, namely, the King, Will be for thee.” “I would have leave to choose Between you two,” she said, “and I would choose A young bull even like thee.” “Not so,” said he. He held in memory the words of Cathbad. “Is it refusing me thou sayest that?” She asked. “It is refusing thee indeed,” He answered her. With speed and vehemence And fervency she sprang at him and seized The two ears on his head. She said, “Two ears Of shame and of disgrace these ears will be Unless thou takest me!” “Arise from me, Remove from me, O woman,” Neesha said. “I will be thine,” she said; whereat from Neesha There rose his loud andord; and when the Ultonians Heard the andord, as thus it rose from him, They rose against each other,—each incited To mutual wounding, and to broils, and war. The Sons of Usna came to restrain their brother. “What ails thee,” said they, “that the men of Ulster Thus wound each other by thy fault?” He told What had been done to him. “Evil,” said they, “Will come of it; but thou shalt never be Beneath disgrace and taint and shame and scorn While we two live. We will depart with her Into some other land. There is no king In Erin who will not make joy before us.” Those were their counsels. They went forth that night. They took with them thrice fifty fighting men, Thrice fifty gillies, and thrice fifty women, And Daerdra ’midst them, so that none might see her. After that night wherein they fled with her, They for a long while lived beneath protection, All round wide Erin,—though their annihilation Was oft attempted in the lands of Erin By the contrivances and plans of Conor, South-westward from white-foaming Assaroe, And round the south, until they turned once more North-eastward to Ben Edar. In the end The Ultonians drove them o’er the sea to Alba. There they abode in a desert. In a season, When the wild creatures of the mountains failed them, They took to falling on the kine and sheep Of the men of Alba, till the men of Alba Rose in one day to attack them. Then they went And took war-service with the King of Alba. They set their houses on his green. They slept not In the King’s house. It was because of Daerdra That they did that,—so that no man might see her: They feared they might be slain because of her. Then, on a time, one day, at early morn, The steward of the king of Alba took his circuit Around their houses; and he saw that pair, Neesha and Daerdra, in their sleep. He went Forthwith and roused the king. “We ne’er have found Until this day,” he said, “a woman worthy To be thy mate. With Neesha Son of Usna There is a woman worthy to be mated With the king of the Western World. Let Neesha, therefore, Straightway be slain; and let this woman sleep With thee thyself,” the steward said. “Nay,” the king said, “But rise and supplicate her secretly, Daily to come to me.” That then was done. What the steward said to her she told to Neesha. When the king got from her only refusal, The sons of Usna were commissioned forth Into hard combats, battles, and hard dangers, So that they might be slain; but they were firm In every place of wounding and of danger. Nought was attained. The men of Alba then Were mustered strongly to attack those sons And slay them. She was told that. And she told Neesha immediately. “Ye must depart,” She said. “Unless ye will depart to-night, Ye will be slain to-morrow.” So that night They left the king; and a long time they wandered In desert woods and lands, and in lone glens Set up their booths and tents. In time they came Unto Loch Etive and subdued the lands Around Loch Etive; and they made a stronghold; And for a while in peace they sojourned there. These things were told, now, to the men of Ulster, Who spoke together, and then said: “O Conor, This is to all our minds a cause of grief,— The Sons of Usna to be wandering In hostile lands, finding their death and end, Because of one bad woman.” Conor said: “Let one go forth to them to take that message, And offer them protection here in Avvin.” Then I (said Lowercam) was ordered forth To bear that message to the Sons of Usna. I found them, and they gave me trustful kisses, Kindly and fervently and loyally. And I, at finding them, wept floodlike tears; Because there were no two on the ridge of the world Who were so dear to me as were those two, Neesha and Daerdra. Then I spake my message. “We will return,” said Neesha, “if great Fergus Will come to be our safeguard and our pledge; And if a son of Conor’s and a chief Amidst the chiefs of Ulster will await To take our hands on landing.” I returned To give this word. When Conor heard this word, He weighed that matter for a space and season. Among the heroes of the Western World There was not any greater than was Fergus, In stalwartness and beauty and high race, In bounteousness and kindness; and to Conor He, without change, was ever dear and loyal. He by his prowess had broken thirty battles O’er chiefs in distant lands, e’en to the City Of Moorn in the far Land of Ice and Snow. Conor, then, pondered for a space and season. Then he took Fergus to a place apart, And said: “O royal warrior of the world, If thou wert sent to fetch the Sons of Usna, And they, in violation of thy safeguard, Were slain,—a thing which never would be done,— What wouldst thou do?” And this (said Lowercam) Was what great Fergus said: he said, “O King, Thy own blood, thy own flesh, I would not touch; But there is not another man of Ulster Whom I should find doing them injury, Who from my hands would not obtain his death.” “O royal warrior of the world,” said Conor, “Thou shalt go forth to fetch the Sons of Usna; For ’tis with thee that they will come. Depart To-morrow; and, when coming from the east, Land at the doon of Borrig son of Annty, Where Cormac, my own son, and Duffa Dael Will take their hands on landing. And, besides, Give me thy word that when they shall arrive, No stop or stay shall be allowed to them; So that the first food which they eat in Erin May be with me in Avvin.” Fergus promised; And early on the morrow he arose, And took with him no hosts or multitudes Except his own two sons, Illann Finn, namely, And Bwinn-ye the Rude-Red. And they set forth Upon that mission and that embassy. Then Conor sent for Borrig son of Annty. He said: “Hast thou a feast for me, O Borrig?” “I have,” said Borrig. “It was possible To make it, but it was not possible To bear it hither.” “That being so,” said Conor, “Give it to Fergus, when he comes to thee. And it belongs to his high hero-gassa And to his powerful hero-prohibitions, Both to refuse a feast when offered one, And to forsake a feast, ere it be ended.” Borrig, instructed, fared to his own doon. And Conor sent for Cormac, his own son, With Duffa Dael, the chafer-tongued of Ulster. “Go forth,” he said, “unto Dunseverick To meet the Sons of Usna when they come there; And take their hands on landing.” So he spake, Giving them wrong direction. As for Fergus, He, with his own two sons, Illann Finn, namely, And Bwinn-ye the Rude-Red, in his own boat, The Eura, sailed north-eastward, till he came To the strong place where dwelt the Sons of Usna, And to Loch Etive. And (said Lowercam) ’Tis thus that those three Sons of Usna were:— They had three wide and spacious hunting-booths; And in the booth wherein they cooked their food, Therein they ate it not; and in the booth Wherein they ate, therein they rested not. And Fergus let from him a mighty shout Within the harbour, so that it was heard Through all that country near to him. And thus Were Neesha and bright Daerdra,—with the Kenncaem Of Conor placed between them, while they played At royal feehill on the Kenncaem. Then Neesha looked up and said: “I hear the shout Of a man of Erin.” Daerdra, too, had heard The shout: she knew it was the shout of Fergus; But she concealed it from them. And again Fergus let forth from him his mighty shout Within the harbour; so that Neesha said: “I hear another shout. It is the shout Of a man of Erin.” “It is not,” said Daerdra, “It is, indeed, the shout of a man of Alba.” But Fergus let from him his third loud shout Within the harbour; and the Sons of Usna Then knew it was, indeed, the shout of Fergus. And Neesha bade Ardawn go to the shore To meet great Fergus: whereon Daerdra said That she had recognized the first loud shout Which Fergus had let forth. “Wherefore,” said Neesha, “Didst thou conceal it?” Daerdra said to him: “I saw a vision in the night last night,— Namely, three birds which came to us from Avvin, Carrying in their mouths three drops of honey: And they with us left their three drops of honey; But took with them three drops of our own blood.” “How dost thou judge that vision?” Neesha said. “Thus,” answered she. “Fergus has come to us, Out of our native land to bear us peace; And honey is not sweeter to a man Than is an embassy of peace. The three Sips of our blood which the birds took from us,— They are yourselves who now will go with Fergus, And be betrayed.” But it seemed ill to them That Daerdra should speak so; and they were grieved; And Neesha bade Ardawn go to the shore To meet great Fergus. And Ardawn went down; And when he saw great Fergus and his sons, He gave them each three kisses fervently And loyally, and took them to the stronghold Where Neesha was with Daerdra; and they, too, Gave their three kisses very fervently To Fergus and his sons. And Neesha sought Their tidings of all Erin; and in special Their tidings of the Ulster Fifth. And Fergus Replied: “These tidings are indeed our best,— Namely, that Conor has sent myself to fetch you; And I am now your warranty and safeguard, And I am dear to you, and true, and loyal; And I have taken my word, and it is on me Now to fulfil my covenant and safeguard. And Cormac son of Conor son of Fahtna, And Duffa Dael of Ulster will be waiting At Borrig’s Doon to take your hands on landing.” “It is not fit that ye should go,” said Daerdra; “For greater is your store of wealth and riches In Alba than it e’er will be in Erin.” And it was then, indeed (said Lowercam), That Fergus spake these very fervent words:— “Better than all things is one’s native land; For not delightful unto any man Is any store of wealth, however great, Unless he sees his own dear native land.” (Lowercam paused; for she perceived that Fergus, Hearing these words which he once so had spoken, Wept o’er his breast his flood-like showers of tears; And all perceived that like a sudden storm He rose; and, rushing like a sudden storm, Passed from the house. But Lowercam went on.) When Fergus so had said these thoughtful words, “Better than all things is one’s native land; For not delightful unto any man Is any store of wealth, howsoe’er great, Unless he sees his native land,” with fervour Neesha replied: “That thing is true, O Fergus; For dearer to myself is our own Erin Than Alba is, although by hap in Alba I might obtain more wealth.” “My word and safeguard And warranty are firm and strong for you,” Fergus said, urging. “They are firm and strong,” Said Neesha. “We indeed will go with thee Again to Erin.” Now (said Lowercam) It verily was not with Daerdra’s will That all these things were said. And she was trying To hinder them; but Fergus son of Roy Gave them his word that even if all the men Of Erin should betray them at one time, Not shield or sword or cathbarr should protect One such betraying from the wrath and vengeance Which he, great Fergus, would inflict on him. And Neesha answered very ardently: “O generous Fergus, Fergus of Avvin Maha, Thy word is firm, and we will go with thee Again to Erin and to Avvin Maha.” They passed that night away. Upon the morrow, Though early was the singing of the birds Amid the oaks, yet earlier than that, In the pale morn, was the fresh early rising Of Fergus and of Neesha. And they went Down to the creek and made their curraghs ready, And made the Eura ready; and ere yet The sun was high, Fergus and his two sons, And the three Sons of Usna,—Neesha, namely, And Annly and Ardawn,—with bright-cheeked Daerdra, And with their folk and people, bore away Along the sea, out to the awful ocean, To go to Erin. As for mournful Daerdra, She from the Eura gazed along their track, Back to the lands of Alba; and she said: “My love to thee, thou land there in the east; And I am wearying, indeed, at leaving The borders of thy cherishing creeks and havens, And thy smooth-flowering, unblemished plains, And thy green-sided hills. And very little Indeed does it now profit us to leave them.” Then o’er the wave-voice of the billowing sea She sang her words of highest love of Alba. “Belovéd land, thou land there in the east, Alba with wonders! I would never leave thee, Did I not leave with Neesha, my belovéd. Belovéd are Doon Feea and Doon Finn And the high doon above them; and belovéd Is Innish Draiguen o’er its strong loud beach. Kyle Cooan! O thick-branching wood of Cooan, Into which Annly oft would wend. Alas! Short seemed the time unto myself and Neesha, While we were in yon paling land of Alba. Glen Lawee! in Glen Lawee I would sleep Beneath a gentle crag. Deer-flesh and fish And badger-flesh they brought me in Glen Lawee. Glen Massan! in Glen Massan grows the garlic, Tall and pure-white. We had a rocking sleep Above the white-haired inver of Glen Massan. Glen Etive! O Glen Etive! there I built My first house. Tender are its circling woods. A cattle-fold for sunshine is Glen Etive. Glen Urkeen! O Glen Urkeen is a glen With straight, fair ridges. At his age no man Was prouder than was Neesha in Glen Urkeen. And Glen Dau Roo! My love to every man Who dwells therein. Sweet is the cuckoo’s voice From curved bough on the peak o’er Glen Dau Roo. And Innish Draiguen o’er its strong, loud beach! Dear are its pure-brinked waters where they shine Above pure sands; and I would ne’er have left it, Had I not left with my beloved, with Neesha.” So o’er the waves she sang her mournful words, While to their own dear land and heritage The Sons of Usna travelled. And delight Shone on the brows of these, while with their oars They beat the water-ways, until at length Beneath Doon Borrig, that long-famous doon Upon the cliff-high bounds of high-proud Ulster They put their prows on shore. And Borrig ran Down to that shore to take their hands on landing. He made great joy toward Fergus and his sons; And gave three kisses to the Sons of Usna; And said to Neesha that great grief was his That Cormac son of Conor son of Fahtna, And Duffa Dael of Ulster had not come North to his doon to take their hands on landing. Then, in a little while, he said to Fergus: “I have a feast prepared for thee, O Fergus; And it belongs to thy high hero-gassa, And to thy strong high hero-prohibitions, Both to refuse a feast when offered one, And to forsake a feast ere it be ended.” When Fergus heard these words which Borrig spake, He flushed an angry red from crown to ground. “Thou hast done ill, O Borrig,” Fergus said, “To place me under gassa, seeing that Conor Put my strong word on me to bring the Sons Of Usna south to Avvin on the day When they should land in Erin.” Borrig said: “I place thee under gassa, yea, such gassa, That no true hero henceforth will endure thee, Unless thou comest to consume my feast.” Then Fergus asked of Neesha what to do Concerning that. “Do,” answered Daerdra, fiercely, “That which appears the best to thee! Abandon The Sons of Usna. Drink thy feast. But truly ’Tis a high price to pay for any feast, Thus to abandon them.” It seemed to Fergus It was an evil thing to break his gassa And his high hero-prohibitions. Sadly He said to Daerdra: “I abandon not The Sons of Usna; for my own two sons, True Illann Finn and Bwinn-ye the Rude-Red, Go at their sides to Avvin. And my word And warranty go with them too,” said Fergus. “That is enough of excellence,” said Neesha; “For no one yet hath e’er defended us In battle or in combat or in conflict, Except ourselves.” And Neesha, in great anger, Moved from the spot. And Daerdra followed him; And Annly followed, and Ardawn, and all Their folk and people, and the Sons of Fergus. Yet it was not with Daerdra’s will and counsel That they made forth; and they left Fergus there Gloomy and sorrowful. Howbeit, to Fergus One thing seemed sure,—that if the Five Great Fifths Of Erin should take counsel all together, In the one spot, they still would not attain To daring to infringe his word and safeguard. As to the Sons of Usna, they moved forward By each well-shortened way and fair direction, Till Daerdra said to them: “O Sons of Usna, How will it hurt you, though ye wait awhile? I now would give you a wise, fitting counsel; Although ye may not do it for me.” Neesha Replied: “What then, O woman, is thy counsel?” She said, “To go to Rathlin, there, between Erin and Alba; and to stay in Rathlin Till Fergus shall have taken his feast; and that Will be a keeping of the word of Fergus; And to yourselves, O glorious Sons of Usna, ’Twill be an increase of your length of princeship.” “Toward us that is a saying of great ill,” Said the two sons of Fergus: “and to us It is impossible to do that counsel. E’en were there not the might of your own hands And ours, and the word of powerful Fergus Protecting you, ye would not be betrayed.” “Mourning and woe came with that word of Fergus,” Said Daerdra, “when he left us for a feast.” And she was in great grief and great dejection At having come to Erin on the word Of Fergus. And she said: “Woe that we came To Erin on the word of too-wild Fergus The son of Roy; and bitter is my heart. My heart to-day is as one clot of sorrow Beneath great shame. Alas! O princely Sons, Your end of days has come.” Neesha replied: “Say not these words, O eager, vehement Daerdra, O woman who art brighter than the sun. The word and warranty of generous Fergus Are strong to us.” But still she grieved and said: “Alas! I grieve for you, O Sons of Usna. To come from Alba of the red, swift deer,— Perpetual will be the woe from it.” After that arguing again they journeyed By each well-shortened way and fair direction, Until, half-way upon their way to Avvin, Daerdra remained behind in a deep glen; And sleep descended on her; and they left her Without perceiving it. But in a while Neesha perceived it; and he turned to meet her; And she was rising from her sleep. He said: “Why didst thou stay behind me here, O Queen?” “I had a sleep,” said Daerdra; “and a vision And dream appeared to me.” “What dream?” said Neesha. Daerdra said: “Sad the vision which appeared! I beheld each of you without his head; And Illann Finn without his head. Of help There was not any.” Neesha said to her: “O Daerdra, heed not visions of thy sleep. Thy mouth hath sung to us nothing save evil, O shining, radiant damsel!” Daerdra said: “Better to me were ill for every man Than for you three, O gentle Sons of Usna, With whom I have searched sea and mighty land.” After those words, again they journeyed forward, Until they came unto the Height of Willows Not far from splendid Avvin. And thence Daerdra, While gazing outward from herself, perceived A hateful cloud, whereat she said these words: “O Neesha, look upon thy cloud. I see it Before me in the air. Above green Avvin I see a very red, thin cloud of blood. A sudden starting has laid hold of me Before yon cloud. Like to a sod of blood Is yon red, awful cloud I see before me. And I would counsel you, dear Sons of Usna, Not to proceed to-night to Avvin Maha, With all this danger which there is on you; But let us go instead south to Doon Dalgan, To Dectora and Sooaltim; and later, When Fergus shall have come to us, we then Will go to Avvin.” Neesha angrily Answered wise, red-cheeked Daerdra: “Since, indeed, There is no fear on us, we will not do This counsel which thou givest.” And she, weeping, Said: “It has seldom happened before this, O thou descendant of distinguished Rury, That we have been without accord in counsel, Myself and thou, O Neesha. On the day When Manannawn bestowed on us a cup, Thou wouldst not on that day have been against me, I say to thee, O Neesha. On the day When thou didst bear me with thee on our flight Across white-foaming Assaroe of oars Thou wouldst not then, indeed, have been against me, I say to thee, O Neesha.” After that They moved ahead by each well-shortened way, Till they beheld high-glorious Avvin Maha Before their eyes. O men (said Lowercam), Owen the son of Doorha, King of Farney, Had had long strife with Conor; and the price Which he now paid for peace with powerful Conor Was this—to watch upon the Green of Avvin With hirelings; and to slay the Sons of Usna, So that they might not reach to Conor himself, And that Conor might not see them. Only Owen, Of all the men amidst the men of Ulster, Would have accepted that. The Sons of Usna Had reached the midpart of the green, when Owen, Searching the green through the dim-thickening dusk, Found Neesha; and, for welcome back to Avvin, In a fierce, evil, powerful wolf’s-onset, Gave him a thrust with his long-shafted spear, So that he clove his back. Then Illann Finn The son of Fergus threw his own two arms Round Neesha; and he put him under him, And lay on him; and he himself was slain. And, rapidly thereafter, east and west, Along the plain beneath the dusk-dark vault, Ardawn and Annly, and all folk and people Who had come thither with them out of Alba, Were slain with wounds, till every sod became A red death-pillow; and each man had fallen In his sick pool of slaughter and of dying. After that wounding, after those murder-strokes, After that falling, after that slaughter, loudly The men of Ulster cried three cries of woe And grief and mourning and loud lamentation. After that falling, after that slaughter, Cathbad Came on the green; and he cursed Avvin Maha In punishment for that great ill. He said: “In punishment for that great ill, no son Of Conor’s and no man of Conor’s seed Shall reign in Avvin, even though Conor himself, Who, till this deed, hath been a great safe Rudder To all this Fifth, procuring peace with riches, May yet reign many years.” So Cathbad spake. His saying is no hidden saying. Soon Their graves were dug for those three noble ones; And their three mounds were heaped on them. And Daerdra, With her hands tied behind her back, was put In Conor’s house. O men (said Lowercam), Her mournful tragic end I tell not now. I first must speak of Fergus. On the morrow He swiftly came towards Avvin; and I went Swiftly myself (said Lowercam) to meet him. I told him how those three heroic ones, The Candles of the Valour of the Gael, The three fleet-footed, harp-voiced Sons of Usna, Had been betrayed and slain in Avvin Maha, Though underneath his honour and protection. Fergus, at first, could not believe that tale. To him it seemed impossible that Conor, The regal one, whom he and all the Ultonians Held in great reverence and love, should so Have outraged him,—he, Fergus, being moreover The greatest of the warriors of all Ulster. When he believed it, word was sent to Cormac And Duffa Dael; and from Dunseverick These came to join with Fergus; and with them Was Feeaha the son of Conall Carna. The anger of the men cannot be told. In fury and huge wrath and vehemence They moved to do their deeds. They gave red battle To Conor’s household; and with violence They ravaged and laid bare and scorched and wounded From east to west and north to south round Avvin; And Fergus put a fringe of fire round Avvin To burn it; and no man amidst the men Of Ulster dared attack them or oppose them. Then they collected all their folk and people, Even to the number of a cantred,—thrice Ten hundred warriors; and they went from Ulster In rage and wrath. And yet (said Lowercam), Though thus they put their own dear land behind them, They could not put behind them their heart-love For Ulster; but they loved their own land still. This was the road they went by,—o’er Slieve Foo-id, Then o’er wide Meath to westward, till they reached The beautiful, smooth Hill of Usna. There They stayed awhile; and they deliberated As to which Fifth to go to,—whether to go To Finn the son of Ross the Red of Leinster; Or to Finn’s brother, Carpry Neea Faer; Or to the far south-west of mirthful Munster To Cooroi son of Dawra, who, some said, Was the best chief in Erin. Then one said: “The best of Fifths is Connaught; and the best Of kings is Al-yill; and the best of warriors Is Maev; and Croohan is the place of counsel For Erin all; since Maev in sway and power Is as a sovereign of all Erin. Also In Croohan there are found the choicest heroes And battle-champions, and the choicest poets And choicest men of learning and deep science And knowledge, in the circle of this world.” That was the counsel which all deemed the best. A messenger was straightway sent to Croohan; And Maev and Al-yill made great joy before him. He said to Maev: “O Queen, thou wilt indeed Be sovereign o’er wide Erin, if great Fergus Shall come to aid thee.” And it was not long Ere Fergus went himself. And when Maev saw him, She rose to meet him; and she welcomed him, And kissed him. And the women and the poets Kissed him, and welcomed him, and welcomed Cormac And Duffa Dael and all the chiefs from Ulster. Then Maev herself addressed great Fergus, saying: “This gift from me to thee, O upright hero, O Fergus: I will give perpetual keeping To all thy cantred,—thrice ten hundred men,— Together with their women and their poets, And their young lads, and all their folk and gillies; And thou thyself shalt have a full equipment For three score powerful men; and thou shalt have Red gold, in value worth thrice seven bondmaids, And wine each night in my own house in Croohan.” Fergus accepted that. And since that day, Now seven years past, Maev has bestowed on Fergus, And on the cantred which he brought from Ulster, That maintenance and keeping which she promised. Is it not true, O Maev? (said Lowercam) “Yea, it is true,” said Maev. Then Lowercam, After a little waiting, said: O men, I now must speak of Daerdra, and must tell you Of her sad, mournful ending. She remained A year near Conor; and in all that time She never laughed her gladly smiling laugh, Or took her fill of food or of deep sleep; And she ne’er raised her head from off her knees. And I (said Lowercam) was with her there, Tending her in that horror and affliction. When they would bring to her the men of music And folk of entertainment, she would answer: “Though beautiful to you your valiant champions Stepping to Avvin after expeditions, More beautifully stepped they toward their house, The three high-valiant, glorious Sons of Usna. Neesha with burden of mirth-kindling mead; I with a bath for him and with warm fire; Ardawn with a slain ox or a fat hog; And Annly on his high back carrying faggots. Though sweet to you the rich mirth-kindling mead Quaffed by the son of Fahtna of great valour, I have oft known a chase upon a doe, The food of which was many times more sweet. When noble Neesha would prepare for us A cooking-pit within the wild-floored forest, Sweeter than honey was each kind of food, Which there the Sons of Usna would make ready. Though sweet in every month, indeed, to you Your fluters and your players on the horn, This thing is what my conscience knows to-day:— That I have heard a music which was sweeter. Though sweet to Conor, the renownéd king, His fluters and his players on the horn, Sweeter to me was the cloud-rich cloth-nell The song the Sons of Usna used to sing. A voice as of the heavy waves had Neesha; It was sweet music to be ever hearing. The Cola of Ardawn, it was good music, And the andord of Annly towards his booth. Much would I bear of hardness and of want, When I was with the three delightful heroes; I would endure without a house or fire; And ’tis not I that would be sorrowful. The three shields of the heroes and their spears Were many a time my bed. O many a time Have I been with them in a solitude; But till their death-day I was ne’er alone. Neesha—his little grave-hill has been made. My sight departed out of my two eyes As I beheld the grave of Neesha. Soon My soul will leave me. I shall find my end. Belovéd was his spirit firm and just. Belovéd was the warrior, high, most noble. After our wandering through the woods of Fawl, Belovéd was our hidden, lonely rest. Belovéd was the blue eye dear to women, And cause of terror to his enemies. After their circuit of great woods and forests, Belovéd their andord through the dark way. I sleep no more. Alas! I sleep no more, And I stain not my finger-nails with crimson. No joy comes now upon my mind and spirit, Since the three noble Sons of Usna come not. I sleep no more. Alas! I sleep no more Through half the night-time in my lying-place; My senses fly away from me in crowds, Seeing that I now neither eat nor sleep. I now, to-day, for joy have no occasion; Or for the pouring of rich mead or ale, Or for delight or peace or gentle rest, Or for a house, or for rich covering.” And when (said Lowercam) Conor would try To be consoling her and pleasing her, ’Tis then that she would say to him these words: “O Conor, what, then, art thou thinking of? Thou hast heaped up on me sorrow and weeping. That is what I shall have while I shall live. Thy love for me will not endure for long. The thing which was most beautiful to me, Under the heaven, and which was the dearest, Thou tookest from me,—great the wrongful deed,— So that I shall not see it till I die. These things to me are lasting grief and sorrow:— The death for me of the three Sons of Usna, A little dark-black cairn o’er the white body Which was distinguished above countless men. Two crimson cheeks and lips comely and red, And eye-lashes as black as is the dael, And rows of teeth beneath a pearly lustre, Like to the very noble tint of snow. Distinguished was his clean and pure array Amidst the warriors of the men of Alba. A comely, crimson, fit, five-folding fooan, With its rich borderings of pure red gold. An innar of rich royal sról, a treasure Around him—with one hundred varied gems Upon its bright and splendid broidery, And fifty ounces of pure white findrinny. A golden-hilted sword in his one hand; And in his second hand two blue-grey spears; A shield with a surrounding rim of gold; And on it a bright central boss of silver. Fergus, the fair-haired, wronged us and betrayed us, Bringing us hither o’er the mighty sea. He sold his hero-honour for an ale-feast. His great and wondrous deeds, indeed, have fallen. Though they were all upon the plain before me, The men of Ulster, and thou, Conor, with them, I,—and I hide it not,—would give them all, To see the face of Neesha, son of Usna. Break not my heart, to-day, beneath thy woe. Soon I shall come unto my early grave. Sorrow is more powerful than the sea,— If thou wouldst know it—it is true—O Conor.” “What dost thou hate the most of all the things Which thou dost see here?” Conor said to her. “Thyself,” she said, “and Owen.” “Thou shalt bide A year with Owen,” Conor said to her. He gave her then to Owen. On the morrow They journeyed to the Fair of Maha. Daerdra Was behind Owen in a chariot. “Good, O Daerdra,” Conor, mocking, said to her; “It is the eye of a sheep between two rams That thou now hast between myself and Owen.” There was a cliff of stone against the way. She threw her head against the cliff of stone, So that she made bruised fragments of her head, And she was dead. There is no more to tell (Said Lowercam). O men, after that woe I myself went from Ulster, and I came To the Black Exile here in Connaught, namely, To Cormac and to Duffa and to Fergus; And here, far distant from my native land, The mists of sad old age lay hold of me. Lowercam ended; and in that great house In Croohan on Moy Wee in Connaught, each Went to his sleeping-place, and all was still. But Maev stepped forth out of her royal house, And went to the great mound; and on the mound Found Fergus standing; and his face was turned Toward the north-east, toward Ulster. Then Maev laid Her queenly arm around his royal neck, And said: “O Fergus, thou hast, verily, Great love for Ulster, thine own land; and yet Thou, who wast once the greatest of all warriors Throughout the Western World, wast scorned, insulted, And driven forth out of thy native land, To have thy dwelling in wild desert forests With foxes and wild deer; and ’tis with us That thou didst find a country and a land And an inheritance; and wondrous kindness We have bestowed on thee. Yea, even, O Fergus, Because of thy great manliness and vigour, I gave thee my own love and bare thee sons, Keear and Corc and Conmac—(great the deed)— Three goodly sons from whom, in aftertime, Distinguished clans and kindreds shall descend. It is now right that without any urging From us, thou shouldst with care and diligence Take thy own share of battle on this hosting And Táin. It would not seem to me too much Were Conor slain, that thou thyself, O Fergus, Shouldst become king o’er all the kings of Ulster.” These were Maev’s words. When they had thus been spoken, She went again into her royal house And to her royal bed and sleeping-place. And Fergus went to his own house and people. BOOK III BOOK III The many bands and troops which Maev had summoned Began to come upon Moy Wee. The first (And they arrived upon Moy Wee next day) Were Maev’s own seven sons, the seven Mahn-yas, Whom she had borne to Al-yill. These they were:— Mahn-ya Mathroo-il, who resembled Maev: Mahn-ya Athroo-il, who resembled Al-yill: Mahn-ya Mo-aepert, the much-talking Mahn-ya: Dumb Mahn-ya Toi, the mute and silent Mahn-ya: Good Mahn-ya More-gar, of great piety To Al-yill son of Mawta, to his father: Good Mahn-ya Meen-gar, of great piety To Maev the daughter of Yohee, to his mother. Mahn-ya Condagau Illy, who had beauty From father and from mother, being like both. Now, at the first, their names had not been Mahn-ya; But these had been their names:—Faylimy, Carpry, Yohee, Ket, Fergus, Sheen, and Dawra. Then, Suddenly, on a day, Maev had bestowed On each that new name, Mahn-ya. For one day (And it was many years before this time) While she was on the playing-field of Croohan, And they were playing round her, she had said Unto her Druid: “Say to me, O Druid, By which of all my sons Conor shall fall.” “Thou hast not borne him yet,” the Druid answered, “Unless thou wilt re-name them.” “How is that? Make this thing clear,” said Maev. The Druid answered: “By Mahn-ya Conor shall be slain.” Then Maev Re-named her sons, and gave unto each one That new name, Mahn-ya; so that by a son Of hers great Conor son of Fahtna Fahee Might fall in time to come. (Howbeit, a thing There was, which was not known to Maev that day:— It was not Conor son of Fahtna Fahee, But Conor son of a famed King of Alba, Of whom the Druid prophesied, and who Was destined to be slain in time to come By one of Maev’s own sons.) So now these Mahn-yas Arrived upon Moy Wee; and each one brought His cantred, thrice ten hundred men; and all Encamped upon Moy Wee, and joyfully Maev saw her valorous offspring. After these, The seven sons of Mahga came the next Upon that plain. They were experienced warriors, Brethren to Al-yill’s mother, Mawta Murrisc; And they were scarred and grey. These were their names:— Anloo-an, Baskell, Maccorb, Scandall, Aen, Five sons of Mahga. Doha son of Mahga, Who was—it happened so—a foster-brother To Laery the Victorious of Loch Laery, A chief in Ulster. Last, but most renowned, Ket son of Mahga, who a wolf of evil Was unto all in Ulster. These arrived, Each with his cantred (thrice ten hundred men) On smooth Moy Wee; and on Moy Wee encamped, And gladly Maev beheld them. After these Seven great noble under-kings arrived From wide and mirthful Munster. To each one (In order, so, the more to bind him to her) Maev, through her envoys, secretly had offered Her daughter, Findabair, the White-beam. Now, Each of those seven with his cantred came— His thrice ten hundred—in the hope to wed That maiden when the hosting should return. The maiden of that thing knew nought. These camped On smooth Moy Wee. Maev gladly saw them there. A warlike cantred next from Leinster came, Fighters replete with fames and victories. Their wide blue lance-heads, like those Lawry Ling-sha Had brought of old across the ocean, flashed Now, being borne across Moy Wee. And next Came a contingent of the Folk of Tara; And next, some small and varied bands; and then, A certain small but beautiful bright band, Mounted on soft, grey mares, which had gold bits And little bells of gold; the men themselves Having upon them wan-white laynas, worked With threads of gold, and, over these, eared bratts Blue like the sky, and clasped with deep red gold. Their silver shields and varied weapons, set With carbuncle and gems of worth, flamed bright With sparkles, as they faced the westering sun. This was the band of Frae the son of Eedath, Whose mother, Baefinn, sister was to Boyne Of the Immortal Shee. From the Shee-mound On green Moy Bray, that robing and equipment Had been bestowed upon him. Findabair, Far-gazing from the lofty greeanawn Above the high main gateway of the doon, Perceived that band arriving on the plain; Whereat her cheeks and countenance waxed bright Like sunrise in the month of May. She thought, Communing with herself, of that past day— Yet not long past—when, in the same array, Frae had approached to woo her. And she thought Upon his beauty on that other day, During the sojourn he had made at Croohan— The day when he had swum the dark-pooled stream, To pluck a branch of rowan red with fruit, That fringed the further brink. For, beautiful She had then thought it—o’er the black-dark pool To see him—his fresh body all clear white, His hair of radiant brightness, and his eyes Of blue-green greyness; and the branch with fruit Between his throat and his bright face. Then e’en Calling, “Is it not beautiful he looks?” She had perceived that the wild river-beast Had caught him in mid-stream. Whereat at once (Those who were round her being loth and slow) She, flinging off her raiment, had leapt down To swim the stream, carrying him a sword, Wherewith to slay the beast. After that day, And after some events and happenings, Al-yill and Maev had said to Frae: “Come, then, To join our hosting to the land of Cooley. Bring kine for sustenance to kings and princes. Bring thy three gentle and far-famed musicians For gladdening of the Hosts; and, at the end, When we again shall have returned to Croohan, Thou shalt have Findabair.” Now, therefore, Frae Came to the hosting on Moy Wee. He camped Upon Moy Wee, ere yet the twilight fell; And Findabair was glad. “I see,” said Maev, “O daughter, thou art glad to see them there.” The last of those to come upon Moy Wee Was the Black Exile. Fergus had sent word To Cormac, who was then in a far part Of Connaught; and he hasted not, but now, Almost at juncture of the day and night, He came with three great bands, the three together Making one cantred. From the Green of Croohan The men of Croohan watched these bands arrive. The first band was arrayed in bratts of green— Green like spring-grass, with silvery dagger-pins Fastening the bratts. Their laynas, stitched with gold, Descended to their knees. Their shields were long. A spear with wide grey head and slender shaft Was in the hand of every man of them. “Is this now Cormac?” shouted everyone. “It is not Cormac yet,” responded Maev. The second band wore bratts of dark black-grey. Their laynas next their skin, which were bright white, Descended past their thighs. Their shields were white. A spear which had five points on one stout shaft Was in the hand of every man of them. “Is this now Cormac?” shouted everyone. “It is not Cormac yet,” responded Maev. The third band was arrayed in purple bratts Of hill-heath purple; and their dagger-pins Above their breasts were all of rich chased gold. Their silken laynas, rich and soft and smooth, Descended to their insteps. Their curved shields Had blade-keen edges; and a towering spear, Like to a pillar in some kingly stead, Was in the hand of every man of them. While they drew near, they all in unison Lifted their feet, and all in unison Lowered their feet; so toward the doon they came. “Is this now Cormac?” shouted everyone. “Yea, this indeed is Cormac,” answered Maev. And very gladly on her plain of Wee Maev saw the Ulster King’s great exiled son. So the Four Fifths of Erin had assembled Until they were upon Moy Wee in Connaught. And on Moy Wee all made their camps that night, So that between the four famed fords of Wee, The Ford of Moga and the Ford of Bercna, The Ford of Slissen and the Ford of Coltna, The plain was as one cloak of smoke and fire, With their camp-fires enkindled there that night. And they remained the space of fifteen nights Encamped around Rath Croohan; for their poets And druids would not let them travel forth Until the end of fifteen days and nights, While they were waiting for a happy sign Of luck and fortune to that war and hosting. Therefore, throughout that time they had regalement And pleasing drinks and pastime, so that haply The hardships of their coming war and hosting Might seem the less severe and hard to them. When, at the end of all those fifteen nights, From her high mound and stronghold for outlooking And for surveying, Maev surveyed those troops And those vast multitudes and bands and throngs In point to break up camp and journey east Upon her war and hosting into Ulster— Into her mind there came uneasiness, Doubt and uncertainty and trouble. “Here,” She said within her mind, “are multitudes Parting to-day from loved ones and from kindred, From territory and from heritage, From father and from mother; and unless Whole and unharmed they here return again, It is on me that they will strike their groans And sighs and curses. And moreover now— Though I am now (outside high-powerful Ulster) The greatest ruler through the lands of Erin— Though I have now assembled this great hosting, That I may so avenge my bitter groans, And the disgrace and wrong and shame and insult Which were inflicted on me in my youth— Yet there is not true certainty with me That I shall have success, or that, indeed, I shall myself escape dark death, or even That I shall not be captured and be taken By Conor, and be given a far worse shame, And a worse wrong and contumely and insult, Than were inflicted on me in my youth.” This was the time wherein Maev called and spake Unto her charioteer, and bade him catch Her steeds and yoke her chariot, so that straightway She might repair to speak with her own Druid And ask for prophecy and knowledge. “Wait One while, O Queen,” the charioteer made answer, “That I may three times wheel the chariot round Sunwise, to win a sign of luck and fortune.” He wheeled the chariot sunwise, and then Maev Rode to her Druid. When she reached the Druid, She asked for prophecy and knowledge. “Here,” Said Maev, “are many throngs and multitudes Parting to-day from loved ones and from kindred, From territory and from heritage, From father and from mother; and unless Whole and unharmed they here return again, It is on me that they will strike their groans And sighs and curses, for ’tis I alone Who have assembled all this wondrous hosting. And yet, let that be as it will. There goes Not forth to Ulster and there bides not here Life dearer to us than our own. Find, then, O Druid, whether we, at least, ourselves, In safety from this hosting shall return.” The Druid said, “O great and prosperous Maev, Daughter of Yóhee Fayla, here I have Knowledge to hearten and enliven thee:— This knowledge, namely. Conor son of Fahtna Lies at this hour in splendid Avvin Maha In torment and in weakness. On all chiefs And kings in Ulster, each in his own doon, Torment and pain and weakness have descended. This is the curse of Maha daughter of Sanrith; And here now is the reason of that curse. Some six score years before the year in which We speak, Crunniuc the son of Agnoman, A wealthy brewy of the Ultonians, lived In Ulster, ’mid high, wild, and lonely moors. Many sons dwelt with him. His wife was dead. One day, when he was in his house alone, A thing occurred. For he perceived a woman Stately and young move by; and wonderful He deemed her guise and semblance. He perceived How, without uttering word, she kneaded, baked, And milked, and ruled the folk, even as though She in that stead had e’er been wont to be. At night she slept with him. So, a long time They dwelt together; and, through her good rule, There was no scarcity of each good increase In viands, vesture, wealth. A festival Was held in Ulster then. The folk of Ulster, Both men and wives and growing lads and maids Were faring to that festival; and Crunniuc Made to fare thither too. Excellent vesture Was round him; and a blooming, rich appearance Was on him. Then the woman said to him: “It will become thee at that festival To be discreet, O Crunniuc.” And he went With every other to the Green of Meeting. The festival was held. At close of day The steeds and chariot of the Ulster king Were brought on to the green; and those two steeds, Drawing his chariot, gained the victory. And the hosts cried, “There is not in this world Aught fleeter than those steeds are!” Crunniuc said: “My wife is fleeter than the steeds.” Whereat, He by the king was placed in cords and bonds. They told the woman that. “’Tis hard,” said she, “For me to go there to release him now; Since I am great with child, and nigh my hour.” “However hard,” the messenger replied, “Unless thou goest to race with the king’s steeds, Thy man will presently be slain.” She went So to the green. Then, when she reached the green, Her pangs of travail came on her. She cried Aloud unto the hosts. “Help me,” said she. “Help me. Show mercy; for it was a mother Who bore each one of you. Grant me delay Until I be delivered.” By them all She was refused that respite and delay. “Then,” she called out, “worse ill shall come of it— Ill that shall press on the Ultonians all For a long space of time.” “What is thy name?” The king put query to her. “I will tell My name,” said she. “Moreover, by the name Of that Birth I shall bear, this green for ever Will be denominated. I am Maha Daughter of Sanrith son of Imba.” Then She raced the chariot. Even with the speed Of windy ripples blown athwart a mere Or of blown foam flitting o’er some sea-strand, She raced the chariot; and she reached the goal, And, ere the chariot too had reached the goal, She was delivered; and she brought forth twins, “The Twins of Maha,” “Avvin Maha.” This, Then, “Avvin Maha,” thus became the name Whereby that green is known. Now, she had cried With agony of childbirth, and each man Who heard that cry immediately was cast Into great helplessness and grief and pain. She said: “Ye men of Ulster, from this hour— For nine full generations from this hour— When most oppression from your enemies Falls on your country, then on every man Descended from you men who here to-day Have done this shame to me, there shall come down A curse of torment and of pain and weakness, Like to the pain and weakness of a woman Approaching to her hour. And three alone, Namely, the women and the tender children, And also he who will be named Cucullin, Shall be exempted from this Curse. This Curse, Namely, the Kesh upon the Ulster warriors, It is,” the Druid said, “O Queen, which now—Now when thy mighty hosts fare forth to Ulster— Has fallen on each Ulster chief and king.” So spake the Druid, yielding knowledge. Then Maev answered: “Long ago I heard that tale, What time I was in Avvin in my youth, When I had been given to Conor against my will. This is the thing which I have hoped for, ever. And not long since, just ere Mac Roth returned From Cooley, certain of my envoys came From spying out proud Ulster; and I knew By their sure words that at this time the Kesh Was falling on the Ulster chiefs and kings. E’en had their bull been rendered eagerly, We should have gone to Ulster at this time. And yet a cloud of darkness and of doubt And apprehension weighs on me. Find then, O Druid, whether we, at least, ourselves, In safety shall return.” The Druid said, “Whoever may return or not return, Thou wilt return thyself.” The charioteer Then turned the chariot round; and Maev came back. Then, even as Maev came, she saw a thing Which was to her a wonder; for she saw, Fronting her, poised upon a chariot-pole, A just-grown maid move towards her. In this way That maid was. In her right hand she was holding A weaving-sword of white findrinny, set With hooklets of red gold; and she was weaving A bordering fringe. Folded around her shape, A bratt of leafy green, chequered and pied, Was held by a full fruit-like heavy clasp Over her breast. Her face was rosy, bright. Her eyes were laughing, blue; and her two lips Were shapely-thin and red. Within her lips Her teeth were glistering, pearly-glimmering— One might have deemed a white rain-shower of pearls Had rained in there. Her light, long, yellow hair Divided; three gold tresses of it wound About her head; another long gold tress Fell round her, making shade around her calves. Her feet were long and slender, very white. Her nails were trim and sharp and crimson-stained. Whiter than snow in one night softly fallen, The whiteness of her flesh was, where it shined And gleamed athwart her quivering, blown apparel. Maev looked at her. “What makest thou?” said Maev, “O damsel now and here?” The maiden spoke; And, when she spoke, as sweet as are the strings Of peakéd harps played by the skilful hands Of master-players, was the sweet, clear sound Of her calm, pleasant voice and utterance. “I am illuminating and revealing,” She said, “O Queen, the profit and the loss Which are before thee now, while thou dost gather, And muster here the Four great Fifths of Erin, To go unto the land of Ulster.” “Wherefore Dost thou this thing for me?” Maev asked of her. “I have much cause,” she said, “I am indeed A handmaid ’mid thy people.” “Of my people Who art thou?” Maev made question. And the maid Replied, “Not hard to tell; for I am Fedelm, A prophetess from ’midst thy unseen Shee. At Sowin, now, out of thy green Shee-mound Of Croohan, I have come, O Queen, to thee.” And it was then that Maev began to ask For prophecy; and Fedelm answered her. And this is what was said between them there. Maev said: “Speak then, O Fedelm, Prophetess, How seest thou our great hosts?” And Fedelm answered: “I see them red. I see them crimson-red.” “Conor the son of Fahtna lies,” said Maev, “In Avvin in his Kesh, the curse of Maha. My messengers were there; and there is nothing That we need dread, now, from the men of Ulster. But speak the truth, O Fedelm, Prophetess— How seest thou these our hosts?” Fedelm replied: “I see them red. I see them crimson-red.” “Cooscree Mend Maha, Conor’s son,” said Maev, “Lies in his Kesh in his own Innish Cooscree. My messengers were there; and there is nothing That we need fear, now, from the men of Ulster. But speak the truth, O Fedelm, Prophetess—How seest thou our great hosts?” Fedelm replied: “I see them red. I see them crimson-red.” “Owen the son of Doorha lies,” said Maev, “In his own rath, Rath Aer-heer, in his Kesh. My messengers were there, and there is nothing That we need fear, now, from the men of Ulster. But speak the truth, O Fedelm, Prophetess. How seest thou our great hosts?” Fedelm repeated: “I see them red. I see them crimson-red.” “This is not truth, O Prophetess,” said Maev. “Keltar the son of Oo-hider,” said Maev, “With a full third of all the men of Ulster, Lies in his Kesh in Doon Le-glass. And Fergus The son of Roy the son of Yóhee Lenny, Is with us here in exile, and he has His thrice ten hundred men; and we shall surely Bring victory and triumph out of Ulster. Speak then the truth, O Fedelm, Prophetess, How seest thou these great hosts?” She still repeated: “I see them red. I see them crimson-red.” “This thing to me,” said Maev, “is not the same As ’tis to thee. For when the men of Erin Shall meet in the one place, there will be quarrels, Occasions of dissension and disunion, And frays and fallings-out and feuds and broils— About their being in the van or rear, And about fords and rivers, and about First-slaying of swine and hares and stags and deer. Then look again for us, O Prophetess, And speak the truth to us.” The maiden answered: “I see them red. I see them crimson-red. I see a man who will perform great feats.” And she began to sing and prophesy And to foretell things that would be thereafter. And this was what she sang then at that time. “I see a man youthful and very fair, Who will perform great deeds, and win his fill Of hurts and wounds in his smooth fine-fair skin. Upon his brow, which is a meeting-place For victories, the hero’s light flames high. Amidst each eye the seven dragon-gems Of a pure hero-champion flame and burn. Plain to perceive, his intellect is keen. A red hooked layna folds him. His fresh face Is beautiful and noble. He observes Towards women courtesy and modesty. Though a mere stripling, blooming, dainty-cheeked, He in the battle shows a dragon’s form. His fairness and his valour now resemble Cucullin of Mweerhevna; and though, truly, Who this Cucullin of green Moy Mweerhevna May be I know not, yet this thing I know— These hosts by him will all be very red. Four little swords for feats of special skill He carries in each hand: he will attain To plying these upon the hosts: the hosts Will flee from him on every road and way. When, in addition to his spear and sword, He brings his dread Gae Bulg, he plants his feet On every slope and hill. Two spears project O’er his bright chariot-wheels: he rides to battle. Fury distorts him, battle-fury changes That form which hitherto I have perceived. He is Cucullin son of Sooaltim, Hound of the Forge: he wends unto a battle. Your hosts, now whole, he will hack down and fell. He will compel your slain thickly to lie. Strong men will leave their heads with him. This I, Fedelm the Prophetess, will not conceal. Red blood shall drip from the white skins of heroes— Lasting and long the memory shall be— Bodies shall there be torn, women shall wail, Through deeds of that renowned Hound of the Forge, Whom now, O Queen, I see.” The Prophetess Ended her prophecy: and Maev rode back From seeking-out of prophecy and knowledge. [Illustration: “MAEV RIDES FORTH TO SPEAK WITH HER DRUID.”] BOOK IV BOOK IV That day those many hosts and bands and throngs, Ending their feasting on Moy Wee, had moved Forth on their travel and their arduous hosting. Their travel unto Ulster now we tell; And all the ways they went by; and events That chanced upon those ways. First, then, they went South-eastward from Rath Croohan; and they crossed Moy Cronn, and passed Toom Mona, and the lake Where three bounds march; and at that first day’s end They camped on Cool Shillinny. There his tent That night was pitched for Al-yill son of Mawta. Fit furniture of cloths and coverlets Was ranged in it; and in that plenished tent On Al-yill’s right at pleasant feasting sat Fergus the son of Roy, Cormac Conlinghish, And Feeaha, young son to Conall Carna; While on his left sat Maev daughter of Yóhee; And Findabair, daughter of Maev and Al-yill. Servants, attendants, and distributors Were also in that tent. At eve that day Maev’s band had come the last of all those hosts; For Maev had lingered and delayed that day, Searching for prophecy and knowledge. Then, When she at length had come, she had commanded Her charioteer to fit for her her nine War-chariots (for ’twas in this manner ever, On every hosting, Maev was wont to fare:— Namely,—with two war-chariots in her front, Two in her rear, and two upon each side, The chariot on the which she rode herself Being amidmost of them. For this cause She so was wont to fare—namely, that so The turves and ooze flung from the hooves of steeds, Or flakes of foam flung from their bridle-bits, Or clouds of dust caused by vast, moving hosts, Might not attain to tarnishing or spoiling The flashing mĭnd of gold worn by the queen). The charioteer had brought these chariots then; And Maev had taken a circuit through the camp, Riding—that she herself might ascertain Which of those many bands were loth and slow, And which were active, rapid, animated Upon that hosting. Now she had come (that done) Into the tent, and sat by Al-yill’s side. Maev’s mind within her vexed her grievously That night; and she was troubled and perturbed And chafed and anxious, thinking of those things Which she had heard in way of prophecy. Then Al-yill asked for tidings of the camp. “There is no need,” said Maev, “for any folk To fare upon this hosting, save one folk—The cantred of the Leinster-men.” “What good,” Asked Al-yill, “have they wrought, so to be praised Beyond all others?” “When the others first Halted to camp,” said Maev, “these had already Built up their bothies and their booths and shelters. And when the others had built up their shelters, Those men of Leinster had served round their meat And ale; and when the others had served their meat, The Leinster-men had made an end of eating, And harpers played to them. As thus their slaves And bond-folk are distinguished ’mid the slaves And bond-folk of all Erin: so their leaders Will be distinguished ’mid the battle-leaders Of Erin; and ’tis with that Leinster cantred Each victory will be.” “The better that For us,” said Al-yill; “for it is with us They travel, and for us they will contend.” “With us they shall not travel,” Maev affirmed, “And for us not contend.” “Then,” answered Al-yill, “Let them stay here.” “They shall not stay,” said Maev; “When we have gone from Connaught with our hosts, They will rise up and take our land from us, If they stay here.” Findabair, Bright-beam, Daughter of Maev and Al-yill, asked her then: “What shall the Leinster-men then do, if thus They neither bide nor go?” And Maev replied: “Their death and violent end and slaughter—that Is what I crave for them!” “Woe,” answered Al-yill, “That thou shouldst say that thing,—only for this, That with dexterity and speed and swiftness They made their camp to-night! We will not hide That that is woman-counsel!” Fergus, then, The son of Roy, said: “By our truth of conscience! It shall not fall out so. They are a people Bound to us Ulster-men by bonds. No man Shall give them death but him who first gives death To me myself.” “E’en that we could achieve, O Fergus,” Maev responded. “We have numbers Enough to slay thee and thy Ulster-men And all those Leinster-men around thee. Here We have of Connaught folk upon this hosting The seven Mahn-yas with their seven cantreds, The seven sons of Mahga with their cantreds, Al-yill the son of Mawta with his cantred, And I myself with my own household troops. We are enough to slay you Ulster-men And all the Leinster-men around you.” Fergus Replied: “O Maev, it would not happen so. Upon my side there are the seven chiefs From wide and mirthful Munster; and with each Is his own cantred. I have here with me Two cantreds of the best of fighting-men Of Erin all, namely, our Ulster Exiles, And this same cantred of the Leinster-men. And to these last I have been pledge and surety, Since first they left their native territory, And came to Connaught; and ’tis on my part That they would fight in every place of battle. There is a thing, however, now,” said Fergus. “These men need not be made a cause of strife Between us. It is all one thing to me So that they be not injured. They by me Shall now be scattered and distributed Amongst the men of Erin, so that henceforth Not five of them shall be in the one place.” “It is one thing to me, indeed,” said Maev, “So that they stay not in that strong array Wherein they are this hour.” That, then, was done. The cantred of the Leinster-men was scattered Amidst the men of Erin, so that thenceforth, Not five of them were found in the one place. The hosts next day moved on from Cool Shillinny, Continuing their progress and their course. They passed by Doolough, and they crossed Slieve Bawne, And reached Mone Coltna. There, on that wide moor, They chanced on eight score deer in one thick herd, Which they surrounded; and in whate’er place There was a man of those same Leinster-men, ’Twas he who got the deer, except five deer, Which were obtained by others on that hosting. Across the wide, reed-bordered Shannon next The hosts passed eastward. On Moy Traega next They camped to east of it. Now, it was hard To wield and manage that vast host, composed Of many various folks and tribes and kindreds, And to make sure that everyone should be With his own friends and his own tribe and kindred. And then all said this was the fitting mode For their advance, namely, that each great throng Should be round its own king, and each division Round its own sub-king, and each lesser band Round its own captain; and that every king And everyone of kingly rank should make A camping-mound apart. Further, they said It must be thought of who was the fit man To go before the hosts, and show the way Between the two great Fifths. And then all said That Fergus was that man; because to him This hosting was a hosting for revenge And for retaliation on that king Who had insulted him, in causing death To those who had come to Erin ’neath his safeguard And sworn protection. So to Fergus then The leadership was given, and Fergus went Before the hosts to guide them on to Ulster. Then, e’en as he so led those warlike throngs Toward Ulster, toward the east, on Fergus fell His fervent love for his own land, that land Of proud-high Ulster. Each renowned old doon Therein was known to him. Famed men therein, Who now in resting-houses of old age Rested from wars, had been his fosterers. Famed battle-breakers, war-trained men therein, Had been his comrades in the use of arms, His dear, near foster-brothers. And young men Therein, and eager striplings, and fresh youths Had been his foster-children. And he thought Of one young lad, his foster-son, who dwelt Nigh Cooley—thinking of whom Fergus sent Swift warnings privily to Ulster. Then, By a long, devious route o’er bogs and streams He led the hosts, delaying their advance Toward Ulster, till they came at length to Granard In Northern Teffia. There a while they camped. Again the hosts moved onward, and again On Fergus came his pity for his land And kindred; and again sharp memory Of that young foster-son who dwelt beside The bounds of Cooley came; and then again He led the hosts by a long devious course. Through Northern Teffia and Southern Teffia Southward in loops he went, till he arrived Beside the streaming Inn-yone. Al-yill, then, And Maev perceived that thing which Fergus did. Maev challenged Fergus; and he answered her. “Fergus,” said Maev, “what kind of way is this? Wandering to north and south, in turn we stray Through every other folk.” “O Maev,” said Fergus, “Wherefore be troubled? ’Tis not for the harm Of these your hosts that I go wandering On every way in turn. ’Tis to avoid A certain Slaughter-hound of Moy Mweerhevna Who else would spring at you; and I forewarn you To fear that Hound.” Maev said, “It is unrighteous In thee to work the harm of this our hosting, O Fergus son of Roy! Thou, in thy exile, Hast found much kindness at our hands, O Fergus.” Then Fergus said, “I will no longer go Before these hosts. Let some one else,” said Fergus, “Go on before these battle-throngs to Ulster.” So Fergus yielded up the leadership. The hosts then took the nearest course to Ulster. Through Meath and by the great high road of Assal They went; and crossed the Finnglass, Delt, and Delind; And so drew near the Ultonian outer bounds. On high Ardcullin, at the pillar-stone Which marks the boundary of Ulster, soon Two scouts arrived, the sons of Renc of Croohan. Their names were Err and Inn-yel: and the names Of those who drove their chariots, Frae and Fohnam. The function these men had was, to precede The hosts in every hosting and encampment, Protecting all the clasps, blankets, and bratts, Brought by the royal sons, from getting soilure Through dust or mire raised by the moving hosts. These now, arriving on Ardcullin, gazed Abroad upon the trackless, unknown land— To them all strange and trackless and unknown— The land of Ulster. They began to see, Then, that around that boundary pillar-stone Steeds had been grazing. On the northern side The grass was cropped away e’en with its roots From out the earth. Upon the southern side The earth was licked away down to the stones And flags beneath the grass. And then they saw, Hooping the thick part of the pillar-stone, A new-made spancel-withe, made from an oakling New-felled and twisted: and a graven inscription In ogam was upon the withe. At that, They sat and rested; and their men of music Played to them till the host should come. First Fergus Arrived upon that height. They gave the withe Into his hand: and Fergus read the ogam Engraven upon the withe. When Maev arrived, She asked, “Why wait you here?” “We wait,” said Fergus, “Owing to yonder withe. There is an ogam Engraven on it.” Fergus gave the withe Into the hands of Maev’s own Druids. Then He said, “Good Druids, here is a spancel-withe. Whom names it to us? What now is its secret? What number threw it there, few or a host? Will it work injury to these great hosts If they shall journey past it? Find, O Druids, The secret of the withe.” Whereon the Druids Answered:—“This withe is a delay of chieftains, Misfortune unto fighters, fierce in import. By one man it was flung, who, using only One hand, one eye, one foot, felled from the forest The sapling tree, and firmly twisted it Into this withe and wrote the ogam. And now ’Tis gass to all your hosts to pass yon stone Without their spending here one night encamped, Unless some man amongst your hosts can make A spancel-withe like this one, using only One hand, one eye, one foot, and shaping it From the one stick. And thus the ogam closes:— ‘And I prohibit my dear Master, Fergus, From making it.’” “I give my word,” said Fergus, “If ye shall set that spancel-withe at nought, Insulting him who made it, if—that is— Ye neither camp one night upon these bounds, Nor see that some one from among yourselves Construct an equal withe, using one foot, One eye, one hand, as this one was constructed, Then, wheresoever ye may lie to-night, In house or doon or lodgment underground, That hero will for certain find you out; And some of you will pale in red death-pools Ere comes the hour of rising in the morn.” “Not that,” said Maev, “is it, which pleases us—One to take blood from us and redden us On our first entering yon foreign Fifth, The Ulster Fifth. Rather it pleases us To draw first-blood ourselves.” Al-yill then spake. “We will not violate this withe,” said he. “We will not violate the kingly hero, Who made the withe: we will not cross this height. Into the neck of yonder wide, great forest To southward, we will go till morning. There Our camp and our encampment shall be made.” The hosts turned southward then. With their strong swords They hewed the wood before them, hewing so A road-path for their chariots. Slahta, therefore, “Hewn road,” that place is named. In Cool Shibrilly, Just where the Little Partry is, it is, South-west of Cennannus of Kings. That night A heavy snow fell round the men of Erin. So much it was, it mounted to men’s shoulders; It reached the thick parts and the thighs of steeds, And reached their chariot shafts. One even floor Were the Five Fifths of Erin with that snow That night. And no pavilions and no booths And huts were made that night. There was no service Of food and ale; no eating or regalement Was there; and no one of the men of Erin That night knew whether ’twas his friend or foe, Who was next man to him, till the light came At rising-hour upon the morrow. Surely The men of Erin ne’er before had found A night in camp wherein they had more hardness And hardship to endure than they endured That night in Cool Shibrilly. On the morrow, As the sun rose and flashed along the snow, The four Great Fifths of Erin started onward; And from that territory to another They passed; they crossed the boundary, and passed Into the land of Ulster. Then those two, Who e’er were wont to go before the hosts— On every hosting and on every foray, In every pass and gap and river-ford— Inn-yel and Err, to wit, two of Maev’s people, Rode onward now as always. And each hoped He might himself be first to find and slay That warrior who had flung the withe; and thus Might gain much praise and fame. The hosts moved eastward; They crossed the Duv, the Ohawn, and the Caha, The Cromma and the Thromma and Fo-dromma Which flow into the Boyne. They came to Slane; And passed the field of Slane, and reached Drum Leek; And entered on the Pass through the great forest, Northward of Knowth of Kings. There something chanced. Those folks who were to vanward of the hosts Perceived the chariots of swift Err and Inn-yel Returning toward them, and the bloody forms Of Err and Inn-yel headless, and the forms Of their two charioteers, Fohnam and Frae, Headless, upon the chariots; and the blood From the four headless necks flowed o’er the wicker And frame-parts of the chariots. At that sight The vanguard halted; all the hosts were put To fear and dread and weapon-shuddering. Maev, then, with Fergus and the seven Mahn-yas And seven sons of Mahga, reached the front Which halted; and Maev asked, “What is this here?” “Not hard to tell,” said all; “these are the steeds Of that small band which ever went before us On every hosting and on every foray, In every pass and gap, river and ford. Here are the bodies of the heroes, headless.” Advice was shaped thereafter; and it seemed Certain to them that this was evidence Of numbers; and that some great host was there; And that it was the Ultonians who had come Into that place; and this was the advice There shaped by them:—namely, to send from them Cormac Conlingish son of Conor son Of Fahtna Fahee, that he might find out Who held the ford in front of them. They said, That e’en should the Ultonian hosts be there Upon that ford, they would not slay the son Of their own Ulster king. Cormac Conlingish The son of Conor son of Fahtna Fahee Then went from them to see who held the ford; And twenty hundred and ten hundred men Armed, made the force who went with him. He reached The turlough ’mid the forest, and the ford Whereby to pass that water; and he saw Nothing, save, lonely ’mid the water there, A four-pronged shaft, from every point whereof A head of one of those four slain dropped blood Down to the joining of the prongs and down Thence to the water’s current. And he saw Out of the ford, eastward, beyond, the ruts Of a chariot, and the hoof-prints of two steeds, The track-marks of one man. The chiefs of Erin Came to the ford; and all began to gaze On that pronged shaft; and on them all was wonder As to who could have placed the trophy there. “What name with you was on this ford, O Fergus, Until this hour?” said Al-yill. Fergus said: “Ath Greena; but henceforth, till Doom, Ath Greena Shall be Ath Gowla. From yon bold, rough deed; From yon pronged shaft upon two points of which Ye see the heads of In-yel and of Err, And on the other two the heads of Frae And Fohnam, this famed ford shall now be called Ath Gowla, ‘Ford of the forked tree.’” Then Fergus Said to Maev’s Druid, “O Druid, Pleasing One, What is yon ogam on the shaft? And were they Few or a host who dug this turlough-bed, Planting it there?” The Druid answered him, “That four-pronged tree which I see there, O Fergus, By one man it was cut: with one swift sword-sweep He cut it, root and branches. And he cast it With a choice cast from off the hinder-part Of his war-chariot, using one hand alone; And its two-thirds went firm into the earth; So that one-third of it alone is there Outside the earth. And he dug not its road Before it with his sword; but through the stones And flags and gravel of the turlough-bed It pierced its road. And to the men of Erin ’Tis gass to reach the mid-part of yon ford Before one man amongst themselves has drawn it Out of its bed, using one hand alone, Even as with one hand alone ’twas cast Into yon ford but now.” Al-yill then said: “There is much wonder and perplexity With me, O Fergus, owing to the speed Wherewith those four were slain.” Fergus replied: “Fitter it were to marvel at the skill Wherewith yon shaft was hurled; and this I tell you— If ye shall set that four-pronged tree at nought, Insulting him who hurled it—if ye pass This ford without that one among yourselves Have drawn this shaft, using one hand alone, Even as with one hand alone ’twas hurled Into the ford but now—then verily Wherever ye may make your camp to-night, He whom ye so insult will visit you, And many will be slain, as these were slain, Ere comes the hour of rising in the morn.” “Thou art thyself of these our hosts, O Fergus,” Said Maev. “Avert this hindrance. Pluck us up This pole from out the ford.” “Bring me a chariot,” Said Fergus, “Ye shall see whether ’tis true That with one curvéd sword-sweep it was cut, Both root and head.” A chariot then was brought To Fergus; and he stood on it, and gave A strong pull at the pole: and of the chariot He made small bits and pieces. “Bring me a chariot,” Said Fergus; and they brought a second chariot To Fergus; and he gave a stronger pull At the fixed pole, but made small bits and pieces And splinters of the chariot. “Bring me a chariot,” Cried Fergus. A third chariot then was brought; And Fergus put forth powerful strength and effort To draw the pole; but made crushed bits and pieces And fragments of that chariot. Seven and ten Chariots of Connaught, each after each, men brought; And of them all, each after each, great Fergus Made broken, bruiséd bits, splinters, and fragments, But had not yet been able to drag up The pole from midmost of the ford. Then Maev Cried to him, interposing: “Good, now, leave it, O Fergus. Be no longer breaking down The chariots of our people. Well we know That hadst thou not been with us on this hosting, On this occasion, we long since had reached The Ultonians, and had driven forth great prey Of captives and of kine. And well we know Why thou art acting thus. It is to stay And to delay the advance of our great hosts, Until the Ultonians rise from out their Kesh, And haste to give us battle, the great battle, The battle of the Táin.” Then Fergus cried, “Bring me my own good chariot.” And men brought To Fergus his own chariot. He put forth The utmost measure of his strength and effort; And not a pole or shaft or wheel or frame-bit Of that good chariot cried, grated, or groaned. Though great the prowess and the hero-strength Wherewith the pole was cast into the ford By him who cast it, yet with equal strength And equal prowess it was now plucked up Out of the ford again by that renowned, Famed battle-warrior and that hurdle-fence Against a hundred, that strong-smiting hammer, That foeman of vast hosts, that cutter-off Of multitudes, that flaming link, that chief Of huge battalions. Fergus drew it up With his one hand, steadily, till it reached His shoulder’s level; and he took and gave it Into the hands of Al-yill. Al-yill gazed Upon the pole, and scrutinized it. “True,” Said he, “I see that with one cut, one stroke, This has been finished, foot and head. This tells us The nature and the training of that people Toward whom we go. Go we to-day no further; But let our tents and booths be placed for us: Let pleasant food and ale be served to us: Let music and old lays be sung to us: Let us have banqueting and mirth. For never On any hosting did the men of Erin Meet with a night of camping in a camp, Wherein they had more dolour to endure Than they endured last night in Cool Shibrilly In the thick-driving snow.” A camp was made Beside Ath Gowla then. Bondmen and serfs From out the forest carried kindling-wood For fires, and young trees and bending boughs For bothies and for shelters: all began To broil their food and to make hot their ale. Maev made the circuit of the camp: whereon, She, seeing that thronged camp within the bounds Of Ulster, much exulted. “For when Conor Hears of this thing,” said she, “’twill be to him A fire within his heart, a gnawing cancer Beside his girdle.” So Maev thought, exulting. And Al-yill spake to Frae the son of Eedath. “O Frae,” said Al-yill, “bring thy three musicians— Thy three melodious and far-famed musicians— And let them play for us.” “Yea, let them play,” Frae said; and then those harpers were led forth. And the first harper touched his strings and played The mournful Goltree, the deep weeping-song, Until twelve men amongst Maev’s household troops, Hearing it, died with wailing and with grief. The second harper touched his strings and played The merry Gantree, the fresh laughing-song, So that the men around forgot their woe In laughter, and enjoyment, and delight. Last, the third harper touched his strings and played The Sooantree, the low, sweet sleeping-song,— Until on all the weary men around A sleep of soothingness descended. So, Slept those o’er-weary hosts. Howbeit, not yet Slept the great chieftains; but in Al-yill’s tent Of ample wideness, round the glowing brands Assembled, they conversed. Then Al-yill spake, The while they sat thus in the kingly tent,— “There is with me,” said he, “marvel and wonder As to who came to-day unto these bounds, Slaying those four who ever went before us On every hosting. Tell us, is it likely That it was Conor son of Fahtna Fahee, High-king of Ulster?” “Verily,” said Fergus, “It is not likely. Had it been great Conor Who came there, there had come along with him Those culled, choice bands and troops, which are the best Amongst the men of Erin, and which serve him Continually. Though the men of Erin, Together with the men of Alba, Britain, And Saxon-land should gather in one stead, One meeting-place, one course, one camp, one hill, Over against him, he would give them battle; Before him they would be defeated, scattered, And not o’er him would they gain victory.” “Who, then,” asked Al-yill, “was it? Is it likely That it was Cooscree Mend, the son of Conor, From Innish Cooscree?” “Nay, it is not likely,” Fergus replied, “for had it been the son Of the High-king who came there, there had come Together with him all those sons of kings And sons of chieftains who are ever with him In tutelage and training. Though the men Of Erin, with the men of Alba, Britain, And Saxon-land were gathered in one stead Over against him, he would give them battle With courage, and he would not flee before them.” “Who was it, then?” said Al-yill. “Is it likely That it was Owen son of Doorha king O’er wooded Farney?” “Nay, not so,” said Fergus. “Had it been he, he would have brought with him His goodly forces of the men of Farney: He would have stayed to fight a hard-fought battle.” “Who was it, then?” said Al-yill. “Thinkest thou That it was Keltar son of Oohider Who came there?” “Nay, in sooth, not he,” said Fergus. “He is a bruising quern-stone to the foes Of all the Fifth: he is a head of battle: He is an oaken door against the foes Of all his country! Though the men of Alba, With men of Britain and of Saxon-land, Together with the men of Erin all, From west to east, from south to north, should meet In the one stead, one doon, one camp, one hill, Over against him, he would give them battle: Before him they would be dispersed and scattered, And not o’er him would they gain victory.” “Who was it, then, that came unto these bounds?” Al-yill exclaimed. “I know not,” Fergus said; “Unless, indeed, there came that little lad, My fosterling and Conor’s fosterling, Whom we all called Cucullin of the Forge.” “Ah!” Al-yill said, “full many a time in Croohan I heard thee speak of that young child. Well, then, What may his age be now?” “’Tis not his age At all that matters to you,” Fergus said, “He was more celebrated for his actions When he was but a babe, than even now At his full seventeen years.” “How, then,” said Maev, “Have you among the Ultonians now some youth Of a like age with him, who is yet harder In combats and encounters?” “No,” said Fergus, And spake with vehemence. And as they sat At pleasant feasting in the kingly tent, And drank the sweet, enlivening wine which Maev Had brought with her from Croohan, he began Passionately to praise and glorify His foster-child Cucullin. “No,” said Fergus, “Ye will not find among the Ulster youths Another like him. ’Midst all other youths, He is a ram amid the flocks, a bull ’Mid timorous herds, a high and flaming torch Of a king’s house amidst the little lights Of shepherd-booths. Yea, and I say this, too:— Ye will not find over to northward there, Amongst the mighty warriors of this land,— Hard, dire sledge-hammers, barricades of battle, Huge gates against flood-waters, though these be,— Ye will not find among them all, I say, One of more firm resistance in a fight, Of greater vehemence in rapid onrush, Of faculty more airy, swift, and fresh In varied weapon-play, feats, and exploits Than is Cucullin. No, ye will not find Over against you, in this land ye enter, Another of like power, or a youth Who, in illustrious noble qualities,— In trophy-taking, in the feat of nine O’er pointed weapons, in address, in valour, In voice, in sweet and skilful utterance, In charm, in courtesy, in all distinction,— Attains unto the third part or the fourth Of that which is attained by that distinguished And noble Hound, Cucullin.” “Of this all,” Said Maev, “we will not make too much. One body Is all he has; and it, like any other, Receiving sore death-wounds will die. Moreover, It is the age of a but just-grown girl That ye attribute to him. Not for long Will this young beardless stripling ye describe Hold out against our armies!” “Think not so,” Said Fergus, “for the deeds of that young lad Were even more great and manly at the time When he was but a babe than even now At his full seventeen years.” Then Al-yill said: “On entering a strange and foreign land, To hear the adventures and the histories Of the famed, warlike tribes toward whom one goes, Is pleasant and a pastime. Tell us, then, The adventures of this child ye speak of.” Fergus Began to tell the adventures and exploits Wrought by his foster-child in those glad days Ere the Black Exile; and with joy the tale Of those old, happy days was taken up In turn by Cormac and by Feeaha. [Illustration: “FERGUS RELATES THE YOUTHFUL ADVENTURES OF CUCULLIN.”] BOOK V BOOK V That little lad (said Fergus) was reared up On Moy Mweerhevna, in the noble house Where dwelt his father, and his mother, namely, In bright Doon Dalgan. There men told him tales About the boys in Avvin. For ’twas thus Conor was wont to spend his sovereignty Since first he took the sovereignty: at morn, On rising, he adjusted and arranged All business of that Fifth; and then he dealt The day in three. One third of it he passed Watching the boys upon the green of Avvin Perform their games of skill. One third he passed Playing himself at feehill and at branduv. And the last third he passed consuming food And ale, till sleep unto all men drew down; Whereat the skilful men of music came To gladden and to soothe them to their sleep. Aye, though we now be exiled (Fergus said), Though Conor dealt me a most grievous wrong, And a most grievous insult,—I aver, That not in noble Erin, not in Alba, Is there another hero-king, the like Of wise, red-sworded Conor. Well, the child Was told the tidings and adventurous tales Of that incorporated band of youths In Avvin Maha. So, the little lad Besought his mother to permit him straightway To go and play upon the playing-green Of Avvin Maha. “Nay, it is too soon,” The mother answered. “Thou must wait awhile, Until some champion of the mighty champions Of Ulster, or some house-friend of good Conor’s, Come to convey thee safely, and to put The firm protection of the boys upon thee.” “It seems to me too long to wait till then, O Mother,” said the child; “I may not wait. But teach me now the quarter and direction Where Avvin is.” His mother answered him: “’Tis far from thee,—the place where Avvin is; For all the lone hill-region of Slieve Foo-id Lies between thee and Avvin.” But the child Said: “I will try to find it.” And he went, Leaving the sheltering doon, and took with him All his play-weapons; for he took with him His small bronze hurley and his silver ball, His feathered dart for shooting, and his spear, With butt flame-hardened; and he straightway fell To shortening and enlivening of his way With these child’s-weapons. With his hurley first He struck the ball, compelling it to spring To a far distance. Fleetly he let fly The hurley in its track, with the like force; And then he flung the dart, and then the spear. And lastly, with a playful rush, he flew After them all; and caught the hurley first; And then the ball, and then the feathered dart; Nor did the charred butt of his playing-spear Ere reach the ground; but by the point he caught it While it was whirling in mid-air. So, gaily, Athwart the lonely hills, he came at length To glorious Avvin Maha. And he saw The green, cleared plain of Avvin, where the boys Were gathered at their sports. Thrice fifty boys He saw, commanded nobly by Folloon The son of Conor, at their game of hurling Upon the green of Avvin. Then the child Made for the green; and, all unbidden, he went Amongst the boys to play with them. He grasped Their ball betwixt his legs and held it there; Nor let it travel higher than his knees Upwards, nor lower than his ankle-bones Downward; but he did so manœuvre it That not one player of them all could reach it With stroke or thrust or blow; and so he brought it Over the goal’s brink; and he won the goal From all those others; and they stared at him Befooled and dazed by utter wonderment. Thereat upspake Folloon the son of Conor: “Good now, O youths! fall on that youngster there. Through me his death shall come. ’Tis gass to you To let an outside youth come to your green, Unless he courteously hath placed himself Beneath your firm protection. Fall on him; We know he is the son of some Ultonian. ’Tis not the rule for your compatriots To intrude into your game without first seeking Your safeguard and protection.” Then it was That all at once, and moving all together, They fell upon the child. Aloft they raised Their three times fifty hurleys, to strike blows Upon his crown. He, standing all alone, Lifted his one small playing-club, and parried Their three times fifty hurleys. Then they took Their three times fifty balls; and all at once They cast them at the child. He with his fists, And with his fore-arms, and his palms, put back The three times fifty balls. They lastly aimed Their three times fifty playing-spears, with butts Flame-hardened; but he raised his little shield, Which was designed for childish feats of skill, And fended off the three times fifty spears. And then it was that with swift energy He turned on them, attacking; and he laid Fifty kings’ sons upon the ground beneath him. Five more of them (said Fergus, telling the tale) Came up between myself and wide-eyed Conor, Where we sat playing feehill on the board Of Conor, namely, the bright Kenncaem. There The little lad came, rushing after them. And Conor, with his kingly hands, laid hold Of the child’s fore-arms; and he said to him: “Halt, little lad, I see thou art ungentle Towards thy companions here!” “I have much cause,” The child replied. “I came from a far land; And when I came, they did not give to me A guest’s good welcome.” “Why, who art thou then?” The king inquired; and the child answered: “I Am little Setanta son of Sooaltim, And son of thine own sister, Dectora; And not from thee did I expect to find Reception like to this.” “Why, little lad,” Said Conor, “Didst thou then not know the law Which binds the corps of boys? ’Tis gass to them To let a youth of our own country come Into their games, till he hath placed himself Beneath their firm protection.” “Nay, in truth,” The child replied; “for had I known their law, I should have had some fear and care before them.” “Well, youths,” said Conor, “now receive the child Beneath your firm protection.” And they said: “We will receive him.” So the little lad Went underneath the safeguard of the youths; And the good king released him. But the child Turned on them once again, attacking them With energy and violence, and laid Fifty kings’ sons upon the ground beneath him. Their fathers thought that they were stilled in death. It was not so; but they were stilled by terror Of those great forehead-blows, and middle-blows, And blows from underneath, which with swift skill He dealt against them. “How now?” Conor said, Checking the boy; “what art thou doing now?” “I swear by all the gods of my own folk,” Exclaimed the child, “unless they place themselves Beneath my safeguard and my firm protection, Even as I was forced to place myself Beneath their safeguard and their firm protection, I will not stay my hands from striking them Till I have laid them all upon the ground!” “Well, little lad,” said Conor, “take the youths Beneath thy safeguard.” “I accept them gladly,” The child said. And those three times fifty lads Passed underneath the safeguard and protection Of the young child, Setanta. “Now (said Fergus, Ending his tale), if as a mere young child, At ending of the fifth year from his birth, He overthrew those sons of kings and heroes, Before the very gate of their own liss, And doon, and city—namely, of Avvin Maha— Is there a marvel or a wonder now, E’en though he come unto a boundary, And set a four-pronged pole into a stream, And slay a man, or two, or three, or four, Now that he hath fulfilled his seventeen years, On this, your Táin, to take the bull of Cooley?” Cormac Conlingish, now, the son of Conor, Began to speak; he said: “That child we speak of, At ending of the next succeeding year, Performed his next great deed.” “What deed was that?” Asked Al-yill. Cormac said: Cullan the smith Lived in the land of Ulster. He prepared A feast for Conor; and he went to Avvin To bid the king unto his feast. He said: “O king, bring with thee but a few. Not land Or territory have I; but alone My hammer and my anvil and my tongs, And my own two skilled hands.” The kindly king Said he would go to him, and bring but few. Cullan went back unto his doon, to arrange And to set forth his food and ale. The king Abode in Avvin till day’s closing. Then He donned his light, free garb of travelling, And went down to the green to say farewell To the young band of boys. When Conor came Out on the green, he witnessed a thing there Which caused him wonder. Three times fifty boys Defended one end of the green; one boy Stood at the other end; and that one boy From those thrice fifty others gained the goal. After, they played that hole-game, which is played By custom on the green of Avvin Maha; And first it was their turn to drive the balls, And his turn to defend. Thrice fifty balls Arrived before the hole; but not one ball Shot past him, reaching to the hole itself. And next it was their turn to guard the hole, And his to drive the balls; and, one by one, He safely launched the three times fifty balls Into that hole, without mistake or error. Thirdly, they played at reaving of their clothes From one another; and he quickly reft Their three times fifty coverings. As for them— Not so much as the pin which held his bratt Could they deprive him of. They lastly played At oversetting of each other. He Laid those thrice fifty on the ground, while they Could not so much as win firm hold of him. And Conor wondered while he watched the child. “O men-at-arms,” he said, “if but this child Come to excel in manly deeds, as now He doth excel in these, his deeds of childhood, It will be well for this our land, and well For all the lands of Ulster!” “’Tis not right To doubt that he will so excel,” said Fergus. “E’en as his limbs will grow, so will his deeds.” “Let the young child be summoned,” said the king, “And he shall go with us to drink this feast, To which we go.” The child was summoned then. “Well, little one,” said Conor, “wilt thou come With us to drink this feast?” “Nay,” said the child. “Why, how is that?” the king said. He replied: “Those, my companions, the brave band of youths, Have not yet had their fill of games and sports. I will not leave till they have had their fill.” “It is too long for us to wait till then,” The king replied; “we cannot wait for thee.” “Wait not,” the child said. “Go, and I will follow.” “Thou dost not know that road at all, my son,” The King replied, demurring; but the child Said: “I will follow on thy chariot-trail, And on the track left by the host and steeds.” Thereafter Conor went unto the house Of Cullan the artificer. With honour The king was welcomed; and the guests were ranged In keeping with each rank and art and law, And noble breeding and fair habitude. And green-topped rushes, paling towards the roots, Were strown beneath them; and all straightway fell To quaffing and to merriment. “O king!” Cullan inquired of Conor, “tell me now, Hast thou appointed e’er a one to come To-night unto this doon?” “Nay,” said the king, “I have not done so”; for he had forgotten That the young lad was going to follow him. “Why dost thou ask?” said Conor. Cullan answered: “’Tis that I have a ban-dog, huge and fierce, To guard the doon throughout the long, dark night. When he is loosened from his hound-chain, none Dare stay in the one cantred with him, he Making his nightly circuit round the doon. In him there dwells the vigour of an hundred; And he knows no one save myself alone.” Then Conor said, “Let the good hound be loosened That he may guard the cantred.” So that hound Was loosened from his hound-chain; and he made His circuit of the cantred, and then came Unto that bench whence he was wont to guard The doon and dwellings; and he couched thereon, With head on paws, and he was fierce and cruel, And wild and savage, and filled with rage and ire Toward everyone who would approach that stead. Now, with regard to the fair band of youths, They ’bode at Avvin till the hour for parting; Then each of them went home unto the house Of his own father and mother, or the house Of his kind foster-parents. Then the child Followed with speed upon the chariot-trail To reach the house of Cullan. And he fell To shortening and enlivening of his way By sporting with his small toy-weapons. Soon He reached the green which spread around the doon Where Conor was with Cullan; and he cast His weapons all in front of him, reserving His ball alone. And the great dog perceived The child approaching; and he uttered forth His snarling growl, so that men heard that growl Throughout the region round. It did not seem That he would even rend his prey; it seemed He would engulf it whole within the breadth Of his huge throat and his wide breast. The child Had not one weapon of defence before him. But, on the instant, with his playing-ball, He made a choice, swift cast into the jaws Of the great hound, and into his huge throat, And through his inward part and entrails; then, While the great hound was staggering helpless, swift He seized him by the feet; and with the body Dealt such a blow against the pillar-stone Which stood upon the green, that from his hands It fell in dead and scattered pieces. Now, Conor had heard the belling of the hound. “Alas! O heroes,” he cried out, “alas! That e’er we came to drink this feast!” “Why so?” Asked everyone; and Conor spake with haste: “There is a little gillie whom I bade To follow us. He is my sister’s son, Setanta son of Sooaltim; and now He has fallen by the hound!” All in an instant Rose the renowned Ultonians; though the gates Were flung wide open, out o’er the ring-fence Which topped the ramparts, each man stormed in haste. And swiftly though each went, swiftlier than all Went Fergus; and he seized the little lad From the ground’s surface, and he hoisted him On to his own broad shoulder; and he bore him Into the presence of Conor. Cullan came Out on the green, and saw his noble hound In its dead, scattered pieces. Then his heart Made mighty blows against his chest; he went Inside into the house forthwith and said: “Welcome, thy coming, child, now for the sake Of thy most noble mother and thy father. For thine own sake thou art unwelcome!” “Why, What grudge hast thou against the lad?” asked Conor, “It was a day of evil fate,” said Cullan, “That day when I set forth my ale to make A feast for thee, O King. To-day my substance Is substance wasted; and my livelihood Is a lost livelihood. Thou, little lad, Of one of mine own kindly household folk Hast robbed me now; for thou hast slain the guardian Of all my goods and of my flocks and herds.” Then the child spake: “Be thou not wroth with me, My master Cullan. I will speak the doom And the just judgment now upon myself.” “What judgment wilt thou speak upon thyself?” Conor inquired; and the boy replied: “If in all Erin there exist a whelp Of that hound’s seed, by me he shall be reared, Till he be able like his sire. Meanwhile, I will be Hound of Watching at this doon, And will defend the flocks and goods and kine.” “Good is the judgment thou hast given, my son,” Said Conor. “And I think Cathbad himself Could not have given a better. Wherefore, now, Hence, from this hour, I thee will designate _Cucullin, Hound of Cullan_.” “Nay, not so,” Besought the child. “I like my own name more, Namely, Setanta son of Soo-altim.” But Cathbad spake. “O little lad,” he said, “Reject not this. It is thy hero-name. The men of Erin and the men of Alba, Telling their famous tales, shall speak that name. Long as the wave-great sea shall girdle Erin Men’s lips shall speak it; yea, the mouths of men In Erin and in Alba shall be full Of that renownéd name.” “Then,” said the child, “I take the name. I take it willingly.” And so it came to pass that from that hour Wherein he slew the hound, there clung to him This most distinguished name, Cucullin. So, If as a little lad he did that deed (Cormac Conlingish said, ending his tale), If at the end of six years from his birth, He slew that ban-dog, which the hosts and troops Of all the cantred did not dare to approach, Is there a marvel or a wonder, now,— E’en though he come unto a boundary, And set a four-pronged pole into a stream, And slay a man, or two, or three, or four,— He having now fulfilled his seventeen years, On this, your Táin, to take the kine of Cooley? Next, Feeaha the son of Conall Carna Took up the tale. “That little child,” said he, “At ending of the next succeeding year, Performed his third and most renownéd deed.” “What deed was that?” asked Al-yill. Feeaha Made answer, saying: Cathbad, the good Druid, One day, north-eastward of resplendent Avvin, Was giving knowledge, wisdom, and instruction To his own pupils. Eight there were around him Of those who learnt druidic art and lore. And one of these asked of great Cathbad then Whether it chanced that any special charm Or mystic virtue rested on that day Wherein they were. And Cathbad straight replied: “The little lad who shall take arms to-day Will win great fame and glory, though his life Will be but brief and transitory.” Now Our little lad, playing his childish games To the south-west of Avvin, heard this thing; And straightway he flung down his childish arms And his toy-weapons; and with speed he sought The sleeping-house of Conor. “Every good Be thine, O King of Warriors!” cried the child. “That is an asker’s greeting,” the king said; “What dost thou ask, child?” “To take arms to-day,” The boy cried breathlessly. “Who taught thee that?” Questioned the king. “Great Cathbad,” said the child “If it was Cathbad, I must not refuse thee,” Conor replied, and straight bestowed on him An outfit of two spears with sword and shield. The boy, to test their virtue, brandished these, Bent them, and bowed them; and he made of them Small bits and broken pieces. Then the king Gave him two other spears with sword and shield; And these he likewise brandished, bent, and bowed: Making them bits and pieces. So the king Led him unto that house wherein were stored The fourteen suits of arms which he reserved For service of the corporate band of youths. —To this end he reserved them: that each youth On first assuming arms might be invested By the High-king himself, and so win luck And happy fortune for his arms thereafter. Howbeit, of these fourteen suits of arms, The little lad, testing them one by one, Made broken bits and pieces. Last, the king Gave him his own two spears, and his own shield, And his own sword; and the boy brandished them, And curved and bent them; and he doubled them,— Yea, even till head met butt and point met hilt, and yet They brake not, but endured him. “These are good!” Exclaimed the child; “these are a match for me! Long live the king, whose arms and gear these are! Long last the land he reigns o’er!” It was then That Cathbad, the good Druid, came. He asked, Dismayed: “Is yonder child taking on arms?” “He is,” replied the king; and Cathbad said: “Not for his mother’s son would I have chosen This day, of all the days, to be the day Of his first taking arms!” “How?” said the king, “Was it not thou thyself who taught him this?” “Not I,” said Cathbad. Then the king, in wrath, Turned to the child, saying: “What ailed thee, then, Thou changeling imp, that thou shouldst lie to me About this thing?” “Nay, be not wroth with me, My guardian, Conor,” said the child. “In truth It was great Cathbad who incited me. For one of his own pupils asked him, saying: ‘What charm or luck pertains unto this day Wherein we are?’—And Cathbad answered him: ‘The little lad who shall take arms to-day Will win great fame and glory, but his life Shall quickly pass; and early he will die.’” “He tells the truth of me,” said Cathbad. “So Thou, little child, shalt win great fame and glory, But early thou shalt perish!” “What reck I,” Exclaimed the lad, “though I remain in being But one day and one night; so that my deeds Live after me, and my exploits be told?” “Well, little lad,” said Cathbad, “since ’tis so, Arise and mount a chariot! ’Tis thy first.” He leapt on to a chariot; and he shook And bent it round about him, testing it; And brake it into fragments. Then a second He likewise brake; and then the seventeen New chariots that by Conor were held reserved For service of the corporate band of youths, The little lad, testing them one by one, Brake likewise into bits. “These are not good, These chariots! My kind guardian, Conor, not From these may I obtain my fitting match!” So spake the child. Then Conor called out, loudly: “Where now is Ivor son of Reeangowra?” “Here am I,” Ivor answered. Conor said: “Harness my own two steeds there, and prepare My own war-chariot.” Then the charioteer Prepared the chariot; and the little lad Mounted it; and he shook and bent it round him; And it endured him; and it brake not. “Good!” The child cried gaily. “This is my fit match!” “Well, little lad,” said Ivor, “let the steeds Be now turned out to graze.” “It is too soon,” Replied the little lad. “Drive now ahead, Three times round Avvin Maha; for to-day Is my first day of taking arms; and I Must now win fortune for my deeds.” They drove Three times round Avvin Maha. “Let the steeds Be now turned out to graze,” said Ivor. “Nay! ’Tis still too soon,” the boy said. “Drive ahead! That my companions, the brave band of youths, May speak their blessing to me, on this day, The first day of my taking arms.” They drove, And reached the plain where the boys played; and all Shouted, “Arms hast thou really?” “Yea!” he said; And then they gave to him their blessing, saying: “Victory, first-wounding, every triumph, Be thine henceforward! But to us it seems Too soon for thee to leave us. We shall miss thee In all our sports and games.” “Nay!” said the child; “I am not yet to part from you at all. ’Twas but to win a happy sign of fortune That I took arms for the first time to-day.” “Now, little lad,” said Ivor, “let the steeds Be turned to graze.” “It is, indeed, too soon, O Ivor,” said the child. “And tell me now, What is the name of yonder great high-road, Which passes there; and whither does it go?” “Why, how can that concern thee?” Ivor said. “Howbeit, I see thou art a talking youth, A dallier and a trifler.” “It seems well To me,” the child replied with dignity, “To ask, concerning one of the chief roads Of Ulster, where it leads to.” Ivor so Replied to him: “The road, then, leads straight on To Ath na Foraire, the Ford of Watching, On wild Slieve Foo-id.” “Wherefore is it named The Ford of Watching, knowest thou, perchance?” The boy made question. “To be sure, I know!” Said Ivor. “Daily there some man-at-arms Of the Ultonians keeps good watch and ward, Guarding the way, lest outside warriors come To challenge the Ultonians. If such come, It is his duty to do combat with them For the whole Fifth. Howbeit, if men of verse And science pass there, passing out of Ulster Indignant at their treatment, ’tis his duty To soothe them with rich gifts, and so to save The honour of all Ulster. And, again, If men of verse arrive there, entering Rich Ulster, ’tis his duty to provide Safe-conduct for them to the pillared couch Of Conor; so that their own songs and lays May be the first that shall be sung in Avvin When they arrive there.” “Knowest thou, perchance, O Ivor,” said the child, “what man to-day Keeps watch upon that ford?” “I know,” said Ivor, “’Tis combat-great, courageous Conall Carna, The son of Avver-guin, a king of heroes Amongst the battle-heroes of all Erin.” “Drive thou ahead, O gillie,” said the child, “That we may reach that ford.” They drove ahead, And reached the ford whereon great Conall was. “Has yonder one been armed?” asked Conall. “Truly, That is just it,” said Ivor. “Well,” said Conall, “Victory and trophies and first-wounding Be thine, O little lad; but to my mind ’Twas far too soon to arm thee; for indeed Thou art not fit for deeds. However, though, If it be merely to provide protection To any who may come unto these bounds, It is enough for any who may come Unto these bounds; for the Ultonians all Will rise on thy behalf.” “What dost thou here, My good friend, Conall?” asked the child. “I keep,” Conall replied, “incessant watch and ward Over all Ulster here.” “Rise to thy house, O Conall,” said the child, “leave me here now To keep that watch and ward for Ulster here.” “Not so, O little lad,” Conall replied; “Thou art not yet of force or skill to combat With a trained man-at-arms.” “Then,” cried the child, “I will ride past thee straightway toward the south, E’en to the Fertas of Loch Ahtra. There I will seek out some chance of reddening My hands on friends or foemen on this day.” “I will go with thee, little lad,” said Conall, “To guard thee, that thou mayst not go alone Over a boundary.” “Not so,” the child said. “Yea, I will go,” said Conall. “The Ultonians Would blame me greatly all, did I permit Thee all alone to cross a boundary.” For Conall then his chariot was prepared: His steeds were caught for him; and he rode forth To guard the little lad. When Conall’s chariot Came thus abreast of his, it to the child Became a certainty that even if He should obtain a chance for some great deed, Great Conall would not let him do the deed. He from the ground picked up a handstone, then, Which filled his grasp. He made a choice, good cast With this against the yoke of Conall’s chariot, So that he broke the yoke of Conall’s chariot In two; and Conall through the broken yoke Fell to the ground, and with the fall his shoulder Was cut and wounded. “What caused that, my son?” Asked Conall. “It was I,” the child replied. “I made the cast to try whether my cast Was straight and true, and whether I could aim At all, and whether there were yet in me The makings of a warrior.” “Venom, then, Be on thy cast!” cried Conall. “Venom be Upon thyself as well. Leave or leave not Thy head amongst thy foes. I now will go No further to protect thee.” “That exactly Is what I asked of thee,” the child said then; “Because ’tis gass to all of you in Ulster To ride on in the company of one Who in such way has done you injury.” Conall went north again to keep his watch Upon the Ford of Watching in Slieve Foo-id. As for the little lad, southwards he went, E’en to the Fertas of Loch Ahtra; and there He waited till day’s ending. Then spake Ivor: “If I may dare to say so much to thee, My little lad, ’tis time for us to turn And journey back to Avvin. There already The carving, and the dealing-out and sharing Have well begun; and now, whereas for thee There is a place reserved, where thou wilt sit Between the feet of Conor, there for me Is nothing but to be among the jesters And messengers and horsemen that belong To the great house of Conor. It is time That I were back to scramble with them.” “Well,” The boy replied, “harness the steeds again.” The steeds were harnessed; and the little lad Mounted the chariot-seat. “Why, tell me, Ivor,” He said, “What hill is yonder hill up there?” “That is Slieve Mourne,” said Ivor. “And what cairn Is that white cairn I see upon its summit?” The child asked. “That is Finncarn of Slieve Mourne,” Said Ivor. “It is pleasant at that cairn,” The child said. “It is pleasant,” answered Ivor. “Then drive ahead, that we may reach that cairn!” The boy commanded. “Well, in sooth,” said Ivor, “Thou art a dawdling and a lingering youth! But this is my first journey with thee. Be it My last until the ending of the world, If ever we reach Avvin once again!” Howbeit, soon they came to the white cairn Upon the summit of Slieve Mourne. “Now, Ivor,” The child said, “teach me Ulster on all sides; As yet I do not know my way at all About this country of my guardian Conor.” The gillie from that vantage pointed out The hills and hillocks and green steep-down fields Of Ulster all around. He pointed out Its plains and doons and strongholds. “That will do, Good Ivor,” said the boy. “And tell me now What is the name of yonder square, cleared plain, All dappled, and all seamed with vales, that reaches Beneath us towards the south?” “That is Moy Bray,” Said Ivor. And the boy said: “Point me out The doons and buildings and great fortresses Of yonder plain.” Then Ivor pointed out Taltin and lordly Tara, Knowth and Cletty, The Broo of Angus Ōg, and the dark doon Where dwelt the sons of Nahta Scaena. “Tell me,” The child cried eagerly, “are those the sons Of Nahta who are wont to vaunt and boast That the whole number of Ultonians living Doth not exceed the number they have slain?” “They are the same,” said Ivor. “Drive ahead!” The child cried joyously. “Away with us, That we may reach the doon of Nahta’s sons!” “Woe waits thy speech!” said Ivor. “But we know ’Tis childish folly to give such commands. And this is sure,” said Ivor, “whosoever May now go thither, it shall not be I.” “Living or dead, thou shalt go thither now,” The little lad said sternly. “Well, then, living I will go southward,” Ivor said, “but dead I shall be left beside that doon we know of, The doon of Nahta’s sons.” They drove ahead, And reached the doon. The little lad leapt down From off his chariot, lighting on the green. And thus that green was.—In the midst of it There stood a pillar-stone; a ring of iron Encircled this; and round the ring of iron Was cut an ogam script. This was the ogam: “Whoso arrives upon this green—he holding The rank of an armed man—’tis gass to him To leave the green, without first challenging To combat some one dweller in this doon.” The child perused the ogam. Then with strength He flung his arms around that pillar-stone, As though it had been a faggot of small wood, And cast it in the pool; and the bright wave Laughed over it. “It seems to me,” said Ivor, “It is no better there than where it was Before; and this is clear to me: that here Thou wilt obtain that thing which thou art seeking, Namely, thy death and sudden, violent end.” “Good Ivor,” said the child, “prepare for me The blankets of the chariot. I will sleep Now for a little while.” “Alas!” said Ivor, “This is thy foeman’s country, not some green Of gatherings.” Yet obediently he spread The blankets of the chariot; and the child There, on the foeman’s green, slept his deep sleep. And then it was that a dread son of Nahta, Namely, great Foill, the first-born son of Nahta, Came forth upon the green. “Unharness not Those steeds,” he shouted. Ivor quickly said: “I did not try to do so. See, their bridles Are still within my hand.” “Whose are the steeds?” Asked Foill. “They are two piebald steeds of Conor’s, The two Cannbracks,” said Ivor. “That is true,” Said Foill, “I recognize them. And what man Has brought them thus hither across the frontier?” “It was a tender youth,” Ivor replied, “Who in our country first took arms to-day. Merely to show his beauty and his form, He came unto these marches.” Foill cried out: “May it not bring him victory or triumph! And if I knew that he were fit for deeds, Dead he should journey back, northward, to Avvin, And not in life.” “He is not fit for deeds,” Urged Ivor; “and whoever calls him fit Speaks wrongly; for this year, in which we are, Is only the seventh year since he was born.” Just then the little lad lifted his face From off the ground, and quickly passed his hand Across his face; and, hearing Ivor’s words, He flushed from crown to ground. “I am, in truth, Fit for great actions and for hero-deeds,” He cried. Great Foill replied: “I rather think Thou art unfit.” “Thou shalt know what to think When once I meet thee at the battle-ford,” The child made answer. “Rise now. Fetch thine arms. I see that like a coward thou hast come, Knowing ’tis not my wont to wound or slay Heralds or charioteers, or folk unarmed.” Then Foill went headlong for his weapons. Ivor Said breathlessly: “’Tis fit that thou beware Of yonder man, my little lad.” “Why so?” The child demanded. Ivor said: “That man Is Foill the son of Nahta Scaena. Him Nor point nor edge may wound.” “I think, good Ivor, It is not fit that thou shouldst so address me,” The boy said. “See now. I will set my hand To my own dael-feat, namely, to my apple Of tempered iron, which shall make its way Through his shield’s tract and through his forehead’s tract, Hewing a blood-red roadway through his head And through his nape, and making a free way For the clear air beyond.” Foill son of Nahta Came to that combat. The child set his hand To his own dael-feat; and he made a cast That pierced the shield’s tract, and the forehead’s tract, And made a blood-red roadway through the head Of Foill the son of Nahta; and Foill fell; And then the little lad severed the head Clean from the neck, to be his sign and trophy. The second son of Nahta now came forth, Namely, great Toohal son of Nahta. “Well,” Cried Toohal, “so thou wouldst exult and triumph About this deed!” “Nay,” said the child, “not yet Have I e’er deemed the slaying of one man A cause for triumph or for exultation.” “This time, at least, thou shalt not boast,” said Toohal. “By me thou shalt be slain.” “Go, fetch thine arms,” The boy said. “Like a coward thou hast come, Knowing ’tis not my wont to wound or slay Heralds or charioteers or folk unarmed.” And Toohal went for his war-weapons. Ivor Said anxiously: “’Tis fit that thou beware Of yonder man, my little lad.” “Why so?” The boy demanded. Ivor said: “That man Is Toohal son of Nahta Scaena. Him, Unless thou slay him at thy first attempt, By thy first blow, first cast, or first strong thrust, Thou mayst not slay at all, so great his skill In warding off, and parrying, and defence, In front of pointed weapons.” “My good Ivor, It is not fit that thou shouldst so address me,” The boy replied. “See, I will set my hand To Conor’s own great spear, the Venomed Spear, And it shall pierce the shield above his breast, And pierce the heart within his breast, and break Three ribs upon his further side; ’twill be A stern, determined cast. It will not be A deed of tenderness. For mighty Toohal There will be no delightful house of healing, Or sick man’s bed, until the end of time, After that cast.” Then Toohal son of Nahta Came on the green; and the child set his hand To Conor’s own great spear, the Venomed Spear, Which pierced the shield o’er Toohal’s breast, and clove The heart within his breast, and broke three ribs. And the boy swept his head clear from his neck, Even or ere his body touched the ground. And now the last of the three sons of Nahta, Namely, swift Fannla, youngest son of Nahta, Came forth upon the green. “They were but fools,” He cried, “these two, who have encountered thee!” “How so?” the boy inquired. “Come!” said Fannla, “Down unto yonder water, where thy feet Will not touch ground.” And Fannla darted thence, And out upon the water. “It is fit,” Urged Ivor, “that thou be upon thy guard Before yon man.” “Why so?” the child demanded Impatiently. And Ivor said: “That man Is Fannla son of Nahta. For this cause He bears that name: that with a weasel’s swiftness, And with the swiftness of a swallow flying, He travels o’er the water. In this world There is no swimmer who can cope with him.” “It is not right that thou shouldst warn me so,” The boy replied; “for it is known to thee, That river which we have at Avvin Maha, The green-banked Callan. Once upon a time, The band of youths, leaving their games of skill, Plunged in the stream; and I held up a lad On each one of my shoulders, and a lad On each one of my wrists, nor did I wet More than my under part.” The boy went down To wrestle on the stream with Fannla. Quickly He flung his fore-arms above Fannla, forcing His body downwards, level with the wave; And then he struck a powerful downward stroke With Conor’s sword, severing Fannla’s head Clear from his neck. He let the body float Down the wide stream; but brought the head to shore, To be the trophy of his victory. So were those dreadful foes of Ulster slain; And the child gathered up his heads and trophies, And gave them to his charioteer; and then, Hearing the cries of Nahta, their fierce mother, And tumult of men issuing from the doon, To avenge those deaths, he said to Ivor: “Rise, And drive ahead, northward, across Moy Bray. I will not part with these my heads and trophies Till we reach Avvin Maha.” So they placed The three heads on the chariot; and they rode, With speed like to the speed of flying birds, Or to the speed of the cold, pure, spring wind, Northward across Moy Bray; and they outstripped Those who pursued them, and arrived in safety At the lone region of Slieve Foo-id.—There, Crossing the red-haired mountains, they descried A far-off herd of deer; and the young lad Said: “Tell me, Ivor, what is that great herd Of moving cattle? Are they tame or wild?” “Why, wild,” said Ivor; “those are the wild deer Who on these lonely spaces of Slieve Foo-id Do keep and roam.” “Now prick the steeds, good Ivor, And we will try to reach them.” Ivor pricked The steeds; howbeit, the o’er-weary steeds Could not come up with the swift mountain-deer. Then the young lad leaped from his chariot-seat, And darted o’er the heather and the rocks; And captured one swift, stalwart buck of them, And bound him to the chariot. On they drove, Northward, and reached the brink of the cleared land Which lies round Avvin. There they chanced to see A flock of beautiful wild geese, which flew Straight past them. “What are those white birds, O Ivor?” The boy inquired. “Are they pets or wild?” “Wild,” replied Ivor. “They are flocks of geese Who from the rocks and cliffs of the Great Sea Fly inland, seeking goodly food and pasture On the green plains of Erin.” “Which were rarer And more distinguished,” asked the eager child, “To bring them living, or to bring them dead, Home unto Avvin Maha?” “It were rarer To bring them living,” Ivor said; “for not By everyone is owned the art and skill To capture them alive.” Thereon the boy Made with his sling a little, gentle cast, Arresting eight of them. A second time He made a cast, but with a heavier stone, And stopped sixteen of them. “Alight, O Ivor! Collect the birds,” he said, “for if I go To gather them myself, this untamed stag Will spring at thee.” “It is, indeed, not easy For me to go,” the charioteer said. “See, The two steeds have grown mad; I dare not pass them. I dare not pass either of these two wheels Of iron, for the sharpness of their rims. I dare not pass behind, for the stag’s antlers Have filled the space ’twixt the two chariot poles.” “I see, indeed, O Ivor,” said the child, “Thou art not yet a true, accomplished hero. Step from the antlers of the stag. I swear Now by the gods by whom the Ultonians swear, The bending wherewith I will bend my head Upon him, and the eye that I will make While eyeing him, will hold him; so that truly He will not dare to turn his head at thee, And will not dare to move.” This, then, was done. The charioteer gathered the birds. The child Tethered them then with ropes, braces, and thongs Belonging to the chariot. Then, “Good Ivor,” He shouted gleefully, “convey the birds Along with me to Avvin.” And ’twas thus He rode toward Avvin: the three severed heads Of foes upon his chariot, white-bright birds Fluttering above it, a wild mountain-stag Running behind it. And in a short time They came to Avvin Maha. Lowercam Daughter of Oy and I-ark saw them coming. She said to Conor: “Yon a chariot-rider Approaches terribly. Red, bleeding heads Of foes are on his chariot; bright, white birds Are round about him; a wild, untamed stag Is bound and tethered at the chariot’s rear. We must make ready to receive that rider.” Then Conor said: “Indeed, I know that rider! It is the little lad, my sister’s son, Who went to-day unto a boundary To seek first-reddening of his hands. Make ready Now to receive him fitly!” Then three vats Of pure, cold water were prepared; and raiment Was laid out fairly. And the warriors met The child; and quick, obedient servitors Took him, and plunged him, first in the one vat, Then in the second vat, and last of all In the third vat; and so his battle-rage Was cooled; and all his skin was cleansed, and shone, And flushed a crimson-pink from crown to ground. And then they combed his tresses of fair hair, Which gleamed pale-golden, like the wax of bees, Or like a clasp of fair, pale gold, when shining Towards the bright sun. This done, they took a layna, That was inwoven with bright threads of gold, And put it round him; and they took a bratt Of bright grass-green, and pinned it with a pin Of white, wrought silver o’er his breast. And then They led the child to sit between the feet Of Conor, the great king, who, with his hand, Stroked the child’s brow. So, now (said Feeaha), If, as a little lad, he did that deed— If, at the end of his first seven years He slew those champions and those battle-fighters By whom two-thirds of all the men of Ulster Had fallen, and had fallen unavenged— There is indeed no wonder and no marvel, E’en though he come unto a boundary, And plant a four-pronged pole into a mere, And slay a man, or two, or three, or four, Now that he hath fulfilled his seventeen years, On this, your Táin, to waste the land of Cooley. BOOK VI BOOK VI Now, there was in the tent with them that night, Amidst the warriors and the noble chiefs, A warrior of the men of Domnann, namely, Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra, A young, choice warrior of the men of Domnann, From Irrus Domnann in the far-off west; And while all quaffed still in that kingly tent Beside Ath Gowla, and discoursed and wondered, Wondering at those boy-deeds, Faerdeeah said: “O King and Queen,” he said, “I, if ye will, Will tell you all the tale and history How that Cucullin was trained up to arms And wondrous deeds and feats of warlike skill By Scawtha in the East; for I can tell it, Having been there with him myself; and that Which I saw not myself my dear companion, Cucullin, hath narrated to me. Truly, If ye shall hear this tale, when ye have heard it, Ye will no longer wonder at yon deed, Namely, his coming to this boundary, And setting yon pronged pole into the mere, And slaying those who ever went before you In every war and hosting.” Al-yill said: “Good, O Faerdeeah, tell us, then, that tale.” Whereon Faerdeeah told his tale in order, And in progression, and with oratory And choice and learned words. O men (said he) Ye have heard tell of the restraint and rule And excellent lordship found in Avvin Maha Under the admirable, able king, Conor the son of Fahtna, in whose time Concord and quietness and peaceful pleasure, With plenteous yield from forest, field, and ocean, Have stayed with the Ultonians. Ye have heard Of the great dignity and rank and plenty In the king’s house in Avvin. That king’s house, The long Creev Roe of Conor, was designed After the likeness of the Meadhall House In Tara. Nine score feet and fifteen feet Its length from door to door; and it is built Of fitted planks of rich, red yew, and roofed With planks of yew thatched o’er with lapping shingles. Inside the house from fire-hearth unto wall There are nine imdas; and of these each pillar Of bronze has thrice ten feet in height, and each Partition is of rich, red boards of yew. Within the chief place in that house is placed The imda of Conor; and round about it stand Pillars of bronze with silvern capitals; And on each capital a bird of gold Perches; and flashing gems of carbuncle They are which serve for the birds’ eyes; and so These flash that in that house the day and night Seem of like brightness. A tall, narrow band Of silver reaches from above the king Up toward the roof-tree of the kingly house And what time Conor with his royal wand Strikes the resounding silver, all the men Of Ulster become silent, so that even A needle falling on the vast house-floor Is heard, because of the great hush and silence Wherein men are through reverence for him. Ranged About this imda are the twelve tall imdas Of the twelve chariot-chiefs of Ulster. Yea, And all the valiant warriors of the land Of Ulster find a place in the Creev Roe At feasting. Many noble gatherings And many wonderful and varied pastimes Are there; and nightly, when the twilight falls, The I-arn Gool, that wondrous cask, is filled With heart-enlivening wine. One hundred brewings: That is the measure that is poured at eve Into the Gool: that is the goodly measure Which satisfies the Ulster men assembled At the one time. And when the night descends, And the tall, kingly candle of the house Is lighted, then from door to door are stretched Long ropes on which the chariot-chiefs of Ulster Perform with skill. Three other feats of skill Those chiefs perform as well:—the apple-feat, The sword-edge feat, the dart-feat. Well ye know The names of those renownéd chariot-chiefs, As Conall Carna son of Avver-guin, And Laery the Victorious son of Connud, And mighty Keltar son of Oo-hider; But, in the happiest time, the Sons of Usna, Since slain, were there; and Fergus son of Roy Was there, the noblest chief of all; and there Were Duffa Dael and Cormac son of Conor. They three are absent now; but Avvin yet Is wonderful and splendid. So at night The chariot-chiefs perform their feats of skill In the great house; and, as the night goes on, The folk of music and of art and verse Arise and sound their stringed melodious harps And their bright timpans; and they chant aloud The boughs of genealogy and boughs Of Ulster kinship; and they sing their songs Of skilful harmony, until sweet sleep Falls on the hosts, and all the house is still. Now, when Cucullin had fulfilled from birth His fifteen years, in feats and in swift skill He went beyond all others of his time; And greatly did the Ulster women love him For his swift skill and for his nimble leap, For his sweet utterance, and for the beauty Of his fresh face, and for his ardent looks, And for his wisdom. Many were his gifts; For—saving when his battle-rage flamed high— He had the gift of wisdom and of reason: He had a wondrous gift for feats of skill: He had a gift for booanbac and feehill: He had the gift of estimating numbers: He had the druid’s gift of prophecy: He had the gift of shape in face and form. Three faults alone he had. He was too young; And older warriors hailing from strange lands Would taunt him for his ungrown beard. Besides, He was too daring and too beautiful. The men of Ulster then deliberated About Cucullin; for they held in mind Great Cathbad’s prophecy; and they were troubled, Being in great fear that their beloved Cucullin Would perish from them early; and they wished To give a wife to him, that he might leave A son. They knew that only from himself Could such another as himself gain life. Thereafter Conor sent nine messengers Into each Fifth of the Five Fifths of Erin, To see whether in any royal doon Or chieftain’s doon in Erin they could find The daughter of a king or of a chieftain Or of a wealthy brewy, whom Cucullin Might choose to woo. The messengers returned, But had not found a maiden whom Cucullin Could choose to woo. Beyond the white-bright Boyne, Beyond the bounds of Ulster, in the plain Of rich Loolohta Loha, nigh the sea, Cucullin knew a maiden whom he loved And chose to woo. And this, indeed, was Emer, A daughter of the wily Forgall Mona, The lordly, wealthy brewy, who is nephew To Tethra, king of the Fomorians. Her Alone, of all the maidens of wide Erin, Cucullin chose to visit and to woo. For she had the six gifts:—the gift of beauty, The gift of a sweet voice, the gift of utterance, The gift of needlework, the gift of wisdom, The gift of chastity. Cucullin said He would woo none but one who should be equal Unto himself in lineage and in age, In beauty and in skill, and who should be The best hand-worker of the maids of Erin. And only Emer, daughter of Forgall Mona, Had this description. Therefore her alone Cucullin chose to woo. In bright array Cucullin travelled south to visit Emer And show to her his beauty. For at first He called unto his own good charioteer, Laeg son of Reeangowra, who was brother To the good charioteer of Conor, namely, To Ivor son of Reeangowra. “Now, My good friend Laeg,” Cucullin said, “bring up My own two steeds. Bring up the Leea Maha, Who rose from out the lake in wild Slieve Foo-id, So that I cast my arms about his neck And wrestled with him, making him my own. Bring up the black Doo Sanglenn, whom I found In that dark lake I named him after. Bring My chariot which no steeds of all the steeds Of Ulster may o’ertake, it being drawn By those two steeds I speak of.” Laeg brought up The steeds, and he prepared the chariot. Then In festive raiment and in bright array Cucullin travelled south to visit Emer And show to her his beauty. On a day In rich Loolohta Loha, Emer came Out on her playing-field, outside the doon; And round her were her foster-sisters, daughters Of lords of land who lived around the doon Of Forgall. On the bench of gatherings Beside the doon these sat; and they were learning Rich needlework and fair, choice handiwork From Emer. As they sat upon the bench, The maidens heard somewhat approaching them. They heard the rapid thuds of hooves of steeds, The creaking of a chariot, the quick cracks Of leathern straps, the grinding of swift wheels, The clang of weapons. Emer spake to them. “Let one of you rise up,” said she, “and see Who is’t that through the land rides towards us so.” Then Feeal daughter of Forgall rose and said: “I see two steeds equal in size and beauty And bounding speed; and they are broad of brow And slender-mouthed, with crispéd manes and tails, And heads uplifted haughtily. The steed Against the chariot’s right pole is dark grey, And he looks fierce and wild. The rock-strewn turf Flames underneath his four hard hooves. A flock Of swift birds follows. While he takes his course Along the track there darts from him a flash Of fiery breath, and bright-red sparkling fire Streams from his curbéd jaws. The second steed Is black as is the dael; and beautiful He looks, as easily he bounds along, Following the levels of the green mid-glen And the cleared river-mead. Behind I see A chariot of fine wood and woven osiers, Whereto are white bronze wheels, and a long pole Of white bright silver set with white findrinny. Its yoke is high, arched, and o’erlaid with gold. The plaited reins are yellow. The hind poles Are straight as are two daggers. On the seat Sits a fresh, ardent youth, most beautiful Of all the youths of Erin. Round him falls A crimson and five-folded fooan, held By a gold, graven brooch, against the which His white breast heaves, beating full strokes. The layna He wears is white, and has a pure, white hood All interwoven red with flaming gold. Two blue-white, blood-red cheeks breathe fire and flame. Darker than is a winter night is each Of his two eyebrows. Underneath them flash Seven red dragon-gems within the midst Of each of his two eyes. I think, indeed, A ray of love burns in his look. A sword, Long and gold-hilted, rests on his two thighs. His spear is bound fast to the chariot-frame. Upon his shoulders hangs his crimson shield, All silver-rimmed and decked with beasts of gold. And now he leaps the hero’s salmon-leap; And many other wondrous feats he shows, That chariot-chief of the distinguished chariot. In front of him there is a charioteer, A man tall, stooping, slender, freckled greatly, With very curly, gold-red hair confined About his brow by a findrinny circlet, And at his neck by cups of shining gold. He wears a small, short cloak with openings At his two elbows. In his hand he bears A red-gold rod for ruling of the steeds.” Thus Feeal daughter of Forgall spake. Ere long Cucullin came upon the playing-field Wherein the maidens were. He greeted them; And Emer lifted up her sweet, fair face, And recognized Cucullin. Then she said: “May Dess make smooth thy travelling-way before thee.” He answered: “May all here be safe from harm!” “Whence hast thou come?” she asked. And he replied, Speaking in learnéd language: “I have come From the resounding, smooth-bright City of Twins.” “Where did you sleep?” she asked. “We slept,” he said, “Within the house of him who tends the kine Of the green plain of Tethra.” “In that house What was your food?” she asked. He answered her: “The Ruining of a Chariot there was cooked To be our food.” “And what way did ye come?” She asked. “Betwixt two Hard ones of the Forest,” He said. “By which way did ye travel then?” She further asked. He said. “Not hard to tell; Athwart the thick-green Covering-Veil of Sea, O’er the Great Secret of the men of Deea, Across the Foam of the Two Steeds of Avvin, Across the Garden of the Red More-reega, Over the back of the Great Sow, and down The Glen of Dam, and down the trodden road Between the God and his great Druid-Seer; Then o’er the Marrow of the Woman Fedelm, Between the Boar and his own Dam; and then Over the Washing of the Steeds of Deea, Between the King of Ahna and his Servant, O’er the four-cornered Manncool, o’er Great Crime; And, lastly, o’er the Remnants of the Banquet, Unto these fields of Loo the son of Ethlenn, Namely, Loolotha Loha. Here I greet The daughters of the nephew of great Tethra, The king of the Fomorians.—And for thee, O maiden, what is the account of thee?” Cucullin asked. “It is not hard to tell,” The maiden said, “for I am called indeed The high and well-walled Tara among women; The unattainable, fair, glittering star Of chastity; the secret jewelled worm, Deep in a well; the flame of fire; the road Which none may enter.—For around me here Are champions and strong men that follow me, Guarding me always that I be not taken Without their knowledge, or great Forgall’s will.” “Who are the champions who thus follow thee, O maiden?” said Cucullin. Emer said: “Two Looees, and three Looaths, and Lath Gobla The son of Tethra; Tuath and Trescath too; Brian and Balor; Bas the son of Omna; Eight Connlas; and my brother Conn the son Of Forgall. Every separate man of them Has in himself the vigour of one hundred, Besides the feats of nine. Forgall alone Is such that it were hard indeed to tell His many powers. He is stronger far Than any bondman; and more learned far Than any druid; of more sharp perception Than any poet. More than all the feats Of skill that thou mayst own would not suffice For fighting against Forgall. Great the deeds Of valour that have been narrated of him.” “Why dost thou not account me as the match Of these strong men, O maiden?” said Cucullin. “Why should I not account thee so,” said Emer, “If deeds like theirs have been recounted of thee?” “Maiden, I swear,” Cucullin said, “my deeds Shall be recounted amidst glorious deeds Of battle-heroes.” “What then, is thy strength?” The maiden asked. “It is not hard to tell,” He said; “when I am weak in fight, I fend For twenty; and the third part of my strength Suffices thirty. I alone give combat To forty; and the mention of my name Protects one hundred. Fords and battle-fields Are shunned for dread of me; and multitudes And hosts of arméd men flee far away Through terror of my look and face alone.” “Those are good fights for a young, tender lad,” The maiden said; “but thou hast not as yet Attained the strength of chariot-chiefs.” “O maiden,” Cucullin said, “if I have so attained, It is not strange; for not as a churl rears His child between the flagstone and the hearth Have I been reared by my kind guardian, Conor. I have been reared among the learnéd men, Among the druids and among the poets, Among the chieftains and the battle-champions, Among the jesters, harpers, and musicians, Among the brewies and rich lords of land, Of our dear realm of Ulster; and by them I have been given their manners and their gifts.” “Who, then, have brought thee up to all these deeds Whereof thou vauntest?” Emer said. He answered: “It is not hard to tell. Sweet-worded Shenca Has taught me, so that I am wise in judgment And not forgetful. Blai, the lord of lands Of Tara in the Ards of Ulster, took me Because of the close kinship of his race: So that I got my due of wealth with him, And learnt the way to entertain the men Of Ulster, for the week of entertainment, Together with their king, red-sworded Conor; And for that week to settle all their gifts And spoils, and aid them in each fine and eric, And in their honour. While I yet was small, And ere through woful cause he left our land, The noble Fergus fostered me. From him I learnt to slay great warriors through the strength Of valour: yea, by valour and by prowess I guard our border against foreign foes— Being a bush of shelter to the poor, And a protecting rampart to the wealthy. I comfort each poor wight, and slay the strong, All through the kindly fosterage of Fergus. Then to the knee of Avver-guin I came, The skilful poet and father of Conall Carna, So that I learnt the way to praise a king For any excellency that he has; And the sweet Finncaem, mother of Conall Carna, Cared for me kindly, that victorious Conall Might thus become my foster-brother. Cathbad, The good, renownéd druid, taught me then, For the dear sake of Dectora, my mother— Making me skilful in druidic arts, And learnéd in the excellence of knowledge. Yea, all the men of Ulster equally Have brought me up, both kings and kingly poets, Both chariot-chiefs and their good charioteers; So that I am the loved one of the host And multitude; and for them all I fight, And for the honour of them all. Moreover, O maiden, one amongst the bright Immortals, Namely, great Loo, long-handed son of Ethlenn, Hath noticed me; and there will come a day When he will help me. So, for thee, O maiden,” Cucullin asked, “say how hast thou been reared Here in Loolohta Loha?” Emer said: “It is not hard to tell. I have been reared In antique virtues and in fine behaviour, In noble manners, in a queenly carriage, In truth, in courtesy, in chastity; So that to me there is attributed Each noble quality which men may find Amongst the hosts of women.” He replied: “Good are these virtues verily. Why, then, O maiden, should it not be right and fit For us two to be one? I never yet Have found a maiden able to converse In this wise at a meeting.” Emer said: “A question first. Hast thou a wife?” “Not so,” Cucullin answered. Emer spake again, And said: “This thing would not become me well, I thus to go unto a man, ere goes My elder sister Feeal daughter of Forgall, Whom thou seest near me here. She is distinguished For wondrous handiwork.” “Nay,” said Cucullin, “It is not she whom I have loved.” Just then Cucullin saw the two breasts of the maiden Athwart her layna’s opening. Then he said: “Fair is this plain, the Plain of the Noble Yoke.” And Emer, understanding, answered him: “None comes unto this plain but him who slays As many as one hundred at each ford Between the Ford of Skenn-menn at Ollbinny And Banquin Airked where the swift Brae breaks The brow of Fedelm, fleeing wife of Nahtan.” “Fair is this plain, the Plain of the Noble Yoke,” Cucullin said; and Emer answered him: “None comes unto this plain but him who slays Thrice nine men at one blow, and with such skill As to save one man ’midst each nine of them.” “Fair is this plain, the Plain of the Noble Yoke,” Cucullin said; and Emer answered him: “None comes unto this plain but him who slays Benn Sooan son of Rossmelc, from the end Of summer till the opening of the spring, And from the opening spring until May-day, And from May-day until full winter falls.” Cucullin said: “’Tis said. It shall be done.” “It is accepted,” Emer said. And so Those two were plighted. When those noble words Had thus been said, Cucullin moved from her, Holding no longer converse. O’er Moy Bray He rode to northward. Silently he rode Awhile, but in a while his charioteer, Namely, good Laeg, aweary of the silence, Said to him: “Good, now, Cucuc, those strange words And unknown names the which I heard thee use—Thee and the maiden as ye talked together— What did ye mean to say by them?” Cucullin Replied: “Dost thou not know, good Master Laeg, How that I woo that maiden? We concealed The sense of our discourse, enfolding it In learnéd terms of scholars and of poets, That her companions who were round her there Might not have understanding of it. Forgall, Were he aware I wooed her, would prevent Our meeting thus for converse.” Then Cucullin Began at the beginning of that talk Which he had held with Emer. He explained Its terms to Laeg, who listened. So with tales And antique lore he shortened and made joyful The tedious way; and ever north they travelled. “Well, first of all,” said he, “I said I came From the resounding, smooth-bright City of Twins. That is great Avvin Maha. Well thou knowest The story of Maha, wave-swift wife of Crunniuc, Who raced the steeds of the High-king of Ulster, And at the goal bore twins, from whom men named The city raised there. Next, I said we slept Within the house of him who tends the kine Of the Green Plain of Tethra. That is Roncu, King Conor’s fisherman. He with his line Catches his fish; and poets call the fishes The kine of the green sea. “The Plain of Tethra,” That is the sea; for Tethra is a king Above the fierce Fomorians who range The seas in search of plunder. Guileful Forgall Is sister’s son to him. We ate, I said, The Ruining of a Chariot. Now, thereby, I meant that little foal which in that house Was killed and cooked for us. Thou dost remember How for three nomads there we were detained, Having partaken of it. For ’tis gass On every chariot that a man should mount it For three whole nomads, when he hath partaken Of flesh of steeds; because the steed it is Which doth bear up the chariot. After that, I said, betwixt two Hard Ones of the Forest We came: I meant Slieve Gullion and Slieve Foo-id. We came through Orkill, the dark wood which fills The space between them. Then, I said, we rode Athwart the thick-green Covering-Veil of Sea; That is green Moy Mweerhevna, where we passed My own dear doon, Doon Dalgan. In old days A dark enchanted sea covered that plain— A sea so dense that warriors dressed in arms Might rest upon its billows—till the Dagda, Distinguished God o’er the fruit-bearing earth, Arriving with his Club of Storm and Tempest, Conjured it; and it dried and left the plain For the sweet grass to grow on. Then, I said, We passed the Secret of the Men of Deea; And that is Grellah Dollud. On that moor In old, old days—ere came the Sons of Mil— The Thoo-aha Dae Danann, Men of Deea, Assembled secretly; and there they planned That battle of Moy Twirra, where at last They freed themselves from the hard rent and tribute, That the Fomorians, the strong Ocean-rangers, Exacted from them year by year. Good, then, Over the Foam of the two Steeds of Avvin, I said: I meant the river Oo-anub, The Foaming One. Within the hollow Mound Of Ercmon, by the Thoo-aha Dae Danann, Two steeds were reared—reared for a famous king Then ruling in great Avvin. When the steeds Were freed from out the mound, a glorious stream Broke after them; and it was white with foam; And foam o’erspread the country. Thence is named White Oo-anub, that water which we forded. Across the Garden of the Red More-reega, We came, I said; and that is Oughter Netmon. The Dagda gave that height to the More-reega, To the great horror-breathing Queen, the quaffer Of men’s red blood, inciter by her cries To furious, blood-red battle. In that place She made her herb-field, and there dwelt. Well, then, Over the Back of the Great Sow we climbed, I said: I meant Drum Bray; for when from Spain Our ancestors, the noble sons of Mil, Arrived against these shores, on every hill And every ridge the Thoo-aha Dae Danann, By powerful spells, impressed the loathly shape Of a long-sided sow. So by their spells, Breeding dislike and dread, they hoped to drive The sons of Mil from off their shores. And then, Down through the Glen of Dam—that is Glen Bray— I said we came; and down the trodden road Between the God and his great Druid-seer. The God I meant is Angus Ōg, bright son Of the great Dagda; and his habitation Is, as thou knowest, in his lordly Broo, Beside the white-bright Boyne. West of the Broo One sees the Shee of Brassil, who is Druid And Seer to Angus; and the great South Road Passes between the two. And now we crossed, I said, the Marrow of the Woman Fedelm: That is the reach of the bright river Boyne Betwixt the river Thromma and the Inver, Where the Boyne mingles with the sea. And then— But now (Faerdeeah said), to tell the tale Of all those names upon the river Boyne, Which then Cucullin told; and all the tales He told besides of famous forts and doons South of the Boyne; and the long tale he told Of beautiful, sweet women who abide On a large plain beneath the sea and give Gold urns to those who visit them,—to tell These at this time would surely weary you. Laeg asked Cucullin: “Those strange, darksome words The maiden spake at parting, what were they?” Cucullin answered: “When I said to her, ‘Fair is this plain, the Plain of the Noble Yoke,’ ’Twas not Moy Bray, good Laeg, that thus I praised. It was the maiden’s shape. I saw the yoke Of her two breasts athwart the opening Of her fair layna; and of them I spoke Those words; and when she answered me, she meant She is so strictly guarded that no man May come unto that plain, but him who slays As many as one hundred at each ford Between Ollbinni and the Boyne. No man May come unto that Plain but him who leaps The hero’s salmon-leap o’er the three ramparts That fortify the doon; and who—that done— Meets her three brothers, Ibbur, Skibbur, and Catt, And slays the eight each brother has with him; But in such wise that not a blow may reach Or hurt those brothers. Finally, she said, In way of prophecy, that I shall fight Incessantly and all alone against Great odds, from Sowin unto Balt-thana, Ere I shall find my time to pass the Boyne And journey south to win her. So good Laeg, Thou seest now all that I must needs perform Ere I can wed the maid.” Cucullin so Went driving on his way. In Avvin Maha, His cheerful travelling done, he slept that night. BOOK VII BOOK VII Now (said Faerdeeah, as he told his tale) Their daughters told those brewies and those lords Of land, who dwelt around the doon of Forgall, About that youthful warrior, who had come In his resplendent chariot, and had talked Upon the green with Emer. What the two Had said, these said they knew not; but they knew That he had turned to northward o’er Moy Bray On taking leave of them. The brewies told That thing to Forgall. “It is true,” said Forgall. “It was the Ree-astartha who came there From Avvin Maha; and the maid has yielded Her heart-affection to him. Therefore talked they. Yet it shall not avail them. I by craft Will balk them; so that that which they desire Shall not be gained by them.” Then Forgall Mona Called to himself two of his own sure folk, And told them all his plan; whereon, they three Featly arrayed themselves in foreign raiment, And crossed Moy Bray and grass-green Moy Mweerhevna, And wild Slieve Foo-id; and they fared to Avvin As though they were a Gaulish embassy, Bringing sweet wine of Gaul and costly gifts To Conor from the Gaulish King. Great joy And welcome greeted them. On the third day, At banqueting, it chanced that Conall Carna, Cucullin, and the champions all of Ulster, Were praised in Forgall’s presence. Then he said: “That praise is just. The method of their feats Is wonderful; yet if your bright and gifted And much-beloved Cucullin were to go To Domnall, the great warrior on the Alps, There to be trained by him, his feats would be E’en the more wonderful; and if thereafter He were to reach to Scawtha, who is daughter To Airdgama, a king in Scythia, there By that fierce warrior-woman, that renowned Preceptress of the heroes of the east, To be well taught, he—gifted as he is— Would soon excel the warriors of all Europe.” Cucullin said that he would go. He vowed He never would return to Avvin Maha Till he had learnt from Domnall and from Scawtha All which they had to teach. And Conall Carna And Laery the Victorious said they too Would go to get that training, and began To make them ready for that long, hard travel. Forgall took courteous leave of Conor, and went To his own house. Now for this cause and reason Forgall had spoken so: he thought Cucullin, Being in training with that warrior-woman, Namely, with Scawtha, through her well-known hardness And her severity and battle-wildness, Would get his death; and so would ne’er return Again to Avvin Maha. Ere he went, Cucullin rode across Moy Bray to visit The maiden once again. Beyond the Boyne, Beyond the bounds of Ulster, on the plain Of rich Loolohta Loha, nigh the sea, He spoke with her at night-fall; and she told him That it was Forgall who in smooth-bright Avvin Had urged his travel thus; and that he had urged it So that she—Emer, namely—and himself Never might come together. Then she told him To have much heed; for Forgall would send snares To be destroying him and breaking him On every road and land where he might go. Each vowed unto the other then the keeping Of chastity until that day should come When they should come together. And Cucullin Vowed that if once he should return with safety He straight would tell the maiden of his safety. The Enga, Conall Carna’s long-famed ship, Was waiting nigh that strand. Cucullin, then, And Emer daughter of Forgall, spake their partings; And o’er the bitter-green, salt, great-waved sea, O’er the green-sided and white-ridgéd billows, O’er the wild, treacherous currents and swift streams Of Ocean, the three friends fared on their way For distant warrior-training. Of their deeds Until they came to Domnall on the Alps, And of the feats which there they learned from Domnall (Faerdeeah said) I treat not. Dorndoll daughter Of Domnall afterward desired Cucullin. That damsel’s shape was vile. Her knees were big, Her heels in front, her feet behind, her eyes Inside her head black-grey and big. As black As is the side of a burnt, lonely ruin, After its burning by night-reaving foemen, Her face appeared; and round about her bulking Strong brow her earth-red hair wound in thick wisps. When he denied her, she vowed utter vengeance On him for that. She said unto Cucullin, He would not win his finished warrior-training, Till he should reach to Scawtha far in Scythia To eastward of those Alps. Thereon they three, Laery and Conall Carna and Cucullin, Fared eastward o’er the Alps; and it was then, E’en as they passed those places lofty, dreadful, Unfruitful, barren, hungry, perilous, That there appeared to them before their eyes Their smooth-bright Avvin Maha, plentiful In bright, melodious feastings and ale-banquets ’Mid lands of health and joy. Nor Conall Carna Nor Laery the Victorious then could pass That vision and appearance. Dorndoll daughter Of Domnall—it was she who had given that vision, So that Cucullin at it might turn back And win reproach and shame through his thus breaking That vow which he had made, to reach to Scawtha Or find his death; or—should he not turn back— So that he, being parted from his friends, Might the more surely find his death. Cucullin Of his own mind and will fared on alone Over the unknown ways; though, as he fared, He was sad, sorrowful, and very heavy For loss of his companions. And he knew not Whither to wend to reach the doon of Scawtha, And yet had sworn to reach the doon of Scawtha Or find his death. He lingered then some while; For he perceived his straying and his darkness. While he thus lingered for a while in darkness Of counsel, he espied, coming straight towards him, An awe-inspiring beast, dreadful and huge And lion-like. It came to him and watched him, And hurt him no-wise. On whichever way He tried to go, it came to him and met him, And turned its side to him. With confidence He sprang aloft then on to the beast’s neck, Letting it travel on each way it would; And so for four full days they in that mode Travelled, until at last they reached a land Where dwellers were, and saw there some young lads Rowing athwart a lake; and the lads laughed, Owing to the great wonder which was on them At that so harmful beast’s being in service So to a man. Cucullin leapt from it; And the beast parted from him; and he blessed it. He went then on the road he saw before him, And chanced on a great house in a great glen. A damsel very fair and shapely came Out from that house then; and she greeted him, And spoke his welcome. “Welcome is thy coming, Cucullin,” she exclaimed to him. He asked her How she thus knew him; and she said to him: “We two were friendly fellow-fosterlings With Ulbecawn the Saxon, at that time When we were learning from him melody And eloquence and poetry.” She gave him For maintenance of strength, then, drink and viands; And he went from her, wending towards his way. He chanced ere long upon an admirable Young warrior, who then also spake a welcome. They made exchange of tidings and of knowledge. Cucullin asked for knowledge of the way To the great doon of Scawtha. Then the youth Gave him the knowledge of the way. “It lies,” He said, “across the Plain of Evil there, Which widely spreads, upon whose hither half The feet of men will freeze, and will be frozen To the ground’s face; but on whose further half The grass will rise, and will impale men’s feet, Even as on a battle-field of spears.” That youth then gave a wheel unto Cucullin, And bade him follow it o’er the hither half Of the Plain of Evil. Then he gave an apple, And bade him follow it o’er the further half. And then he told him that beyond that plain He would discover a great valley-gorge, And through it one thin path; and all the gorge He would find full of horrors and of shapes, Of spectres and of loathly apparitions, Which had been sent, some by shrewd Forgall Mona, And some by incenséd Dorndoll, to destroy His courage and to be his end and ruin. Mounting the gorge, the path would lead him on Through high and strong and terrible regions: it, And it alone, would lead him unto Scawtha. Then the youth taught Cucullin how to win Respect and honour in great Scawtha’s house. They blessed each other. And Cucullin passed In safety o’er the perilous Plain of Evil, And through the spectred gorge, and through the high And strong and terrible regions. And he came To a wide green nigh to the doon of Scawtha, And saw bright bands of fresh and glittering youths, Pupils of Scawtha, playing at hurling there In mingled groups. He, after his long travel, Was tired and drooping, weak and hunger-worn. Now (said Faerdeeah, as he told his tale) Amidst great Scawtha’s pupils at that time Were certain youths from Erin. Six we were,— Faerbay the son of Baetan; and Faerbay Son of Faerbend; and Bress the son of Ferb; And Lewy son of Solmoy; and Faerdaet, A son of Daman; and myself, Faerdeeah, A son of Daman. And we six from Erin, Perceiving thus a youth from Erin come, Ran to him; and we each one, fervently, Gave him three kisses. And we asked of him Tidings of Erin for ourselves; and he, All weary as he was, asked for himself What arts of valour and what feats of skill We six had learnt. “We six have learnt,” I said, “To cross the Bridge of the Cliff, whereby men go To the seven-doored house of Scawtha.” Then he asked: “How long have ye been learning it?” We said: “We have been learning it three nights and days And one month and one season and one year.” “Youths, quick,” Cucullin said, “show me this bridge.” “It will not profit thee to see the bridge,” We said, “till Scawtha shall begin to teach thee Safely to pass it, as she taught us all.” “I would but see it,” he replied. Thereat We led him to the bridge. And thus it was: At one time when a youth should leap on it, It would put on the thinness of a hair, And the sleek smoothness of a long lake-eel: Another time it would rise up and grow E’en to the height of a ship’s mast. Cucullin Leapt on the bridge and fell; and leapt again And fell; and a third time he leapt; that time He reached the mid-part of the bridge, and there He wavered, and he hovered in mid-air Over the black lake-waters which it bridged. That now was seen by Ooaha, the daughter Of Scawtha from their seven-doored house, their high And rooféd stronghold; and she paled and whitened, And cried to her dread mother, Scawtha, crying: “My grief! a beautiful unrivalled youth Stands poised amidmost of yon bridge. He shakes And wavers toward a fall. I fear, indeed, That he will never more behold the land Of his dear father and his mother.” Scawtha, Her mother, warlike fighter and renowned Preceptress of the heroes of the east, Replied: “It was foretold to me long since That a fresh, child-like youth should come to us From Erin in the west. It was foretold That in one hour alone he would achieve The victory of the Bridge, which every other Only achieves after three days and nights And one month and one season and one year. And ’twas foretold that his great deeds of valour Would be related by the mouths of men Until the ending of the world. I think Thou seest that youth whose coming was foretold.” Cucullin wavered still upon the crest Of the Bridge of the Cliff. Then, nigh in act to fall, He leapt aloft his hero’s salmon-leap: He lighted on the island of the doon Of Scawtha, at the door of the huge doon Of Scawtha; and we six of Erin, pupils Of Scawtha, raised aloud our shouts of joy And wonder, at that passing of the bridge. Howbeit, notwithstanding this achievement, Great Scawtha placed Cucullin for a time Beneath her daughter Ooaha, to learn Amidst the youthful pupils. Ooaha Then spake unto Cucullin, and she said: “If thou wilt learn true valour, thou must go To Scawtha in the vast and antique yew Wherein she holds communion with her gods, Wherein she doth instruct her own two sons, Coo-ar and Ket. And thou must set thy sword Betwixt her breasts, until she promise thee Three wishes. Then demand of her to train thee Without neglect: to send thee with Faerdeeah The son of Daman to be taught by Weefa, The hardest woman-warrior of this world, Who in Great Greece abides: last, to foretell What shall befall when thou again shalt go To far-off, noble Erin.” Then Cucullin Obeyed her; and he leapt his salmon-leap Into the yew-tree; and he set his sword Betwixt the breasts of Scawtha; and he cried: “Death is above thee!” Then she said to him: “I give thee thy three wishes. Utter them In the one breath.” Thereat he uttered them. “Train me,” he said, “in arms and feats of skill Without neglect: then send me with Faerdeeah The son of Daman to be taught by Weefa, The hardest woman-warrior of this world, Who in Great Greece abides: lastly, foretell What shall befall when I again shall go To far-off, noble Erin.” After that Scawtha herself trained him to skill in arms; And—for that I was more in years than he— (Faerdeeah said, telling his warrior-tale) She placed him under me, to dress my spears, And to prepare my bed, and to perform A gillie’s service. We together practised All feats which Scawtha taught:—the apple-feat, The blade-feat, the small-javelin feat, the faen-feat, The body-feat, the rope-cord feat, the cat-feat, The chariot-hero’s rapid salmon-feat, The wielding of the chariot-driver’s staff, The leap across a fence, the “baw-ee brashee,” The red whirl of a finished valiant champion, The wheel-feat, the mouth-fury feat, the breath-feat, The warrior’s whoop, the furious counter-blow, The sod-blow, the swift running up a lance And poising of the body above its point, The feat of the scythed chariot. And we went Together amidst crags and through dark forests, And many wild and lone and desert places, Learning from Scawtha. And she taught us well. And ’twixt Cucullin and myself there grew Heart-friendship. Of one kindred and one tribe We seemed to be, so strong was our affection. Ere long great wars occurred. The foes of Scawtha Pressed on her densely. We went out with her Into hard battles; and we fought her foes. Howbeit, of these fights I tell not now. We fought the king of the great Snowy Land Which lay to northward. Then upon the south Fresh trouble came; and one day Scawtha spake Her words of rousing import. “Get ye ready,” She said, “to go unto the able battle, That will be fought against us on the south By cruel, battle-skilled, grey-haired Germanus.” Thereat Cucullin, who was ever daring, Spake unto me and to the son of Baetan, “Let us arise,” he said, “and gather men, And seize the fort of battle-skilled Germanus Ere he can give us battle.” So we went. We took with us four hundred fighting men Out of the Islands of the Athishec. We reached the doon which towers above the loch Of sparkle-bright Lind Format. On the beach I slew great Blawth son of red-sworded Calba. The son of Baetan slew a grim, fierce man, Mugarny of the Tyrrhene Sea. We reached The gate-way of the doon; and there Cucullin Slew Rind who guarded it; and I slew Rooad. We forced our way within: Cucullin slew Four fifties of strong fighters; and I slew Two terrible companies. We pillaged all The wealthy doon; and battle-wise Germanus— For all his plans and skilful strategy— We brought with us alive out of his doon That towers above the waters. To great Scawtha, With swift exhilaration and with triumph, We carried him a captive. And so Scawtha (Faerdeeah said, telling his valour-tale) Had trained us up in arms and feats of skill Without neglect. Cucullin and myself, She now, fulfilling so her second promise, Sent from her, therefore, to be taught by Weefa, The hardest warrior-woman of the world, Who in Great Greece abides. After long travel, We reached the doon of Weefa; and loyally And kindly Weefa welcomed us. She put us Soon to a sword-fight with her; and Cucullin Fought first; and straightway, with her weapon-play, She broke his sword, till what remained of it Was hardly longer than his hand. Thereafter She taught us all that wondrous weapon-play. She took us into battles and to combats. She led us on a dangerous expedition, Even to the Mountain of Armenia. Great The war-experience and the battle-knowledge We gained while thus we served her. Now, awhile, I leave to speak of these our deeds of arms (Faerdeeah said), and, instead, speak awhile Of things that chanced—I tell a truthful tale— In Erin here. While we two were with Weefa, An admirable man who was in Munster, And who is with you now upon your hosting, A king renowned, Lewy the son of Nōs The son of Alamac—a foster-brother Unto Cucullin—fared from the south-west, From Munster, taking with him twelve good chiefs Of Munster, to this end, that these might woo Twelve maids in Tara, twelve fair daughters, namely, Of Neea Faer the son of Ross the Red. Those maids, howbeit, had been all affianced Ere Lewy reached to Tara. Forgall Mona, Hearing of that, journeyed to Tara straightway. He said to Lewy that there was with him In rich Loolohta Loha nigh the sea, The maid who was the best of maids of Erin— The best for beauty and sweet voice and language, The best for chastity and for handiwork, The best for wisdom. Lewy said to him That that to him seemed well; and Forgall Mona Plighted his daughter, therefore, to that king; And the twelve daughters of the lords of land, Who dwelt around his doon—folk of Moy Bray— He plighted to the twelve good chiefs of Munster, Who had arrived with Lewy. So then Lewy The son of Nōs the son of Alamac, Went in one band and troop with Forgall Mona To Forgall’s doon in rich Loolohta Loha To have his marriage and bride-festival. The time, howbeit, when Emer was brought forth To Lewy, to the place in which he was, To sit at his one hand, she with her hands Took his two cheeks. “Upon thy truth of honour And truth of soul to me,” she said; and then She made confession that it was Cucullin Who loved her and who had her love. She said It, therefore, would be hot, face-reddening insult, And honour-violation toward Cucullin, To take her—whosoe’er should take her from him. At that, that king dared not then sleep with Emer: He feared Cucullin. Straightway he returned To his own doon and fort in the south-west. I now again (Faerdeeah said) set forth Cucullin’s own adventures. When—our time With Weefa in Great Greece being fulfilled— We journeyed to the Island of the doon Of Scawtha, again, and reached the seven-doored house Of Scawtha, we found there those five of Erin, Our comrades, and our friends, and our co-pupils: Faerbay the son of Baetan; and Faerbay Son of Faerbend; and Bress the son of Ferb; And Lewy son of Solmoy; and Faerdaet, My brother, son of Daman. And those five, Having fulfilled their training with great Scawtha, Were now in point to leave her: they were saying Their blessings and their partings. Then Cucullin Said he desired to fare back to Erin In company with those companions. Scawtha Spoke to him words of solemn warrior-import. “Thou shalt not go with them,” she said, “till I Have tied a hard, encircling fold and friendship About you all; so that the men of the world May never put you one against the other Unto a combat. For there is no danger That any other man in all this world Will cause you danger, unless danger rise From one of you against his fellow. Therefore, These are the gassa which I leave to you: If it shall be the better man of you, Who shall seek combat with the less good man, Then it shall be the better man of you Who shall be conquered; and, in the same way, If it shall be the less good man of you Who shall seek combat with the better man, Then it shall be the less good man of you Who shall be conquered. Let not one of you Transgress these gassa and this testament.” Thereat we gave our hands unto each other, So covenanting fulfilment of that league, Each toward the other, till the Breast of Doom. And then it was that upon me great Scawtha Bestowed a conganess, a horn-skin armour; And then it was that to renowned Cucullin She gave her dread Gae Bulg. No other man Of Erin has its like; and to him only She taught the wielding of it. After that Scawtha fulfilled her third great vow to him, Namely, to tell him what things should befall, When he, with all of us, should go again To far-off, noble Erin. And she sang, Through power of the Imbas Forosnai, These words to him, foreshowing deeds to come: “My strong affection to thee, welcoming, O Shield of Fury, Shield of Victory! I see, O Shield, thy hound-strong combating. Alone against rough, reaving multitudes, By Maev brought east with great hostility, I view thee, unsubdued, yet combating. On fords from Sowin unto Balt-thana, I see high heroes, huge, illustrious, Fall in death-pools, with thee, Shield, combating. I see thy three-day sleep—sleep wonderful: I see three fifties slain—deed sorrowful: I see thy Bressla More, red, terrible. I see thee lying, wounded, languishing: Erin contends in battle pitiless: The bive screams o’er that field, wild, ravenous. Thy fill of years is brief, ephemeral; But thy war-deeds men hold in memory, While Erin yet by waves is combated. My strong affection to thee, welcoming, O Shield of Fury, Shield of Victory! I see, O Shield, thy fame uncombated.” Well, after that (Faerdeeah said) we said Our partings and farewells. On that same night We started on our long and arduous travel, To our own land, to Erin. I relate One event only of that arduous travel. Toward summer’s end we reached the doon of Rooad, King of the Isles; and there were Conall Carna, And Laery the Victorious, gathering tribute And rent; for on those islands of the Gall There is strong tribute to the men of Ulster. Cucullin heard a sorrowing in the doon Ere yet he reached it. “Wherefore is that cry?” Cucullin asked. “The daughter of our king,” They said, “is being handed o’er as tribute To the Fomorians, to the Sea-plunderers, And therefore this hard sorrowing in our doon.” “Where is the maid?” he said. “Down on yon shore,” They answered him. Cucullin went from them, And came into the presence of the maid On the shore-sands. He asked of her her tidings; And the maid told that grief fully, completely. “Whence will the men arrive?” Cucullin asked. “From yonder somewhat distant isle,” she said; “And bide not here to face their violence.” Cucullin, notwithstanding, bode with her To face them; and he slew the three Fomorians With one-man valour. The last man of them Had wounded him, however, in his hand; And the maid wound a piece from her own raiment About his wounded hand. Cucullin then Went up to the king’s doon like every other: He had not told his name unto the maiden. The maiden came then to the doon and told Her father all that tale. Cucullin came Like every other guest; and Conall Carna And Laery the Victorious had great joy At seeing him; and much they welcomed him. Many a man within that doon then boasted Himself the slayer of those ocean-thieves; But the maid credited no whit his boasting. And then it was that the king caused a bath To be prepared; and every man in turn Was brought to it; and when Cucullin came, As each one came, the maiden knew him straightway. “I give my daughter to thee,” Rooad said; “And her bride-outfit I myself will pay.” “Not so,” Cucullin said. “After a year, Let her come after me, if so she will, To Erin; and I, ’midst my comrades there Will find for her a very noble consort.” After that hour (Faerdeeah said) we stayed Three nights beneath kind tendance in that doon, With banqueting. At ending of that time We put our hands unto our ships to sail Again to Erin. We put prow on shore On a North Ulster strand. We blessed each other, We comrades; and each one of us fared then To his own people, his own tribe and land. I (said Faerdeeah) fared to my own folk In Irrus Domnann in the west. Cucullin Fared to smooth, beautiful, bright Avvin Maha, Where was great Conor son of Fahtna Fahee, High-king of Ulster. There he told his tidings, And put his weariness away. And then—This (said Faerdeeah) I have heard from one Who tells true tidings—to his own bright doon, Doon Dalgan, next he journeyed, where he had, O King and Queen, some warning of these hosts And this your hosting. He with Sooaltim, His father—husband unto Dectora, His noble mother—rode then to the marches, And reached Ardcullin. While their steeds grazed there He made that spancel-withe, made from an oakling New-felled and twisted; and he cut the inscription In ogam; and he flung the spancel-withe Around the pillar-stone, so to delay Your hosts for one full night while he should go South o’er the Boyne to rich Loolohta Loha, There to tell Emer daughter of Forgall Mona How he again had come to noble Erin In safety from his travel. Sooaltim He sent with words of warning north to Avvin. And now (Faerdeeah said) I have related The tale I said I would relate. A thing There is, howbeit:—One of our battle-comrades, Faerbay the son of Baetan, said to me That Scawtha, one hour prophesying, said It was in Destiny, or that Cucullin Should fall by me, or else that I, Faerdeeah, Should fall by him. Therein the son of Baetan Reported erringly. It were a thing Not possible; for this I say to you: A dearer, truer friend I never found Than was Cucullin son of Dectora. Oh! he was half my heart, and I to him Was half his heart; and this I say to you: By my hard shield, by my ringed battle-shield, Were sword of mine to slay that valiant Hound, I would then thrust my dripping slender sword Through my own side, through my own breast and heart. Yea, by my sword, by my red battle-sword, Were I to slay that Hound of Moy Mweerhevna, I would be buried in his raised earth-mound, And the one stone should lie o’er him and me. By my war-spear, by my far-flaming spear, If any folk should come betwixt us two, And should incite me, so that I should slay him, I would then turn against that folk in fury, And they with all their armies should be slain. By my strong hand, by my trained hero’s hand, Rather than that in unjust battle-fight I should destroy that glorious, valiant Hound, I would myself be slain and thrown as meat To every wolf and every screaming bive. Faerdeeah ended so his warrior-tale Of all Cucullin’s training-up to arms By Ooaha, by Scawtha, and by Weefa Far in the East. Beside Ath Gowla still The Four Great Fifths of Erin stayed that night. BOOK VIII BOOK VIII The Four Great Fifths beside Ath Gowla so Remained that night; and so with histories, Recounting notable things, Al-yill and Maev With all the kings and chieftains whiled away The fore-part of that night. And if thereafter Upon the men of Ulster there was joy And gladness and delight of mind and spirit,— Upon the chiefs of Erin there was grief, Because they knew the youth who had performed Those things recounted would perform yet greater Before them in the land whereto they journeyed, The land of Cooley. When the glorious sun Next morn filled up with light each hollow glen Throughout the lands of Erin, Al-yill said: “Let us move forward.” Then they crossed Ath Gowla, And moved along through the long forest-pass. Cucullin went before them where they went. He felled an oak athwart the forest-passage Ahead of them; and on its side he wrote In ogam that ’twas gass on any man To go beyond it till some chariot-rider Should leap it with his chariot. The hosts pitched Their tents in front of it; and chariot-riders Went in their chariots to o’erleap it. Thirty Good steeds fell there; and thirty chariots there Were broken wretchedly. The Pass of Awny,— That is the name upon that pass for ever. They stayed there till the morrow’s dawning-time. Then Maev procured that Frae, the glistering, Strong son of Eedath, should be brought to her. “Help us, O Frae,” said Maev, “remove from us This strait and hindrance. Rise from us. Go forth, That thou perchance mayst fight and slay Cucullin.” Frae at that early dawning-hour went forth: He took with him eight others: he arrived Beside Ath Foo-id and descried the youth At bathing in the pure, cold river there. “Bide for me here,” Frae said then to his people, “While I myself go to yon man ye see. The water is not good,” said he. He flung His raiment from him then; and he stepped forth Into the ice-cold stream to meet Cucullin. “Come not against me, Frae, bright son of Eedath,” Cucullin cried to him, “for thou wilt die Thereby, and it were grief with me to slay thee.” “Against thee I will go,” Frae said to him; “Here in this snow-cold stream we two will combat; And let thy fight with me be fair and noble.” “Whatever mode of fight seems best to thee,” Cucullin said, “that choose thou.” Frae replied: “The arm of each, then, round his fellow’s body Is what I choose.” They wrestled a long time, With powerful grips each round his fellow’s body, There in that water. Frae was then submerged. Cucullin raised him to the air and said With courtesy: “I raise thee up again, O Frae, bright son of Eedath. Own thou now That I have won; accept thou from me now This sparing of thy life.” Frae answered him: “I own it not; and I accept it not.” Cucullin put him under once again, Until Frae died of that. His form was brought Out from the water to the river’s brink, Drowned, without life; and his own people bore him Away, till they had reached the camp and hosting. Ath Frae, “the Ford of Frae,” then, is the name Which has been given for ever to that ford Wherein Frae died. The camp and hosting all Cried out with grief for Frae the son of Eedath. Findabair daughter of Maev and Al-yill Wept in still grief, seeing him drowned and pale, And thinking of that beauty which he had That day when in his sparkling bright array He had approached to woo, and of the beauty Which was upon him on that other day When she herself had swum the dark-pooled stream To succour and to aid him. Soon the hosts Perceived a band of women, robed in innars Of pure grass-green, come to that drowned, pale form Of Frae the son of Eedath; and these drew him With them away into the green Shee-mound, Where, with her sister Boyne, his mother Baefinn Dwelt ’midst the deathless Shee. Then, with his chariot, Fergus the son of Roy leapt the felled oak. The hosts moved on until they reached Ard Ahad. Cucullin there slew six, six Dungalls, namely, From Irrus Domnann in the far-off west. And the hosts moved until they reached Drum Saulinn. There was with Maev upon that hosting then A little much-loved whelp: its name was Bashny. Cucullin, going before them where they went, Launched from his sling, from his cranntowl, a stone, Which, striking to the mid-part of their camp Upon Drum Saulinn, struck from Maev’s whelp its head. That Maev took very grievously. She said: “Great is the mockery and shame to you, O men, that ye do not pursue and hunt That wild deer of misfortune, who each day Is slaying some of you!” Then many warriors Fell to pursuing him and hunting him, Until at hunting him they broke the poles And hind-shafts of their chariots. And the hosts In the meantime moved on and reached Drum Keen. Cucullin, near by, there, in the red morn, At milking-time, heard from a holly-forest The sounds of breaking boughs. “Alas! O Laeg,” Cucullin said to his good charioteer: “It is too bold a mode in the Ultonians, If it be they who thus hew down their forests In front of the Four Fifths of Erin. Therefore, Wait here awhile, good Laeg, while I go hence To see who cuts the forests.” Then Cucullin Went to that place whence he had heard the sounds Of breaking boughs, and found a gillie there. “Who art thou, gillie, and what dost thou here?” Cucullin said to him. The gillie answered: “I am the charioteer to Orlam son Of Al-yill and of Maev; and I am cutting New holly chariot-shafts, because our shafts Were shattered yesterday while we were hunting That famed wild deer, Cucullin; and, brave youth, By all the honour of thy bravery, Help me to finish, lest that famed Cucullin Should come upon me here.” “Thy choice, O gillie,” Cucullin said, “shall I cut down the poles For thee, or trim them?” “I myself will cut them,” The gillie said, “for it is easier.” Cucullin then began to trim the poles. He took one by its upper end and dragged it Betwixt his toes and then betwixt his fingers, Against its branches and excrescences, Till he had trimmed, and shaped, and smoothened it, And polished it, so that not even a fly Could stay on it; and then he laid it from him. And each rough pole he in that fashion trimmed. The gillie looked at him, and said: “I think This work which I have given thee to do Is not thy daily work. Who, in all Erin, Art thou, O youth?” Cucullin said to him: “I am that famed wild deer, even Cucullin, Of whom thou spak’st at morn, at milking-time.” “Woe on me then!” exclaimed the charioteer. “I die by that until the Breast of Doom.” “Fear not, O gillie,” said Cucullin. “Never Slay I good charioteers or messengers, Or folk unarmed. But tell me in what place Thy lord is, namely, Orlam.” “At yon grave-hill,” The gillie said. “Go to him,” said Cucullin. “Carry him warning. Tell him to have fear. If I shall reach him, he by me shall fall.” The charioteer thereat went towards his lord. He took the nearest way through the dense forest; But howe’er rapidly he went, Cucullin, Taking a longer way through the same forest, Arrived more rapidly. He cut the head From Orlam son of Al-yill and of Maev; And, from the grave-hill since called Tamlaht Orlam, He toward the hosts of Erin brandished it. The hosts moved on until they reached Ard Keenaht. And then it was that the three sons of Aurac Came to the river-ford by high Ard Keenaht Against Cucullin. These, then, were those sons: Mess-Linny and Mess-Leea and Mess-Lahan. And Loo-an and Oo-al and Milhy were the names Of their three chariot-drivers. For this cause They went against Cucullin: it to them Seemed overmuch of action and performance,— That which Cucullin had performed against them On those preceding days; namely, his slaying Those sons of Renc, two foster-sons of Al-yill’s, Beside Ath Gowla; and his overwhelming Of Frae the son of Eedath; and his slaying Of Orlam son of Al-yill and of Maev At Tamlaht Orlam; and his brandishing That head in full view of the hosts of Erin. They meant to slay Cucullin in return, And of themselves to lift that sore oppression From the great hosts of Erin. To the woods They went, and cut there three white hazel-rods, And gave these to their charioteers; and then They went, the six of them, against Cucullin, Six against one, breaking the faith of men. Cucullin at the ford by high Ard Keenaht Slew four of them; but Lahan broke in flight To northward. With his chariot-driver, Milhy, He reached the Nith in Connallia Mweerhevna; And there his chariot broke. Ath Carpat, therefore, “Ford of the Chariot,” has since been the name Upon that ford. And Lahan straightway turned To face Cucullin who had swiftly chased him. He met him on the second ford hard by. He fell there by Cucullin; and Ath Lahan, “The Ford of Lahan,” since has been the name Upon that ford on the green river Nith. Now, on the shoulder of hill between those fords— Ath Carpat and Ath Lahan in the Nith— Laeg son of Reeangowra, charioteer Of famed Cucullin, fought the charioteer Of Lahan, namely Milhy; and Laeg slew him: Whence, Goola Milhy, “Shoulder of Milhy,” since Has been the name on that low eminence In Connallia Mweerhevna ’twixt those fords, Ath Carpat and Ath Lahan in the Nith. And that was “Laeg’s One Combat on the Táin.” The hosts moved on and came to Edon More. This was the time when from the far north-west, From fair white-foaming Assaroe, the harpers Of Keenbili arrived, with will to gladden The hosts with harping and with magic music. Because of friendship unto Maev and Al-yill These came; but it appeared to Maev and Al-yill That they were spies from the Ultonians. Wherefore, The hosts gave chase to them, till at Leek More “The Great Flat Flag,” those harpers went from them In shapes of swift, wild stags; for they were men Of druidism and great art and knowledge. This was the time wherein Cucullin promised That in whatever place he should see Maev, He from his sling, from his cranntowl, would sling A stone at her, which would not be far off From one side of her head. That thing was done. He, seeing Maev, cast from his sling a stone, Which killed her little bird on her one shoulder West of the ford. Maev crossed the ford; and then, He, from his sling casting a second stone, Killed her pet squirrel, which was on her shoulder East of the ford. And “Maeda of the Bird,” And “Maeda of the Squirrel,” are the names Upon those places, even unto this hour. This was the time wherein the men of Erin Deliberated and took counsel, planning At dawn upon the morrow to begin Their ravaging and laying waste and spoiling Of Meath and wide Moy Bray and Moy Mweerhevna Up to Cucullin’s country. In the presence Of Fergus son of Roy they planned; and then To Fergus came his fervent memory And sharp affection for his fosterling; And he began to warn the men of Erin To have much fear; and he began to praise His fosterling, Cucullin, and to praise His gifts and deeds, as he before had praised them Beside Ath Gowla. Notwithstanding that, The hosts upon the morrow morn began Their ravaging and laying waste and spoiling Of all those lands. A cloud of red-brown fire, Heavy, wide-spread, they carried o’er those lands; And Maev made sword-land of Mweerhevna. Then, With all their captives and their herds of kine, Which they had taken, and their preys and spoils, They drew together, and moved on towards Cooley. Cucullin, in the margin-land of Cooley, Upon a day, at midday, in a forest, Rested a little on his spear. His head Was on his fists: his fists were round his spear: His spear was on his knees. He rested so, And slept his sleep, until he heard a cry Coming right towards him from the north; and awful And fear-inspiring it sounded to him. Then he saw Laeg. “Whence was that cry, O Laeg?” Cucullin said to him. “From the north-west,” Laeg answered him, “upon the great highway Unto Kell Coo-an.” “We will after it,” Cucullin said. They went until they reached The Ford of the Two Magic Deeds; and there They heard the chariot-sound of chariot-wheels Sound from the side of Grellah Culgary. Ere long they saw one chariot before them; And one red steed beneath it; and one leg Beneath the steed; and the long chariot-pole Through the steed’s body, so that a thole-pin passed Through the pole’s end across his powerful forehead. A blood-red woman with two blood-red eyebrows Sat on that chariot; and her bratt and raiment Were all blood-red. Betwixt the two hind-shafts Her long, red bratt trailed o’er the earth behind her. Nigh to the chariot walked one big, large man Arrayed in red. He, with his hazel-fork, Was driving on one cow in front of them. “The cow rejoices not to be so driven,” Cucullin said. The woman answered him: “The cow pertains not to thee. She belongs To no near kinsman and no friend of thine.” “The cows of Ulster all pertain to me,” Cucullin said; “and why is it the woman Who answers me? Why is it not the man?” “He is no man,” the woman said to him. “He is Cold Wind, Reeds, Rushes.” “And thyself?” Cucullin said, “what is thy name?” She answered: “Keen-cutting Edge, Hair, Little Mouth, Hate, Horror.” “Ye mock at me,” Cucullin cried. With that He leapt on to the chariot. His two feet He placed on her two shoulders; and his dart He held above her crown. “Play not on me With thy edged weapons!” she cried out. “Then name Thy genuine name,” he said. “Depart from me,” She said, “I am a woman-satirist; And it was Dawra son of Feeacna In Cooley, who, in payment for a song, Bestowed on me this cow.” “Let us, then, hear Thy song,” Cucullin said. “Depart from me,” She said; “no more be trembling o’er me here.” Cucullin then went down; and she to him Sang a cheek-reddening, chafing, chiding song Composed in learnéd words. He understood; For he was trained and skilled in learnéd words; And, filled with ire, he made to leap again On to that chariot. Then he saw no chariot, No steed, no man, no cow, no blood-red woman With dragging, blood-red bratt; but saw, instead, That she, the woman with the blood-red bratt, Had now become one lonely carrion-bird, Red-mouthed and black, on a tree-branch near by. He comprehended then that he had seen That dread More-reega, daughter of Ernmas, queen Of heavy slaughters, who drinks up men’s blood, Who shrieks on high for pale-lipped carcasses, Dispensing her confusion, famine, battle, Betwixt the seas of Erin; and he said: “Had I but known that it was thou, O Queen, We had not parted so.” She answered him, Speaking in semblance of that carrion-bird: “E’en the small ill which thou hast done to me, Will cause thee ill, Cucullin. I had brought That cow, thou sawest, from a far Shee-mound To visit the Donn of Cooley: I was wending To that Shee-mound again. Because, Cucullin, Thou didst attempt to stay me on my way Thou shalt find ill. Thou shalt have cause to rue Thy deed to me; and thou shalt rue Maev’s Táin.” “How shall I rue this Táin?” Cucullin said. “For I thereby shall gain much fame and glory. I shall break mighty battles. I shall slay Their mighty men. I shall survive this Táin.” “How wilt thou gain thy glory on this Táin?” She said. “And how wilt thou survive this Táin? For when thou first shalt meet upon a ford A man commensurate with thyself in skill, I, in the shape of a lithe water-eel, Will wind around thy feet and cause thee there, Within that ford, unequal, death-sure combat.” “By all the gods by whom my people swear, I swear,” Cucullin said, “that I will bruise thee Against the grey rock-flags within that ford; And ne’er shalt thou obtain from me thy healing Till Doom, unless thou then shalt rise from me.” “I, in the shape of a starved, grey bitch-wolf, Will come,” she said, “and chase the startled kine Down towards that ford to overwhelm thee there.” “By all the gods by whom my people swear, I swear,” Cucullin said, “that I will aim A stone and break thy right eye, or thy left eye; And thou shalt ne’er obtain from me thy healing Till Doom, unless thou then shalt rise and flee.” “I, in the shape of a red, hornless heifer, Will come,” she said, “and guide one hundred heifers, Hornless and red, to trample through that ford Where thou wilt be; and thou shalt get thereby Unequal, death-sure fight. Thy head, Cucullin, Will be removed from thy curved throat that day.” “By all the gods by whom our Ulster swears, I swear,” Cucullin said, “that I will hurl A stone, and break on thee one hindward leg; And thou shalt ne’er obtain from me thy healing Till Doom, unless thou then shalt rise and flee.” After those words, the bitter-threatening bive Went from that place. Cucullin turned again Toward the same forest-watch whence he had come. ’Twas this same day that the great Donn of Cooley, Having around him fifty of his heifers, Came to the margin-land of Cooley. There He pawed and dug the earth in front of him. Then the More-reega, daughter of Ernmas, still In semblance of the flesh-consuming bive, The bitter-throated bird, flew till she lighted Upon the lofty boundary-marking stone In Tara of the land of Cooley. There She cried her words of warning and of pity Unto the Donn of Cooley; and she said, Addressing him: “O miserable one! O wretched Donn of Cooley! Hear my words. Have fear! The men of Erin come to hunt thee. Maev the daughter of Yohee Fayla comes To hunt thee, and to capture thee, and bind thee. Great her desire and her longing for thee! Have fear! Hear warning! Flee, O bull of Cooley!” The Donn of Cooley, then, with fifty heifers, To the black, hidden Corrie of Glen Gatt In Cooley, went into retreat and hiding. Cucullin, in the salt and marshy flats Of Connallia Mweerhevna in those days Slew no one. On the low foot-hills of Cooley, In his own natural country, he awaited Those hosts of Erin. Then Maev told her people To make a shed of shelter. With their shields Over their heads they made a shed of shelter; So that Cucullin from the little knolls, And smooth and plain-topped hills, and rising hills, Might not achieve their shooting. And Cucullin Achieved no shooting of the men of Erin Along those fore-shores or around the knolls And hillocks of the margin-land of Cooley Upon that day. In Raeda Loha, then, In Cooley, the Four Fifths of Erin set Their rest: ’twas there they made their camp that night. That night Cucullin with his charioteer Moved on beyond Glass Crond, a rapid stream Of Cooley, his own natural country. There He called to the quick mountain-streams of Cooley. He said: “I supplicate the river-streams, That they for me may fight. I supplicate The torrents and the waters of my country. I call to my Glass Crond.” The men of Erin Moved on next day until they reached Glass Crond. They sought to pass it. Then that river rose And fought against them. And it swelled, and grew Into the tree-tops; and it spread, and swept One hundred of their battle-chariots down Its rapid-waved, wild inver; and it whelmed them In the deep-drowning sea. And none could cross That river on that day. Next day Maev said To her own people that some man should go To prove the river. At those words a man Of huge, tall bigness, one of Maev’s own people, Rose to achieve that. Oola was his name. Upon his back he put a flag of stone For firmness; then he went to prove the stream. Then the stream hurled him down and made him dead, Deprived of life, the stone being on his back. Maev told her folk to lift him forth again And dig his grave-mound and erect his flag. His grave-mound and his flag beside the way Nigh to Glass Crond are to be seen this hour. After that death the Four Great Fifths of Erin, Because they could not pass Glass Crond, went up, Coasting the stream, until they reached the place Where the stream issued from the mountain. Closely Cucullin on that journey followed them; And, from the other side of the same stream, With his cranntowl shooting at them, he slew One hundred fighting-men of them; and slew Amidst those fighting-men, both Raen and Roy, The two historians of the Táin. Arrived Beside the well whence the stream issued forth, The people wished to pass between the well And mountain, and descend the vale again. But Maev allowed that not; for it to her Seemed well to leave her track upon that mountain Till Doom, to be a shame and a reproach To the Ultonians. Therefore they camped there Three days and nights, and dug the ground before them, Digging a pass across that mountain-ridge To be a lasting shame and strong disgrace To the Ultonians. “Barna Tána Bo,” That is the name upon that mountain-pass Since then; because it was across the mountain That the hosts passed. They passed, and so came down To Findabair of Cooley. There the hosts Divided, and they set the land in fire And flame, and gathered what there were of women And boys and maids and kine in mountainous Cooley, Till they were gathered all at Findabair. Then Maev surveyed each prey and prize and spoil. “It is not well that ye have gone,” said Maev. “The Donn of Cooley is not with you here ’Midst your great spoil.” “He is not in the spoil,” All said. And then Maev’s cowherd, namely, Lohar, Was called to Maev. “Where is the bull?” said she, “Know’st thou, perchance?” “I fear to tell,” he answered. “E’en as we came nigh to this land of Cooley, He, with three twenties of his heifers round him, To the black hidden Corrie of Glen Gatt In Cooley went into retreat and hiding.” “Rise ye,” said Maev. “Between each two of you Carry a withe.” They did that (and from that That glen is called “Glen of the Withes,” Glen Gatt). They found the bull, and drove him forth with triumph Until he was in Findabair of Cooley. In which place, seeing Maev’s own cowherd there— Lohar, to wit—the bull repaired to him. He brought the entrails and the inward parts Of Lohar out on his high, lofty horns. With all his heifers he attacked that camp In Findabair till fifty fighting-men Had fallen and died. He went from them, then, straight Out of the camp and doon in Findabair; And not a man of all the men of Erin Knew whither he had gone. These things to them Seemed shame and taint, dishonour and disgrace. To the wild desert woods around Slieve Gullion It was that the great Donn of Cooley now Had gone from them to new retreat and hiding. The hosts moved on, driving their prey and spoil, Which they had taken. At Glen Taul that night They made their camp and fort. That glen is called Glen Taul, because of the abundant milk Yielded that night to all the hosts of Erin By the great flocks and herds which they had taken. The hosts next day moved on until they reached Glass Colpa, a swift mountain-stream of Cooley. Glass Colpa rose against them; and it swept One hundred of their battle-chariots down Its rapid-waved, wild torrent, till it lost them In the deep-drowning sea. They skirted Colpa Up to its spring, even to Bally Al-yone, And slept that night at Leessa Leek,—so called Because of the enclosures for their calves Which they constructed in that place that night. Next day the hosts moved on. As they moved on A thing occurred touching the sword of Fergus, Occurring as hereafter follows. Al-yill Early that day said to his charioteer, Namely, Faer-lōga: “Go from me, Faer-lōga! Discover Maev and Fergus. It with me Seems well to have some new memorial And index of their union and their friendship.” That charioteer rose forth. He found the queen, The daughter of Yohee Fayla, and great Fergus, Where that pair stayed behind in a fair brake The while the hosts moved on. The two heard not That spy beside them. Now, the sword of Fergus, His Calad-colg, his musical sword, which Leddy Had brought one time out from the magic Shee, And had bequeathed to Fergus—that curved sword, Which was a flaming candle, and whose voice Was sweeter than the sound of pipes of gold When played at evening in a royal house— Lay nigh him in that place wherein he lay Companioned by great Maev. Faer-lōga drew That sword from out its sheath, and left the sheath Empty and void not far from Fergus there. He went to Al-yill. “Is it so, indeed?” Said Al-yill. “It is so,” Faer-lōga said. “Here is the token.” “That is a good token,” Said Al-yill; and they smiled each at the other. “For her ’twas right,” said Al-yill. “’Tis for help On this her Táin that she hath done it. See Now that the wondrous sword be kept by thee Bright and well polished. Put it ’neath the seat Of my own chariot with a cloth of linen Folded about it there.” Fergus rose up Ere long, and made to don his sword again. “Alas!” said he. “What is thy grief?” asked Maev. “’Tis an ill deed that I have done to Al-yill,” He said; “and bide thou here while I go up Into yon wood; and wonder not at all, Though it be long till I come back.” Maev knew not That he had lost his sword. Fergus went up Amidst the trees, and took with him the sword Of his own charioteer. He made a sword Of wood amidst those trees, and thrust that sword Into his empty sheath. “We will go on Now to the hosts,” he said. And they went on To the great hosts of the Four Fifths of Erin. The hosts that day passed over swift Glass Gatlig. Glass Gatlig it was called because with gads And withes and ropes and cords they dragged their kine And brought their calves across it. After that, On steep Drumenna in the border-land ’Twixt Connallia and Cooley they that night Encamped. They made a very strong encampment. Fergus was called that night to play at feehill With Al-yill in his tent. He went; and Al-yill Laughed at him railingly. Fergus was wroth; But Al-yill said: “Be not wroth, then, O Fergus; For welcome is thy coming. Sit thou down. We will play feehill here and boo-an-bac.” Fergus sat down, then, in the royal tent; And the two played at feehill on a board Of bronze: of gold and silver were the men. The hour the cloudy shades of night came down, Cucullin, from Slieve Fauhan very near The hosts of Erin, with his strong cranntowl Began to hurl his sling-stones at that camp On cragged Drumenna; and all night he hurled; So that before the light of rising-time Upon the morrow, he had slain one hundred Firm fighting-men from ’midst the men of Erin. And all the hosts at light of rising-time Were dulled and deadened by their apprehension And fear and dread and terror of Cucullin. Maev at that early dawning-hour then spake To Feeaha the son of Conall Carna Of Ulster, who was kinsman to Cucullin. She bade him go to seek Cucullin out, And offer terms. “What terms?” said Feeaha. “Not hard to tell,” said Maev; “indemnity For aught of his that we have spoiled or taken: A feast in Croohan for him never-ending: Wine and sweet mead there to be poured for him: And he to come into the warlike service Of Al-yill and myself; for I myself Am, in real power, the sovereign of all Erin; And so, to serve me would advantage him More than his serving of that minor lord Whose he now is.” (Now this, by the Ultonians, Has been accounted ever as the saying Most mirth-producing, droll, and laughable, That e’er was spoken on the Táin,—Maev’s making “A minor lord” of that renowned great ruler Over a Fifth, who was the best in Erin, Namely, of Conor son of Fahtna son Of Ross the Red-haired son of Rury More.) Feeaha went upon that embassy. Cucullin welcomed him; and Feeaha Related all Maev’s terms. Cucullin said: “I will not change the brother of my mother For e’er another sovereign. But let Maev And Fergus come to-morrow to Glen Fauhan, And meet me there in the red light of morning, And I will speak with Maev.” Then Feeaha Went with these words back to the men of Erin. So the next day in the red light of morning Fergus and Maev went down into Glen Fauhan To meet Cucullin. And across the glen Maev looked upon Cucullin; and her mind Tortured her greatly on that day, because No more than a fair, adolescent youth He seemed to her to be. “Is yonder one,” She said, “that wonderful, renowned Cucullin Of whom ye speak, O Fergus?” But on Fergus A silence had fallen. In his breast there grew His pain of sharp affection while he viewed, For the first time, the little tender lad, His fosterling, whom he had left in Avvin Many long years before, and who had come Now to his seventeen years. “Well, let Cucullin Be spoken to by thee,” Maev said. “Not so,” Fergus replied. “Let him be spoken to By thee thyself; for there is little distance Betwixt you here across the glen.” Maev then Spake to the lad herself. She said to him: “Thou young Cucullin son of Dectora, Featful swift hound of Cooley and Mweerhevna, I offer thee complete indemnity For aught of thine that we have spoiled or taken: A feast in Croohan for thee, never-ending, With wine and mead there to be poured for thee, If thou wilt come into the warlike service Of Al-yill and myself, and leave the service Of him whom now thou servest.” Thus said Maev. Over the glen Cucullin answered her: “O most proud Maev daughter of Yōhee Fayla, I will not change the brother of my mother For e’er another sovereign in all Erin. I will not stay from you my strong cranntowl, Unless ye will restore to me all women Whom ye have taken in this realm of Ulster. I will not stay my terrible cranntowl, Unless ye will restore to me, not only The kine of my own lands, but all the kine Which ye have taken in this realm of Ulster. For all the folk and all the kine of Ulster Pertain to me on this your great Invasion; And for them all I here keep watch and ward.” Maev at these words had anger. “This,” she said, “Were far too much to give for warding-off The attacks of a young, tender lad.” In anger, Then, on each side, they parted from each other, Leaving Glen Fauhan. Maev and Fergus went Back to their camp and to the hosts of Erin. [Illustration: “MAEV AND FERGUS MEET CUCULLIN IN GLEN FAUHAN.”] BOOK IX BOOK IX The Four Great Fifths of Erin kept their camp On cragged Drumenna yet three days and nights. But there no tents or booths were placed for them: No pleasant food or ale was served to them: No music and old lays were sung to them: They had no banqueting or mirth. For nightly, The hour the cloudy shades of night came down, Cucullin, from Slieve Fauhan, very near Those hosts of Erin, with his strong cranntowl Hurling his sling-stones ’mid their people, slew One hundred valiant fighting-men of them Ere came the light of rising in the morn. Then Maev said: “These our hosts will not endure, And will not stay, Cucullin slaying so One hundred from us every night. And wherefore Should terms not now be carried to him? Wherefore Should he not be addressed from us?” “What terms Are these?” said Al-yill. “He shall have,” said Maev, “The milch-kine and the bond-folk, and shall stay His dread cranntowl from the Four Fifths of Erin, Leaving our hosts to sleep.” “Who shall go forth To carry him the terms?” asked Al-yill. “Who,” Maev asked him, “but Mac Roth, chief-messenger Of messengers of Erin?” “Nay,” Mac Roth said, “I have not the place-knowledge; and I know not Where I shall find him.” “Ask thou then of Fergus,” Maev answered him; “’tis likely that that knowledge Is with great Fergus.” Fergus said to her: “Not so, O Maev; I know not where he is; But there is one thing I think likely, namely, His being now ’twixt Fauhan and the sea, Letting the winds and sun be o’er his body, After his sleeplessness of night last night, While he was slaying and was striking down Your hosts, he all alone.” That thing was true In Fergus. In that night a heavy snow Had fallen, so that all the Fifths of Erin Were with that snow as one white, level floor. Then down between Glen Fauhan and the sea Cucullin came for sunlight and for wind, After his sleeplessness of night that night; And there he cast from him his seven and twenty Waxed, board-smooth laynas, which with cords and ropes Next his white skin were wont to be tied fast, So that his prudence might not go from him When his war-fury should rise up. The snow Melted for thirty feet on each side round him, With the abundance of the heat of body And war-glow of Cucullin; and the gillie Could not stay very near to him because Of the abundance of the battle-anger And war-glow of that champion, and the ardour Then in Cucullin, and the heat of body. “A warrior now comes near us, O Cucullin,” Laeg cried to him. “What warrior?” asked Cucullin. “He is a brown-haired gillie,” Laeg replied, “Wide-faced and beautiful. The bratt around him Is brown, distinctive. A short copper spear Secures that bratt; a profitable layna Is next his skin; and he has two barnbrogues Betwixt his two feet and the ground. He carries In one hand a white hazel club, in one A one-edged and tooth-hilted sword.” “O gillie,” Cucullin said, “those are the signs, marks, badges Of messengers. One of the messengers Of Erin, that is there, who has come forth To address me with a message.” In short while Mac Roth attained that place wherein Laeg watched. “Under what service dost thou serve, O gillie?” Mac Roth inquired. “I serve the warrior-youth Yonder, above,” said Laeg. Mac Roth came up Into that place wherein Cucullin was. “Under what service dost thou serve, O warrior?” Mac Roth inquired. “I serve,” Cucullin said, “Conor the son of Fahtna Fahee son Of Ross the Red-haired son of Rury More.” “Hast thou no nearer, more immediate service?” Mac Roth made question. “That,” replied Cucullin, “Suffices now, this hour.” “Couldst thou inform me,” Mac Roth went on, “in what place I might find That famed Cucullin, about whom the hosts Of Erin let from them an outcry, now Upon this hosting?” “What is to be said To him,” Cucullin answered, “may be said To me.” “I come,” Mac Roth said, “to address him From Al-yill and from Maev. I carry to him Their terms and war-conditions.” “What conditions Carryest thou?” Cucullin asked of him. “He shall be given,” Mac Roth replied to him, “The milch-kine and the bond-folk, and shall stay His dread cranntowl from the Four Fifths of Erin, Leaving the hosts to sleep. Not mild or gentle That thunder-shower feat is, which he pours Upon them each long night.” Cucullin said: “E’en were Cucullin here to hear these terms, He would not take them. For the men of Ulster, Being incited and attacked with satire, And hot, cheek-reddening insult and invective, Would slay their milch-kine to redeem their honour, If they possessed no dry kine; and, moreover, They would take up to them their bondwomen On to their beds, and would beget a folk Who would be bond-folk through their mothers.” Straight Mac Roth returned. “Didst thou not find that youth?” Maev asked of him. “I found,” Mac Roth replied, “An awe-inspiring, angry, glowing youth Between Glen Fauhan and the sea. I know not Whether he was Cucullin.” “Took he from thee The terms we sent?” “Nay, truly,” said Mac Roth; And he related to them then the reasons Why the terms were not taken. Fergus said: “’Tis he, indeed, with whom thou wast conferring.” “Let other terms be borne to him,” said Maev. “What terms?” asked Al-yill. “He shall have,” said Maev, “The dry kine and the free folk, and shall stay His dread cranntowl from the Four Fifths of Erin, Leaving our hosts to sleep. Not mild or gentle That thunder-shower feat is which he works Upon them each dark night.” “Who shall go forth To carry him the terms?” asked Al-yill. “Who,” Maev asked him, “but Mac Roth?” “Yea, I will go,” Mac Roth said; “this time I have the place-knowledge.” Mac Roth went forth then to address Cucullin. “’Tis to address thyself that I have come This time,” he said, “because this time I know Thou art thyself that greatly-famed Cucullin.” “What hast thou brought?” Cucullin asked of him. “Thou shalt be given,” Mac Roth replied to him, “The dry kine and the free folk, and shalt stay Thy dread cranntowl from the Four Fifths of Erin, Leaving the hosts to sleep. Not mild or gentle That thunder-shower feat is, which thou pourest Upon them each dark night.” Cucullin said: “I will not take the terms. The men of Ulster Will slay their dry kine to redeem their honour, For they are generous; and they will be Without dry kine or milch-kine. And, moreover, They to the querns and kneading-troughs will put Their free women, unto slave services And into bond-work. ’Tis not good with me To leave that plight in Ulster after me— Bond-maids and serf-women being so made Of daughters of the kings and chiefs of Ulster.” “Exist there, then, terms that thou wilt accept On this occasion?” “There exist such terms.” “Tell me thy terms,” Mac Roth said. “By my word,” Cucullin said, “’tis not I who will tell them.” “What then?” Mac Roth said. “If,” Cucullin answered, “There be amidst your doon one who can tell The terms I have, let him recount them to you; And if there be not, let there be no sending To address me any more with messages Of terms and war-conditions. For whoe’er He be who comes, his life shall here have ending.” Mac Roth went back. “Didst thou not find him then?” Maev asked of him. “I found him,” said Mac Roth. “Took he the terms?” said Maev. “He took them not,” Mac Roth replied. “Exist there terms,” said Maev, “Which he will take?” “He has terms,” said Mac Roth. “Related he the terms?” said Maev. “This, truly,” Mac Roth said, “was his word: not he himself Will tell the terms to you.” “What then?” said Maev. “If,” said Mac Roth, “amidst ourselves there be One who can tell his terms, let him relate them. And if there be not, let there be no sending To address him any more with messages Of terms and war-conditions. And one thing I here aver,” Mac Roth said, “though it be To carry him the sovereignty of Erin, It is not I who will go forth to him To find from him my death and final ending.” Then it was, truly, that Maev looked on Fergus. “What are these terms which that one asks of us, O Fergus?” Maev said. “I perceive no good, Even the least good, for you from his terms,” Fergus replied. “What are these terms?” said Maev. “A man,” said Fergus, “of the men of Erin Each day to meet him on a ford in combat; And, for such time as he shall be at slaying That man, to let the hosts move freely forth; But, when the man is slain, an obligation To be upon the hosts, with their great prey, To bide within their doon and strong encampment Till hour of rising next day in the morn.” “This is our conscience,” Al-yill said, “these terms Are slight and easy.” “What he asks is good,” Maev said to them. “He asks these terms,” said Fergus, “That so he may detain you here and hold you, With all your captives and great prey of kine, Until the Ultonians rise from their long Kesh, And muster all their hosts, and journey south, And grind you to the sand and earth and gravel. And it is wonderful to me,” said Fergus, “Their being so long at rising from that Kesh.” “We take the terms,” said Maev. “We deem it lighter Daily to lose from us one man than nightly To lose from us one hundred. And, moreover, There will be one amongst our battle-champions And battle-chiefs, who, meeting in a combat That slight, unbearded youth, will by his strength O’erthrow him, and so clear us of this strait.” “Who,” Al-yill said, “shall go to bear these terms, And to relate them to Cucullin?” “Who,” Maev asked of him, “but Fergus?” “Nay,” said Fergus, “Not so. I will not go till there is given A contract, with securities and sureties And warranties enough to bind you fast To keep the terms, and to bind him fast, too, To keep the terms.” “We accept that,” said Maev. And with strong pledges Fergus bound them down. His steeds were caught for Fergus, and his chariot Made ready; whereupon for Edarcool, A tender youth of Maev’s and Al-yill’s folk, A son of Feda and of Leth´-rĭny, His own two steeds were caught. “Whither,” said Fergus, “Wilt thou fare forth?” “I will fare forth with thee,” Said Edarcool, “to look upon the shape And figure of Cucullin.” Fergus said: “There is no wish with me that thou shouldst go, Albeit I hate thee not; but I am loth That thou and he should meet. Thou art a lad, Brisk, lively, gay, insolent, arrogant, Pert, overweening; and that other lad Is angerful, hot, ardent. And I think Some cause of anger will arise between you Before ye part.” “Canst thou, then, not protect me?” Asked Edarcool. “I can, indeed,” said Fergus, “Provided only that thou showest him No scorning and no disesteem.” They rode In their war-chariots then upon their way To reach that place wherein Cucullin was. Between Glen Fauhan and the sea Cucullin With his own charioteer, even with Laeg, Was playing at boo-an-bac. And not a thing Could pass there unperceived by Laeg, so true His watching was; and still each second game He won from his young lord, Cucullin. “Cucuc,” Said Laeg, “here comes a chariot-rider towards us.” “Describe him, then, good Laeg,” Cucullin said; And Laeg described him thus: “Larger,” said he, “Than is some heathy knoll, rising alone From out a grassy level, seems to me His noble chariot. Larger than the tree, Reverenced and old, that stands upon the green Of some king’s doon, appears to me the hair That curls and waves in golden bright abundance About that warrior’s head. A crimson fooan, Fringed and embroidered, folds him round: a spike Of graven gold secures it. In his hand He holds a wide, red-flaming spear. A shield, Carven, and compassed by a ridge of gold, He has; and a long sword-sheath, which for size Is like the rudder of some kingly vessel, Reposes on the huge and seated thighs Of that great, haughty warrior, planted there ’Midst of his chariot.” Then Cucullin cried: “Oh, welcome, ever welcome is the coming Of that belovéd guest! I know that guest. It is my guardian and my fosterer, My gentle, noble Fergus, who comes there. But, my good Laeg, as for the long, great sword, Great like the rudder of some kingly vessel, I have been told that ’tis a sword of wood, Which now fills up that sword-sheath of our Fergus.” “I see,” said Laeg, “a second chariot-rider Approaching us. To him it seems to be Sufficiency of joy and entertainment Merely to watch the prancing of his steeds, And the swift course they make across the land.” “That rider,” said Cucullin, “is some youth Amongst the men of Erin who comes hither To spy upon my shape, and scrutinize Each form and feature. For—thou knowest it well— I am much spoken of and talked about Amongst those lads beyond there, in their doon.” Fergus arrived, and leapt from out his chariot. “Speak,” said he, “art thou true and trusty towards me?” “Trusty and true I am,” Cucullin said, “O dear and welcome, ever-welcome guest! If a bird-flock shall come unto this plain, A wild-goose thou shalt have, with half another; If fish shall come into these river-invers, A salmon thou shalt have, with half another; And thou shalt have a drink from the sand-pools, And have thy fistful of green river-cress, Thy fistful of sweet sea-weed and sea-herbs; And if necessity be laid on thee To fight a combat, I myself will go To meet thy foeman at the danger-ford; And Laeg shall stay to watch and guard thee here, While thou dost take thy deep repose and sleep.” “Well do I know, belovéd fosterling,” Said Fergus, “how it stands with thee, and how These means are all the best thou canst command For entertainment of a welcome guest Now on this Táin. But I have come this time To bring a message from the men of Erin. They offer single combat. I have come To bind thee thereunto. Accept it, thou.” “I bind myself to that, my master Fergus,” Cucullin answered. And no longer time Their talk continued, lest the men of Erin Should say that Fergus had deceived, betrayed, And left them, for his fosterling and pupil. For Fergus then his chariot was prepared, And he rode back; but Edarcool remained Nigh to that much-famed lad, who there alone Defended Ulster; and he stared upon Each form and feature of that other lad, For a long while and a great space of time. Cucullin said: “What little animal Art thou observing with great care, O gillie?” “Thyself,” said Edarcool. Cucullin said: “The eye could swiftly make a circuit o’er it.” “That is what I observe,” said Edarcool; “Thou art not large. I know not anything For which thou needst be feared. I see in thee No overwhelming of a host, or cause For hate and horror and great dread. A shapely, Fair youth, thou art, I own it. Thou hast feats Sightly and various; but for counting thee Where fighters, warriors, and great battle-champions Might be—it is most true we should not count thee.” “I will not slay thee,” said Cucullin, “knowing The safeguard under which thou camest hither, Namely, the safeguard of my master, Fergus. I swear by all the gods of my own folk, Howbeit, that if ’twere not for that safeguard, It would now be thy cloven, scattered quarters Which would return from me to yon great camp Behind thy chariot-wheels.” “Provoke me not,” Said Edarcool, “and—for this wondrous contract, Which has been bound by Fergus on the hosts And on thyself, namely, a one-man combat— It will be I who, of the men of Erin, Will be the first to come to thee to-morrow.” Edarcool straight turned back. He took to talking Then to his charioteer. “Gillie,” said he, “An obligation is upon me truly To meet Cucullin at the ford to-morrow.” “Truly thou didst so vow,” the gillie said. “Howbeit, I know not that the thing so vowed Will be accomplished.” “Which thing were the better,” Said Edarcool, “to do the deed to-morrow, Or now, to-night, to do it?” “’Tis our conscience, Better to miss a victory to-morrow,” The gillie said, “than to win death to-night.” “Nay, turn the chariot round again, O gillie,” The lad said. “By the gods of my own folk, I swear that never till the Breast of Doom Will I again return unto the camp, Until I take the head from yonder lad, And show Cucullin’s head.” The charioteer Then turned the chariot once again, and turned Its left side towards the ford. Laeg saw that thing. “Cucuc,” said Leag, “there is the chariot-rider Who was here last.” “What of that, O my gillie?” Cucullin said. “His left board,” said the gillie, “Is now turned towards us, as he nears the ford.” “O gillie, that is Edarcool, who seeks A combat from me now,” Cucullin said; “And ’tis not well with me to slay him, knowing The safeguard under which he travelled hither, Namely, the safeguard of my master, Fergus; But there is on me, verily, no bond Or obligation to reject fair combat. Carry my weapons to the ford. Unworthy I should esteem myself, were he to be Down at yon ford before me.” And Cucullin Went to the stream, and straightway bared his sword Above his curved bright shoulder; and was ready, So, on the ford for the other lad to come. Then Edarcool arrived. “What dost thou ask, O gillie?” said Cucullin. He replied: “Combat with thee is what I ask and wish for; And thou art bound to grant it manfully.” Cucullin made a sod-stroke at the sod Which was beneath the feet of the other lad, Slicing the sod; and the lad fell supine, The sod being on his upturned breast. “Go now,” Cucullin said, “for I have given thee warning.” “I will not go from thee,” said Edarcool, “Till I have reached thee.” Whereupon, Cucullin Made with his sword an edge-blow, shaving swiftly The hair of that other lad from nape to brow, From ear to ear,—as though with a light razor It was he shaved,—drawing no drop of blood. “Go now,” he said, “Thou hast a two-fold warning. And I have made of thee a cause of laughter.” “I will not go from thee,” said Edarcool, “Till I have reached thee.” At which words Cucullin Struck at the armpits of the other lad, With his sword lightly; and the raiment fell From Edarcool; and his skin was not reddened. “Go now,” Cucullin said, “for I have given A proof of power.” The other lad replied: “I will not go, till I have taken thy head And trophies; or till thou hast taken my head And trophies.” “’Tis this last,” Cucullin said, “To wit, that I shall take thy head and trophies, Which shall be brought to pass.” Whereat Cucullin Made with his sword a crown-stroke from the crown Of Edarcool e’en to his navel; and made, Swift upon that, a cross-stroke through his navel, So that the three disjointed parts of him Fell to the earth in the one point of time. That was the downfall, then of Edarcool, A son of Feda and of Leth´-rĭny, A tender youth of Maev’s and Al-yill’s folk. Now of that combat naught was known to Fergus. And that was natural for him; since Fergus Never for aught looked rearwards o’er his back, At sitting, or at rising, or on travels, Or at departing, or in fights and strivings And battles—that thus no one e’er could say, That he in fear gazed rearwards o’er his back. The charioteer of Edarcool ere long Came up with him. “Where is thy lord, thou gillie?” Cried Fergus. “He has fallen,” said the servant, “Slain by Cucullin in the ford.” Full wrath, Swift, fire-fleet, sudden, leaped in Fergus then. “It was not fitting, truly,” he cried out, “In that unearthly sprite so to insult And wound me with regard to one who came Beneath my safeguard and protection. Turn The chariot for us, gillie,” Fergus said. “I will turn back now to address Cucullin.” The gillie turned the chariot; and they fared Back toward the ford, and saw Cucullin there. “What caused thee, thou uncouth, unearthly sprite,” Fergus cried out to him, “so to insult And wound me with regard to one who came Beneath my safeguard and protection?” Then, Cucullin fell down kneeling before Fergus; And Fergus, in his anger and hot wrath, Rode three times in his chariot past him. Kneeling And bowed, Cucullin cried: “My master, Fergus, By the good fosterage which thou didst give me, Say which would seem to thee the better, namely, I to take his life and his spoils, or he To take my life and my spoils? Furthermore, Ask his own gillie which one of us two Was sinful in what happened.” Fergus said, Looking upon the lad, his fosterling: “That which has happened seems the best to me.” Then Fergus tied a withy round the feet Of Edarcool, and round his cloven neck; And dragged him o’er the ground behind the steeds And chariot-wheels; and where the ground was rough, The cloven fragments parted round the juts And points of rock; and where the ground was smooth, They met again. And Fergus trailed them thus Across the sloping camp, up to the tent Of Al-yill and of Maev, and called aloud: “Here is your tender youth for you, and here The message that ye sent him out to bring!” And Maev came forth, and stood without the door Of her own tent; and there she lifted up Her voice of lamentation; and she said: “It seemed to us that this young hound was full Of life and ardour when he left the camp; And now, it seems to us, he did not leave it Beneath a true man’s safeguard when he left it Guarded by Fergus.” From great Fergus then Broke forth his chuckle of laughter. “How,” said he, “Should this mere whelp, this woman’s lap-dog, dare To approach that slaughter-hound, whom now the Four Great Fifths of Erin will not dare to pass, Or move beyond, to reach their native homes? Yea, I myself might deem it fortunate To escape thus safe and whole from out his hands.” For Edarcool his grave-mound then was made: His stone was set: his name was writ in ogam: His funeral-cry was wailed above him there. That night Cucullin stayed his famed cranntowl; And o’er the weary hosts came welcome sleep. BOOK X BOOK X A man of powerful bigness, excellent In shape and race, arose to attack Cucullin At milking-time next morn. This was Nathcrantil, A prowess-full man of Maev’s and Al-yill’s folk. He deemed it not worth while to bear his weapons Down to the pool; but thrice nine little spits Of holly, sharpened, singed, and burned, he took Down to the pool, wherewith to kill Cucullin. Finding the youth before him in the ford, He hurled a spit on him, whereat Cucullin Leapt in the air, and lighted very lightly Upon the upper end of the little spit, E’en as it struck into the ground. Nathcrantil Then hurled on him his second spit. Cucullin, Like any bird, flew from the first spit, lighting Upon the upper end of the second spit, E’en as it struck into the ground. Nathcrantil Then hurled on him his third spit; and Cucullin Flew to the third; and so from spit to spit He passed, until the last of those thrice nine Had been discharged at him: there were no more. It was just then that a long bird-flock came O’er the cleared plain hard by them; and Cucullin, Like any bird, went after them, that so They might not go from him, and that he so Might get his share of food for night that night; For fish and birds and deer-flesh on this Táin Were all he had to serve and nourish him. But this is what seemed plain now to Nathcrantil— Namely, that it was in a road of rout, Of flight and of defeat that thus Cucullin Had gone from him. He went upon his way To the tent-door of Al-yill and of Maev; And there he lifted his loud voice on high Like to the wave-roar of the sea. “That youth,” He said to them, “whom ye denominate ‘The most renowned Cucullin’ went from me In road of rout, of flight, and of defeat, At milking-time this morn.” Maev answered him: “We knew it would be true that when a hero And a good warrior should advance to him, That young, unbearded wildling would not stand For long before him. We see now ’tis true; For when a deedful warrior goes, the youth Fights not, but flees in rout and flight before him.” That thing was heard by Fergus; and to him ’Twas as his death-wound that a man should boast Of having made Cucullin flee. He said To Feeaha the son of Conall Carna: “Go, Feeaha, address Cucullin. Say From me that he was noble, generous, While he was bravely out before the hosts; And it were nobler now to hide himself Than to flee thus before one man of them. It is no greater shame to him to hide Than ’tis to others who are hiding now.” Feeaha, therefore, went to address Cucullin. Cucullin welcomed him. “Faithful to me I deem that welcome,” Feeaha replied; “But this time I have come to thee from Fergus. He says that thou wast noble, generous, While thou wast bravely out before the hosts; And it were nobler now to hide thyself Than thus to flee before one man of them; For ’tis no greater shame to thee to hide Than ’tis to others who are hiding now.” “Which man among you boasts?” Cucullin asked. “Nathcrantil, verily,” said Feeaha. “The feat which I performed upon his spits,” Cucullin said, “should have debarred that boasting. But do not Fergus and all chiefs in Ulster Know that I ne’er do harm to charioteers Or messengers or folk unarmed? Not arms Were with this man, but little spits of wood. I will not wound him till he brings his arms. Let him come down ’twixt Fauhan and the sea To-morrow, armed; and then, however early He comes there, he will find me ready there; And, verily, I will not flee before him.” Feeaha straight returned unto the camp. He told these words. It to Nathcrantil then Seemed long until the light of day should come Next day when he should go to attack Cucullin. At earliest light of dawning-time next day Cucullin rose after the watch of the night His anger came on him. In rapid anger He flung his bratt around him, and observed not The stone of rock which was beside him there; So that he flung his bratt around the stone, Plucking it from the earth; and it remained Between his body and his bratt. He knew not That he had plucked it, owing to that anger Which was upon him then. Nathcrantil came. His arms that day were carried on a wain, So many were they. Then he saw Cucullin, Who was transformed with ire and battle-rage. He knew him not. “Art thou indeed Cucullin?” He said. “And if I am?” Cucullin asked. “Then,” said Nathcrantil, “thou art more a warrior Than thou wast yesterday. Nevertheless, It would not be the head of a small lamb That I would carry to the camp to be My trophy; and I will not take the head Of any beardless boy.” “I am not he,” Cucullin said; “go to him round the hill.” Cucullin came to Laeg. “O Laeg,” he said, “Pluck up thy fistfuls of this winter grass, Which is brown-yellow, withered. Bind the grass Around my chin that I may have my beard; He will not slay me while I lack it.” Laeg Plucked up the grass, and made the beard, and then Cucullin met Nathcrantil round the hill. “I think that is more fitting,” said Nathcrantil, Mocking, disdainful; “but I now will fight thee. Take the right way of fighting with me now.” “Instruct me in the way,” Cucullin said. “When I shall throw a cast,” Nathcrantil answered, “Elude it not; but keep thy ground.” Cucullin Replied: “I vow that I will not elude it, Except by ascending.” Then Nathcrantil threw A powerful cast. Cucullin leapt a leap Into the air, ascending; and the spear Passed underneath him as he leapt. Nathcrantil Cried angrily: “Thou workest ill, thou wildling, Thus to elude my cast.” Cucullin said: “Elude my cast by ascending.” Then he threw A powerful cast on high, so that the spear Struck on Nathcrantil from on high, and struck The crown of his head, and pierced the bone of his crown. “Alas!” Nathcrantil said, “thou art indeed The best war-champion which there is in Erin. I in the camp have four and twenty sons. I will go tell them now what hidden riches I have; and I will come to thee again, That thou mayst take from me my head. I die If once thy spear be taken from my head.” “Good,” said Cucullin, “thou wilt come again.” Nathcrantil went to the camp of the men of Erin. Each one then came to meet him. “Where,” said each, “Is the head of the Ree-astartha? Hast thou slain him?” “Wait, heroes,” said Nathcrantil, “I must speak To my own sons, and then go back again To fight Cucullin at the ford.” He came Soon to the stream again. He cast his sword Against Cucullin; and the sword broke in two Against the stone of rock which was between Cucullin’s body and his bratt; and then Cucullin with his sword sprang at Nathcrantil, And took from him his head to be a trophy And war-memorial of this first combat Which he had fought with a great battle-hero Amidst the heroes of the men of Erin. The men of Erin then deliberated As to who should be sent from them the next To attack Cucullin; and all said that Coor Son of Daw-loath´ was he. For Coor was thus: A rough and bitter hero, very surly; And it was difficult to be with him In eating or in sleeping. All averred That should it be this Coor who should be slain, That would remove from them a sore oppression; Yet should it be Cucullin who should fall, That would be better. Then Maev sent for Coor. “Ye think my powers sure and wonderful!” Said Coor. “A youth like that one is too tender For such as I am. Had I known this thing, I had not come; but I had found a gillie Of equal age with him from ’midst my people, To go against him at the ford.” “O Coor,” Cormac Conlingish, then (the son of Conor), Said to him, “it will be a marvel to us If thine own strength avails to slay Cucullin.” “Good, then,” said Coor, “since on myself ’tis laid, Make ready to fare forth to-morrow morn Early upon your road. ’Twill not delay me For long to kill that little, young wild deer. I will prepare a clear, free road before you.” When the bright-lofty, fiery-blazing sun Arose next morn above the mountain, Coor Son of Daw-loath´ arose. He took with him A loaded wain of war-gear and of weapons, Wherewith to kill Cucullin. That same morn Cucullin very early fell to playing His various feats of skill which he had learnt From Oo-aha, from Scawtha, and from Weefa Far in the east. At rising-hour each morn It was his wont to play each feat of them, That so not one might ever go from him Into oblivion and forgetfulness. Coor for a third-part of the day remained Behind the rampart of his shield, expecting To kill Cucullin; and Cucullin ceased not The madness of his feats; and he observed not Coor who lurked there. ’Twas then Laeg said: “O Cucuc, ’Twere well to serve that man who is expecting To kill thee here.” Cucullin then was playing His apple-feat; and the eight apples rose And fell from hand to hand through the clear air, Like flying bees on a bright summer’s day. He, with the apple in his hand, then made A warrior-cast, which pierced Coor’s shield, and pierced His brow, and bore a portion of Coor’s brains Out through the rearward hollow of his nape. So at that ford Coor found his end of life-time. Fergus went up to speak with Maev and Al-yill. “Arrest your course!” he cried. “Make your camp here Till light of rising-time to-morrow morn. Then ye must find some other champion. Coor Son of Daw-loath´ hath found his end of life-time.” The Four Great Fifths of Erin rested then A little to the westward of Drumenna, And made their camp and their encampment there. After that day, for very many days, Even weeks of days, in combat with Cucullin Each day a warrior fell. Of the distinguished Men who fell so were Lath son of Daw-bro´, Srub Dawra son of Fedig, Bove and Cruthen, Nathcorpa, Marc, Maellia and Boguina. Howbeit, to tell the manner of the fall Of every separate man of these were tedious. After those weeks of days of daily combat, On that lone lad who there defended Ulster— On that Cucullin—there grew weariness, And wearing-out of strength, and hard exhaustion, By reason of the hardness of those combats And their great number; and he feared indeed That he himself, through that great weariness, Would fall in fight with some unwearied champion, Some fresh, unwasted man from ’midst those hosts. This was the time and hour wherein Cucullin Said to his charioteer, even to Laeg: “Go from me, Laeg; go unto yonder camp Of the men of Erin; bear interrogation To those who have a bond with me, my brethren In arms, my fellow-learners and co-pupils: Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra, Faerbay the son of Baetan, and Faerbay Son of Faerbend, and Bress the son of Ferb, And Lewy son of Solmoy, and Faerdaet A son of Daman. And bear, furthermore, His own interrogation separately To my own genuine foster-brother, Lewy The son of Nōs the son of Alamac, Who, when I was far distant, with regard To Emer daughter of Forgall, held in honour My honour. Bear to him my special blessing. Ask him, that he may tell to thee what man Will come to attack me at the ford to-morrow.” Laeg, at those words, went forth into the camp Of the men of Erin; and he took with him Interrogation to the fellow-pupils And comrades of Cucullin; and he went After that straight into the tent of Lewy The son of Nōs; and Lewy welcomed him. “Truly, I think that thou art faithful,” Laeg said. “Faithful toward thee I am indeed,” said Lewy. “I come,” said Laeg, “to address thee from Cucullin. To thee especially and separately He sent interrogation and his special Blessing, that thou mayst tell to me what man Will go to attack him at the ford to-morrow.” Lewy replied: “May the anathema Of all his friendship and his comradeship Be on the man who will go! It is Cucullin’s Own fellow-learner, brother-in-arms, and comrade, Faerbay son of Faerbend. A while ago He was convoyed to the wide, royal tent Of Maev and Al-yill. The maid Findabair Was placed at his one hand. ’Tis she who brimmed His drinking-horn. ’Tis she who gave a kiss With every draught she poured. ’Tis she who set Her own hands to his portion. Not for all Does Maev intend that wine which was poured out There for Faerbay; for only fifty wains Thereof were brought from Croohan.” Laeg went back, Grieved, heavy-headed, very sad, unjoyful, Sighing. Cucullin saw him, and he said: “’Tis heavy-headed, very sad, unjoyful, Sighing, that Laeg is as he comes. ’Tis truly One of my comrades and my fellow-pupils Who will come forth to fight with me to-morrow. Good, my good Laeg,” Cucullin said, “who comes To attack me here to-morrow?” Laeg replied: “May the sure malediction of his bond And of his friendship and his comradeship Be on the man who will come! It is thy very Own fellow-learner, brother-in-arms, and comrade, Faerbay son of Faerbend. A while ago He was convoyed to the wide, royal tent Of Maev and Al-yill. The maid Findabair Was placed at his one hand. ’Tis she who brimmed His drinking-horn. ’Tis she who gave a kiss With every draught she poured. ’Tis she who set Her own hands to his portion. Not for all Does Maev intend that wine which was poured out There for Faerbay; for only fifty wains Thereof were brought from Croohan.” “O good Laeg,” Cucullin cried, “return again to Lewy. Bid him come hither to this hill of Crannig, Here to have speech with me.” Lewy came there. “Is it indeed Faerbay son of Faerbend,” Cucullin said, “who will come forth to-morrow?” “’Tis he indeed,” said Lewy. “Alas! for that!” Cucullin said, “I shall not be in life After that combat and that meeting. Two Of equal age we are, of equal deftness, Two equal when we meet. And he is fresh, Not having fought, while I am worn and wearied By reason of the number of these combats, And watching here alone before yon hosts. O Lewy, greet Faerbay from me. Say this: ’Tis not true soldiership to come against me. Bid him come down beneath this hill to-night And speak with me himself.” Lewy went back. He gave Cucullin’s words; yet, notwithstanding Those words, Faerbay would not refuse the combat. When, then, he thus would not refuse the combat, Faerbay delayed not till the morn, but went At meeting-time of day with night that night, To address Cucullin, and to put away His league and his sword-friendship with Cucullin. And Feeaha the son of Conall Carna Went with him to the glen. Cucullin there, Meeting Faerbay, firmly appealed to him By the great foster-mother and preceptress Who had taught both of them, namely, by Scawtha, Preceptress of the warriors of the east; And still Faerbay would not refuse that combat. When, then, Faerbay would not refuse the combat, Hot ire, fire-fleet, vehement, very sudden, Laid hold upon Cucullin. “Then, Faerbay,” He cried, “recant thy league and thy sword-friendship.” And he moved off from him in rage and anger. As he was going, then, up the rough, dark hill, Sharply he trod on a sharp holly-shoot, Which pierced the sole of his foot, and bathed itself Amidst his skin and blood and bones. He dragged it Out from his sole, and dragged it from its roots, And shouted to Faerbay: “Go not, Faerbay, Till thou hast seen this find which I have found.” “Throw it,” Faerbay said; and Cucullin threw Over his shoulder backward the sharp spike Which had been bathed in the blood and flesh of his foot. It was one thing to him whether it reached Faerbay or reached him not; and he looked not Behind him once to know whether it reached. That missile struck Faerbay in his hollow nape, And issued ’twixt his lips to the ground. Whereat, Feeaha son of Conall Carna shouted— “Mah thra an faughard” (Good is the cast indeed). He thought it wonderful that one should slay A champion with a little holly-spine. Faerbay son of Faerbend died there that eve Within that glen beside the height of Crannig. Something was heard. Fergus it was, who sang With hatred and great scorn and joyfulness: “Truly, Faerbay, foolish thy journey was, Unto this glen where now thy grave shall be. Death and last end have reached thee in this place, Where thou didst put from thee thy friendship-vow. And Faughard now (The Cast) shall be the name On Crannig, yonder high, rough-sided hill, Whence that good cast of the holly-shaft was made. And Glen Faerbay shall be the undying name On thy death-glen, where now thou liest, Faerbay.” At morn Cucullin sent his charioteer, Laeg son of Ree-angowra, unto Lewy, That he might ask whether Faerbay still lived, And whether he was coming to that combat, Which he had vowed to fight. Then Lewy said: “A blessing on the hand which served that service! Faerbay fell dying down in yon glen last night.” When Laeg had fared to his own lord again, Lewy went up to the tent of Maev and Al-yill. “A man of you to go against that other!” He cried; then went to his own tent again. Then Maev devised a plan. “Listen, O Al-yill,” She said; “upon this Táin with yonder Lewy The son of Nōs the son of Alamac There is a brother. He is a young youth, Unwise, weak, childish, vain, puffed, insolent. We will caress him, till, enticed by us, He shall go down to the ford to fight Cucullin. He will be slain; whereon that hero, Lewy The son of Nōs the son of Alamac, Despite his foster-friendship for Cucullin, Will be compelled by honour to go down And slay Cucullin to avenge that brother. Lewy, we think, indeed, can overcome him.” “The plan is good,” said Al-yill. That same night That youth they spoke of, namely, Laeriny The son of Nōs the son of Alamac Was summoned to their tent. His satisfaction And glorying in that honour which Maev showed him Were very great. The maiden Findabair Was placed at his one side. ’Twas she who brimmed His drinking-horn. ’Twas she who gave a kiss With every draught she poured. ’Twas she who set Her own hands to his food. Maev said to him: “We give thee this, thou hero Laeriny: It is the last of the wine we brought from Croohan.” “What art thou saying there, O Maev?” said Al-yill, Speaking as though he knew not Laeriny. “I am addressing that man there,” said Maev. “Who is the man?” said Al-yill. Maev replied To Al-yill, speaking so that Laeriny Should hear the words she said: “Often, O Al-yill, Thou hast bestowed thy care on things unfit. ’Tis fit that thou shouldst now bestow thy care On yonder couple who have greater beauty And worthiness and pride than any couple On any road in Erin,—Findabair, I mean, and Laeriny.” “Yea,” Al-yill said, “I see them so. That union would be fitting. I will not hinder it, if he but bring Here to the camp the head of the Ree-astartha.” It was then, in his joy, that Laeriny Gave to himself a bending and a shaking, So that he broke the seams of the quilted cushion Which was beneath him; and the grassy green Was sprinkled with its feathers. It to him Seemed that it would be easy to o’ercome The Ree-astartha, and to take his head, And bring that head to Al-yill. It to him Seemed long until the light of day should come, When he should go to combat with Cucullin. Lewy went down that night to address Cucullin. They met in Glen Faerbay. Each one of them Welcomed the other. “I have come,” said Lewy, “To tell thee of my brother, Laeriny, Who comes to meet thee at the ford to-morrow. He is a youth, young and unwise and weak And insolent and vain. And for this reason It is that Maev has put him to this combat:— That when thou shalt have slain him, I may go To avenge my brother. I will never go Until the Breast of Doom, because he goes In violation of my truth and honour. Nevertheless, because of the great friendship Between thyself and me, my friend Cucullin, Slay not my brother.” In the early morn, At the red-glorious light of rising-time, Laeriny fared unto the battle-ford, To meet Cucullin. To the battle-heroes And warriors of that camp it seemed unworthy To go to watch that combat: only women And lads and maidens went. Cucullin came Then to the ford: to him it seemed unworthy To bring his weapons. He met Laeriny. He took from Laeriny his battle-weapons Out of his hands, as one would take play-weapons Out of the hands of a young child. He rubbed And bruised him ’twixt his own hands, then, and shook him, And hurled him from the mid-part of the ford To the green bank; and he was borne away Fainting and bruised up to the door of the tent Of his brother Lewy. He was the only man Who had retained his life after a combat Fought with Cucullin on that Táin; and never From that day till his death was Laeriny Without the grief of illness, or without Trouble of chest, or without being borne On horseback in his sickness and his pain. When Maev was told of that escape, annoyance Grew in her, for that her keen plan had failed; And her mind tortured her because not yet Had she found one to overthrow Cucullin. That night she sent for all the kings and princes Who were upon that hosting; and she said: “Whom shall we now send forth to assail this youth? There is none other of his friends and comrades Who will consent to violate his bond.” Whereat all said: “Except his friends and comrades, Throughout the expanse of Erin of wide compass We know of none able for that hard combat, Except two men alone; and, of these, one Is Cooroi son of Dawra, who hath reddened His sword in distant lands; and one is Lōk The son of Emonis, who years ago Was taught in Scawtha’s land, and who, even like Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra, Owns a tough conganess, a horn-skin armour, The gift of Scawtha ere he left her land; And neither sword nor spear will pierce that armour.” Now there was present in the tent a man Of Cooroi’s folk from the far-off south-west, Who said: “Great Cooroi will not come. To him, Truly, it seems enough to have sent this number Of his own household folk to help the hosting.” After that conference, then, and that prime-council, Maev sent for Lōk the son of Emonis—For Lōk the Great—who like Cucullin himself Had been trained up to arms far in the east. Lōk came; and Maev besought him, promising Land on Moy Wee equal to Moy Mweerhevna, An outfit for twelve men of each right hue, A chariot costing seven powerful bondmaids, And Findabair to be his own one wife. And he esteemed it mean and unbecoming To combat with a gillie. “O Maev!” he said, “I will not go for combat with that youth, Who is tender, young, and without any beard. But I have one to meet him, that is, Long The son of Emonis, my brother. Give The same rewards to Long. He shall go forth To meet Cucullin at the ford.” Maev sent, Therefore, for Long the son of Emonis, And offered the same gifts and same rewards. He went next day down to the ford of combat. Cucullin slew him there; and his folk carried His body back to his great brother, Lōk. Then Maev incited Lōk to avenge his brother. Lōk hesitated still, and was reluctant; For he esteemed it mean and unbecoming To combat with a gillie. “O Maev,” he said, “I may not make that combat till the end Of seven days from this day.” “’Tis not fitting,” Maev said, “that we should be without attacking The hound for all that space. Therefore, each night, While we are waiting for thy conquering combat, We will send forth a party of night-hunters To hunt Cucullin and endanger him; And so we may, perhaps, arrest this peril.” That, then, was done. A party of night-hunters Went forth from Maev each night to hunt Cucullin; But every night Cucullin slew those hunters. These were their names: seven Oo-arguses, Ten Delbaes, seven Conalls, seven Keltars, Eight Feeacs, seven Anguses, ten Al-yills. Each of the seven nights a troop was slain. At the end of the seven nights Maev urgently, With strong persuasions and hard settings-on, Again incited Lōk to avenge his brother. She said: “O Lōk, great son of Emonis, Truly thou art a targe for mockery Unto that man who slew thy brother, and still, By thee unchecked and unopposed, inflicts Great harm upon our hosts! We deem it certain That a young, little wildling such as he Could not withstand the ardour and the power Of a proved hero like thyself. And yet, Because by the same warlike nurse ye both Were taught and trained, it is no shame to thee To meet him and thereby to avenge thy brother.” Then Lōk the Great the son of Emonis, Incited so, consented. He went down To meet Cucullin and to avenge his brother. “Come to the upper ford,” said Lōk, “Not here In this polluted ford where Long has fallen Will we decide our combat and contention.” They met in the upper ford; and then began Between Cucullin son of Sooaltim, And Lōk the Great the son of Emonis, Their powerful combat and their strong contention; And all who watched that combat and contention Were filled with dread and horror and much fear. This was the hour and this the point of time When the More-reega daughter of Ernmas came, Even as she had sworn that she would come What time Cucullin should engage a foe Commensurate with himself in warlike skill. Forth from the green-grassed Shee-mound, where she dwelt, She came; and first in form of a lithe eel Swam down the stream, and round Cucullin’s feet Wound a close, triple coil. Straightway he fell; And though with speed, like to the swallow’s speed Above a pool on a hot summer’s day, He rose and struck the eel and brake her ribs Within her, so that she released her hold— Yet in that point of time wherein he had lain Prone in the stream, great Lōk had dealt a blow, Gashing Cucullin’s side; and all the stream Was reddened with his blood. Again she came, In semblance of a starved bitch-wolf she came, Chasing the startled cattle towards the ford, To overwhelm him there. Cucullin aimed A stone and struck her eye, and turned the cattle Hillward; nor had his adversary time To wound him newly. But again once more The bitter-vengeful, dread More-reega came, And, shaped like a red hornless heifer, led One hundred red and hornless heifers down To overwhelm Cucullin. Swift he aimed A stone, and struck one of her hindward legs; And it brake under her; and then the Bive Vanished. But while Cucullin had turned round To cast the stone, great Lōk had dealt a blow And gashed Cucullin’s second side; and all The stream was reddened with his flowing blood. This was the hour and this the moment of time Wherein Cucullin called to his charioteer, Namely, to Laeg the son of Ree-angowra, To send him the Gae Bulg. ’Twas the first time He e’er had called for it; and ’twas because Of that tough conganess, the hornskin armour, Which great Lōk wore when fighting with a man, That he now called for that dread spear of Scawtha. And thus, indeed, was that dread spear of Scawtha: It would be floated down the stream, and caught And cast by the toes of the foot: a one-spear wound It made on entering a man; but thirty Sharp-wounding heads it had, which would spread out Within the man. The spear was floated down Swiftly by Laeg the son of Ree-angowra. Cucullin caught it with the toes of his foot, And cast it; and it pierced the conganess, And pierced Lōk’s heart within his breast. Lōk cried: “I ask one warrior-boon from thee, Cucullin.” “What boon?” Cucullin said. “’Tis no request For mercy or for safety,” Lōk said: “merely Retreat from me one backward pace, that now It may be forward, eastward, that I fall, Not backward, westward, toward the men of Erin; And so no man of them will say of me That it was in retreat and flight and rout That I fell by thee here; for I now fall By the Gae Bulg.” “I will indeed retreat,” Cucullin said, “for warrior-like the boon is Which thou dost ask.” And he retreated then One backward pace, and Lōk the Great fell forward Upon his face there in that upper ford; And the dark mists of death encompassed him. Since that same hour wherein Lōk fell, Ath Tray, “Ford of the Foot,” that is, “the Foot’s Retreat,” Has been the name upon that ford of combat, In which Lōk fell, in low Cann Teera More. That day a dark dejection visited Cucullin, for that he was all alone Defending Ulster; and extreme fatigue, And the sharp anguish of those bleeding wounds Oppressed his spirit; and he said to Laeg: “Arise from me, strong Laeg of the hosts: complain For me in very-red Avvin. Say for me That I am wearied each day in the battle, And now am wounded and bathed o’er with blood. A wound is in my right side; and a wound Is in my left side. Say to kindly Conor That the dear son of Dectora has changed His form indeed, being wearied, wounded, now. Though he should come to me, ’twere not too soon. I am alone before the flocks and herds. I am in evil: I am not in good. I am alone on many fords, and now Very rough wounding has befallen me. No friend arrives to fight for me or help me, Except the charioteer of my one chariot. Were but a few to arrive, we still might fight. There is not music in one horn alone; But from a number of horns of differing sound You get sweet music. This is an old word: You get no flaming from one single stick; But two or three will cause the torch to flame. The portion for a host cannot be seethed On one fork only. I am here alone Fronting Maev’s hosts down at Cann Teera More. Lōk son of Emonis has torn my loins. The bitter-vengeful Bive came in three shapes. Lōk son of Emonis wounded my liver. Laeg sent the spear of Scawtha down the stream. Its course was quick. I hurled the dreadful spear, Whereby fell Lōk the son of Emonis. What ails the Ultonians that they give not battle To Al-yill and the daughter of Yōhee Fayla? Seeing that I am now in pain, disabled, Wounded, and bathed with blood, say unto them, That they must now come after their own Táin. The sons of Mahga have borne off their kine, And made division of the kine amongst them. Joyful the Bive before the hosts of Al-yill! Mournful the cries of woe on Moy Mweerhevna! Let Conor now come forth with his rangéd hosts. Rise, now, O Laeg: go unto very-red Avvin.” Then Laeg arose; but first he had gathered moss And healing herbs, and made soft pads and wisps, And dressed Cucullin’s wounds, staunching the blood. Rising, he left his lord; and with all speed He fared to sword-red Avvin. But his words Were as a warning to the dead. Not yet Might the Ultonians rise from their long Kesh; And Laeg turned back to his own lord again. Before good Laeg returned, and while Cucullin Lay all alone in the deep-hiding woods, The great More-reega daughter of Ernmas came, Appearing like some agéd wrinkled crone Milking her cow. And this was why she came:— That she might win her healing from Cucullin. For so it was, he having wounded her, Only through him might she again be whole. And the cow had three teats. Cucullin thirsted, And begged one draught of milk to assuage his thirst. She gave him all the milking of one teat. He drank it, and cried out in thankfulness: “Health to the giver!” And the Great Queen’s eye Thereby was healed. Again he begged a draught: Again she gave the milking of one teat; And he cried: “Joy and health unto the giver!” And a third time he begged of her a draught, She gave the yield of the third teat; and then Cucullin cried: “The blessings of all beings, Of gods and no-gods—be upon thy head, O woman who hast succoured me!” Thereby Was the More-reega healed of all her wounds. The crone and cow had vanished; and Cucullin, Gazing bewildered, saw one carrion-bird, Red-mouthed, upon the bough beside him there, Who spake and said: “Remember thy great boast, That thou wouldst never heal me of my wounds!” And then Cucullin knew her; and in wrath He answered: “Had I known that it was thou, Thou most abhorréd and detested Queen, Thou drinker of men’s blood, grinder of bones, Wild shrieker-out for pale-lipped carcasses, Dispenser of confusion, famine, woe, I ne’er had healed thee,—nay though I had died Of thirst and want, I had not healed thy wounds.” Then the More-reega vanished and went back To the far, hollow Shee-mound where she dwelt. On Maev the daughter of Yōhee Fayla now Was joyfulness and triumph, seeing that now Cucullin, wounded, was laid low. She now, Taking a third part of her hosts, fared north To waste the lands of Crithny and of Ulster, E’en as she swore to waste them. She fared north Along the road of Meedlougher. She put A cloud of red-brown fire, heavy, widespread, Above the lands of Ulster and of Crithny; And, for the folk of Ulster and of Crithny, There was no ill she did not do to them With liveliness. She took their sons and wives, Their steeds and flocks of mares, their troops of kine, Their herds of every sort of grazing kine, Their raiment, and bright silver and bright gold. And she not only burned unto the grass Their strongly timbered houses, wide and high; But their high, fortified green mounds, whereon Those houses were, she swiftly levelled down, So that their glens and trenches were filled up After her track. “When Conor son of Fahtna Hears of our deeds,” Maev said, “they unto him Will cause heart-sickness, waste of flesh, cheek-whitening, So that no meat will please him, and no quiet, Sweet sleep will go to him; but he will be Tortured in mind, dark-spirited.” Howbeit, Maev on that expedition dared not go To Avvin Maha, or to any doon Where Ulster warriors lay, pained by their Kesh, The curse of Maha; for if one should wound A warrior in that Kesh, that Kesh would leap Straight to that wounder. Therefore, she fared north Through Dalriada to the Northern Sea, To ever-bright Dunseverick, where dwelt Findmore the Great, the warrior-wife of Keltar The son of Oo-hider. Before the door Of ever-bright Dunseverick she gave Fierce battle to Findmore, and slew Findmore The wife of Keltar; and she pillaged all That famous doon; and she took fifty women Out of that doon as captives. Then she turned Southward toward Cooley once again. Each ford Which Maev upon that expedition passed Was thenceforth called Ath Vaeva. Each night-stead Whereon her tent was pitched at night was thenceforth Called Poopal Vaeva. Each place where she set Her horse-switch, when she took her rest, was thenceforth Called Billi Vaeva. So she came again Southward to Al-yill; and they met at Faughard. While Maev upon that vigorous expedition Was spoiling so all Ulster and all Crithny Unhindered, Laeg the son of Ree-angowra Had come again from sword-red Avvin Maha Unto his lord, telling him that his message Had been but as a message to the dead. Cucullin then from his low sick-man’s bed Had risen, though feeble; and his wounds were dressed Freshly with wisps and moss; and he went forth Again to fend his land, the land of Cooley. Then he saw something: he saw sixty men Of Maev’s and Al-yill’s household; and a bratt Folded round each; and the dark Donn of Cooley— With his two eyes burning like crooan-red, And gold on his high horns, and with fifty heifers Of his own heifers—running and being driven Before the men, after his being taken In Glen Samaska in Slieve Gullion. Then Cucullin went to them. “What is thy name?” He said to their chief man, who answered him: “One who nor fears nor loves thee, namely Boi The son of Bawn, of the especial folk Of Al-yill and of Maev.” “This spear at Boi!” Cucullin said; and hurled at him the spear, Which pierced the shield above his breast, and pierced The heart within his breast, so that Boi fell. Howbeit, in the little space of time Wherein Cucullin and Boi son of Bawn Exchanged their words and spears, the Donn of Cooley With skill and swiftness was brought off from them, And driven to the camp and the encampment Of Maev and Al-yill and the men of Erin; So that, indeed, that driving of the bull, The Donn of Cooley, was the worst dishonour And baffling and befooling, that was ever Put on Cucullin on that Táin and hosting. Then Maev and Al-yill and the hosts of Erin, Having the bull, fared south; and at the place, Since called the Bressla More on Moy Mweerhevna, They made their camp at night, having first sent Their mighty prey in captives and in kine, And the great bull, the wondrous Donn of Cooley, Yet further south, even to Cleer Bo Ulla, For shelter and for safety. And Cucullin Against the high, green grave-hill in the Larguey, Exceeding near to the great hosts of Erin, Took up his post; and his own charioteer, Laeg son of Ree-angowra, kindled there His fire at eve that night. Cucullin, gazing Out from himself, perceived the fiery shining Of their clean-golden lance-heads and war-weapons Above the heads of the Four Fifths of Erin At falling of the eve that night. He, seeing Thus the great number of his enemies And the huge number of his foemen—knowing Too that his wounds were yet unhealed and yet He was but weak and feeble—was o’erborne By rage of anger. He took up his sword, And his two spears and shield; and shook his shield, And brandished his two spears, and whirled his sword. And from his throat he gave his hero-cry, So that the Bannanahs and Boccanahs, And the Glen-folk and Spirits of the Air, Answered him for the horror of that cry, Which thus he raised above him. And the Nowin, That is to say, the Bive, went through the hosts, So that the Four Great Fifths of Erin fell To weapon-trembling; and one hundred warriors Of the good warriors of the men of Erin Died of heart-horror ’midst of their camp that night. BOOK XI BOOK XI Now of the Bressla More, red, terrible, Cucullin’s Bressla More on Moy Mweerhevna, We next must tell. While Laeg was on that grave-hill He perceived somewhat: he perceived a man, Out of the north-east quarter, slanting-wise Crossing the wide camp of the men of Erin In a direct line towards him. “Cucucawn,” Said Laeg, “there is a man approaching us.” “What kind of man?” Cucullin asked. Laeg answered: “He is a man noble and fair and tall, Whose face shines glorious as the glorious sun Shines ’mid high clouds on a dry summer’s day. His wide-spread, crispéd, curling hair is yellow Like bright bog-flags in flower. He wears a bratt Of bright grass-green, caught by a clasp of silver Above his breast; and next his bird-white skin He has a layna made from kingly srōl, Richly inwoven with red threads of gold, And falling in rich folds down to his knees. A black shield with a rim of hard findrinny He bears. He bears a tall five-headed spear; And a forked javelin is beside it. Wonderful, Truly, the deeds are, and the feats of art, Which he displays as he comes through that camp; Yet in the camp no one salutes or greets him, And he himself greets no one. ’Tis as though Throughout that camp of the Four Fifths of Erin No man could see him.” “That is true, O Laeg,” Cucullin answered; “no man there can see him; For that is one of my own helping friends From a Shee-mound of Erin, who comes there To pity me and comfort me. They know The hardships and oppression I am in, Over against the Four Great Fifths of Erin Now on this Táin.” That warrior reached the grave-hill Where then Cucullin was; and he began To comfort and to pity him. He said: “Thou hast been very manly, O Cucullin.” “It was not much,” Cucullin said. The warrior Said: “I will help thee now, thou little son.” “Who in all Erin art thou?” asked Cucullin. Whereat that warrior from the Shee replied: “I am long-handed Loo the son of Ethlenn, Who in old days—hundreds of years of days Before this day wherein I speak to thee— Led the bright, greatly skilled Dae Danann hosts To that dread battle of the North Moy Twirra, Wherein the Fomorian hosts were whelmed and slain. Yea, I am he who slew the one-eyed Bahlor, And afterwards reigned many years in Tara Above the Dae Danann host. And, little son, ’Tis I who was thy father from the Shee, Sooaltim not being thy father.” “Warrior,” Cucullin said, “’twere well to heal these wounds.” “Sleep, sleep a little now, thou brave Cucullin,” The warrior said; “let thy deep swoon of sleep Be o’er thee on this grave-hill in the Larguey, Till the far end of three days and three nights; And I myself will watch against yon hosts.” The warrior then above Cucullin sang His deep, low, rich faer-dord, whereat deep sleep Came on Cucullin and he slept. And then That warrior from the Shee threw healing herbs And roots from out the Shee, and leaves of curing, And powerful incantations of quick curing, On the sore wounds and hurts which hurt that youth,— So that he in his sleep grew whole again Without perceiving it or knowing it. In his deep, gentle swoon of sleep Cucullin Slept so upon the grave-hill in the Larguey Till the far end of three days and three nights. That was the time when the young lads of Ulster, Who played upon the playing-green of Avvin, Sons of the kings and chiefs of noble Ulster, Took counsel with each other. “It is grievous, Indeed,” they said, “that thus our friend, Cucullin, Should be alone and without any help.” Whereon Folloon the son of Conor questioned And said: “A question: Shall I have a band To travel south and help your friend, Cucullin?” And the young lads of Ulster answered him: “We do not wish to live without going south To aid Cucullin.” Then thrice fifty lads, Being a third of all the lads of Ulster, Made of themselves a band around Folloon The son of Conor; and they travelled south O’er the hill-region of Slieve Foo-id, and came Down on the level plain, on Moy Mweerhevna. Al-yill perceived that brightly varied band Far out upon the plain. “That band,” said he, “Is a fresh troop of the young Ulster children, Who have come south from sword-red Avvin Maha, To help Cucullin. Let a troop go out Without Cucullin’s knowledge, and destroy them; For if they meet him, ye will not resist them.” A troop went out; but the young lads avoided That troop which went; and they drew nigh the hosts. With their thrice fifty childish playing-clubs They thrice attacked the hosts; and by their hands Thrice their own number fell, ere, in the end, The little lads were overpowered and slain. Folloon the son of Conor had declared That he would ne’er return again to Avvin Till he should take with him the head of Al-yill, Together with the glorious mĭnd of gold Which Al-yill wore in battle. Difficult That was for him; for the two sons of Boi The son of Bawn, who were defending Al-yill, Attacked him; and by them he swiftly fell. Cucullin on the grave-hill in the Larguey Slept his deep swoon of slumber and of sleep Till the far end of three days and three nights. That warrior from the Shee looked at his wounds Then, and perceived that they were clean; and then He sang his aely of awakening o’er him. “Awake,” he sang, “O little battle-hound; Awake, and do thy feats of war and battle. Thy friend from out the Shee hath healed thy wounds. Awake, and mount once more thy battle-chariot. Rise, little son! Rise, slaughtering Hound of Ulster!” Cucullin rose then out of that deep sleep, And passed his hand across his face, and flushed Rosy from crown to ground; and there was strength And freshness in his spirit, even as though He were about to travel to a feast, Or to a festival of Ulster women, Or to an ale-stead, or to a festival Amidst the great prime-festivals of Erin. “How long have I remained in this deep sleep, O warrior?” said Cucullin; and the warrior Replied: “Three days and nights.” “Alas for that!” Cucullin said. “Why so?” that warrior asked. “Because,” Cucullin said, “those hosts have been For all that space without attack or harm.” “It is not so, indeed,” that warrior said. “Who came to harm them, then?” Cucullin asked him. Whereat that warrior from the Shee replied: “The little lads came from the north, from Avvin— Thrice fifty lads, sons of the kings of Ulster— Commanded by Folloon the son of Conor. With their thrice fifty childish playing-clubs They thrice attacked the hosts, whilst thou wast here In thy deep swoon of slumber and of sleep; And by their hands thrice their own number fell, Ere they themselves were overpowered and slain. Folloon the son of Conor had declared That he would ne’er return again to Avvin Till he should take with him the head of Al-yill, Together with the glorious mĭnd of gold Which Al-yill wears in battle. Difficult That was indeed for him; and he was slain.” Cucullin heard those words; and, when he heard them So from that warrior, there broke from him A sharp, sad, woeful, heavy, passionate cry. “Alas,” he said, “that then my battle-strength Was not upon me! Had my battle-strength Been then upon me, the young lads from Avvin Had not thus fallen as now they have fallen: Folloon The son of Conor had not fallen as now He has fallen.” “Be thou comforted, O son,” The warrior said to him; “it is no stain And no reproach upon thy hero-valour: It is no stain upon thy honour.” “Warrior,” Cucullin said, “abide with us to-night, That we together may avenge our lads On yon great hosts.” The warrior, smiling, answered: “I will not so; because, however great The feats of valour and the deeds of arms A man might do beside thee, not on him Would be the fame and the renown for them, But only on thee. Therefore, I will not tarry Beside thee here. Howbeit, on this occasion, Fear not, but fare alone, thou little son; And alone do thy deeds on yonder hosts. There shall be power upon thee from the Shee To-night. To-night thy foes and enemies Shall have no power above thy life. Take now This Covering of Concealment which was sent thee By the dark king o’er the far Land of Sorca, By Manannawn the son of Lear.” The warrior Bestowed that Covering on Cucullin, and then He went from him, and was not seen. Cucullin Called to his charioteer, even to Laeg: “And the scythed chariot now, O Soul, O Laeg! If thou hast now its gear, equip it swiftly, That we may ride to-night to avenge our lads, Our sons of kings from Avvin.” Laeg replied: “I have the chariot, and I have its gear. I can equip it swiftly.” It was then, Therefore, that that war-hero and that fighter, And that constructor of a Bive’s Ring-fence, Put on his battle-dress of war and battle. Of that good battle-dress of war and battle Which he put on, then, were his seven and twenty Waxed, board-smooth laynas, which with cords and ropes Next his white skin were wont to be tied fast, So that his prudence might not go from him When his war-fury should rise up. He put These round him then; and over these he put His tough war-hero’s belt of hard, tanned skin, Made from the shoulders of the seven skins Of seven young bulls. It from the slenderness Of his mid-sides extended to the thickness Beneath his arm-pits. It was wont to be Around him so, to cast back spears and points And spikes and darts and spits; they would be cast Back from that belt as if they had struck on horn Or rock or stone. Next, he put round himself, About his soft and tender middle-parts, His membranous filmy foo-a-vrōg of srōl Bordered with gold. And over that he put His brown and well-smoothed foo-a-vrōg of leather, Made from the shoulders of the four hard skins Of four young bulls to place on the outside Of that soft filmy foo-a-vrōg of srōl. And then it was, indeed, that that war-hero, That battle-champion of the valorous Gael, Took up his battle-arms of war and battle, Of conflict and of combat. Of those arms Were his eight little swords, with his great sword, Which was bright-faced, bone-hilted. Of those arms Were his eight little spears, with his great spear, Which was five-headed, deedful. Of those arms Were his eight little darts, with his great dart, His great Dael Clish, fierce, dreadful. Of those arms Were his eight shields for feats, with his curved shield Black-red, wherein a boar meant for display Could lie, so great it was; and whose sharp edge, All round, would cut a hair against a stream, So sharply was it sharpened. Of those arms Was his high, noble, glorious, crested cathbarr Of battle and of combat and of conflict, Out of each angle of the which a cry Would be cried forth, like to the battle-cry Of one hundred warriors; for the Bannanahs And Boccanahs and Demons of the Air And the Glen-folk were wont to cry before it, Above it, and around it, every time That the blown blood of warriors and of heroes Would shower swift past it on the airs and wind. Lastly, that fighter and that valour-champion Put on the wondrous Covering of Concealment, Druidic, strange, which had been sent to him By far-off Manannawn the son of Lear. That was the hour and that the moment of time, When, while he thought of the dead lads from Avvin, There came upon Cucullin his contortion And his war-writhing, till there was made from him A man misshapen, many-shaped, strange, awful, Dreadful, unheard-of. In that battle-writhing All his flesh trembled and was troubled round him, Till every limb and every joint of him Quivered, e’en like a tree against a stream, Or like a reed against a stream. Hard writhing Engaged his limbs: his calves and hindward parts Twisted to frontward: his two knees and feet Writhed backward. Hideous writhing and contortion Spread o’er his visage. He engulfed one eye Within his head: its fellow-eye broke out Bare, horrible, upon his cheek. His lips Twisted themselves strangely and terribly. Something was heard: it was the half-loud beating Of his stirred heart against the ribs of his side, Like the thick growling of a slaughter-hound Above his food, or like a Scythian lion Ranging ’mid bears. Then there were seen above him Thick showers of fiery sparks in clouds and airs Over his head, arising from the seething Of truly rough, fierce rage which raged within him. His hair rose up and twisted o’er his head, Stiff, like red branches of a stiff-branched thorn, Which close some gap in some high earthen rampart: E’en had a kingly apple-tree beneath Its kingly fruit been shaken around his head, Scarcely an apple of them would have fallen To groundward past those hairs; but on each hair An apple would have lodged, so strong the writhing And anger-stiffening of each hair of them. Last there arose from out the crown of his head A shaft of blood, dark, upright, straight, as tall And high and thick and steady as the mast Of some prime, kingly vessel; till above him A dark druidic mist was made of it, Like the smoke-pall above a royal hostel, What time a king is coming for his guesting At eve in winter. When that hard contortion Wherewith Cucullin so had been contorted Had past, that Head-of-Valour of the Gael, The Battle-champion of all Ulster, leapt On his scythed battle-chariot. For Laeg Meanwhile had dressed himself and dressed the chariot. He had put on his own light hunting-dress, Whereof was his soft innar made from deer-skin, Airy and light, so that it hindered not The movements of his hands: whereof was also His noble, glorious, crested, four-ridged cathbarr, Which was adorned with many hues and forms, And reached to his mid-shoulder, much enhancing The glory of his look: whereof was also His gleaming guipny of red-yellow gold— His curved thin band of anvil-beaten gold— Which with his hand he placed around his brow To be a token of his charioteering, Whereby all men might know him from his lord. When Laeg had dressed himself, he on the steeds, Namely, the Leeha Maha and Doo Sanglenn, Had thrown their covering-armour, which was studded From end to end with little points and lances And spikes and darts. And, lastly, he had thrown Upon those steeds a Spell and Incantation Of Covering, which that warrior from the Shee Had taught to him that day, so that that night Within that camp of the Four Fifths of Erin No man might clearly see them on their course. And so it was indeed that that war-champion, That high, proud Head-of-Valour of the Gael, The Battle-champion of all Ulster, leapt On his scythed battle-chariot—with its ends And boundaries of iron, with its edges Cutting and thin, with its hard spikes and spikelets, With its hard, lacerating hooks and hooklets, With its sharp nails and spits and spikes and prongs, Which were upon its frame-parts and its thongs, And on each pole and hind-shaft. And he threw Out from him then before his enemies His noise-feats of one hundred and two hundred, Three hundred and four hundred; and he stood At the five hundred; and he went so far, Because it did not seem too much to him That all that number should be slain by him In his first onset and first battle-leaping Against the men of the Four Fifths of Erin, In vengeance for the lads. In this array, Then, he rode forth against his enemies; And with his chariot next he made a circuit Around the men of the Four Fifths of Erin, Without, outside. He put a ponderous course On to his chariot; and the iron wheels Ploughed through the ground, so that it was enough To form a doon—the way the iron wheels Ploughed through the ground; for there arose alike The sods and pillar-stones and rocks and flags And the fine sand and gravel of the earth, Till they were height for height with the iron wheels Above, beside them. It was for this reason That he thus put that ponderous Bive’s-circuit Around the men of the Four Fifths of Erin Without, outside:—so that they might not scatter And might not flee from him, until by slaughter He should avenge the lads on them. He came So, ’midst the battle; and he felled great fences Of bodies of his foemen in a circuit And a wide circle round about the hosts Without, outside. He made a foeman’s onset Upon his foemen, so that sole to sole And neck to neck they fell. Three times he so Rode round the hosts, so that he left around them A sixfold slaughter-fence, in a great circuit All round that doon of the Four Fifths of Erin; For they fell, soles of three to necks of three, All round that doon of the Four Fifths of Erin. And hence the Shessra of the Bressla More (The Sixfold Slaughter of the Great Destruction) Was the name given to that dreadful slaughter Wrought by Cucullin then. And it is one Of three uncounted slaughters on the Táin, Which were, this Shessra of the Bressla More, The Imlee of Glendomna, and the battle Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig, The battle of the Táin. For in this slaughter The slaughter was uncounted: no man knew How many had fallen. Of the common, poor People of little reckoning who fell There was no counting possible. Only The chiefs were counted. Of the chiefs who fell There were two each of Croo-ees, Kahlas, Keers, Keears, and Eckells; there were three each of Crommas, Cauriths, and Combeergas; four each of Fohairs, Furacars, Casses, Fotas; and five each Of Kermans, Caurs, and Coffys; and six each Of Saxons, Dooahs, and Dawras; and seven each Of Rohas, Ronawns, and Ruras; and eight each Of Rohties, Rindahs, Mullahs; and nine each Of Daigiths, Dawras, Dahmahs; and ten each Of Fee-acs, Fee-ahas, and Faylimies. Those were the chiefs who were mown down that night. Cucullin went from them after inflicting That slaughter on the chiefs and folk of Erin. There was not any reddening on himself Or on his gillie, or on a steed of his steeds. This was the Shessra of the Bressla More (The Sixfold Slaughter of the Great Destruction). This was the Bressla More on Moy Mweerhevna, Cucullin’s Bressla More, red, terrible, Cucullin’s Bressla More on Moy Mweerhevna, Which Scawtha had foretold far in the East. Upon the morrow morn Cucullin went To gaze abroad above the hosts of Erin, And to display his lovable, fair form To all their women and their wives and maidens, And to the poets and wise men of knowledge, Which were amongst those mighty hosts of Erin; Because that arrogant, druidic form, Wherein he had appeared to them at night That night, was not by him deemed fair or worthy. Beautiful, truly, was that youthful son, Namely, Cucullin son of Sooaltim, Who there displayed his beauty and his form Unto the hosts of the Four Fifths of Erin. Three hues of hair were on him—a brown hue Next to the skin of his head, a blood-red hue Adjoining that, and a fair golden hue Adjoining that; and each thin, separate hair Had these three hues on it. A fair arrangement Was on those hairs: they made three well-formed wheels About the nape of his neck; and like a thread Of fine-drawn gold was each free, scattered, glorious, Long, separate hair of them which streamed and fell Backwards beyond his shoulders. And one hundred Crimsoned, fair links of rich, red, flaming gold Went round his throat and neck; and full one hundred Rich ornaments of mingled carbuncle Made a choice covering for his head. Four dimples Smiled in each cheek. Seven gems of light flamed bright In each of his two kingly eyes. That day He put his feast-array of feast-days round him. Of that array was his fit, crimson, fair, Five-folding fooan, in which, o’er his white breast, Was a white silvern spike inworked with gold, And shining like some lamp filled up with light, So that the eyes of men could not endure it, Because of its great cleanness and its glory. Of that array was his rich silken innar, With hems and belts and fringes of rich gold And silver and findrinny, which reached down To the upper edge of his brown foo-avrōg, Which was red-brown and soldier-like, and made From kingly srōl, filmy and beautiful. Of that array was his brown-crimson shield, Which was upon him, with its pure white rim Of silver round it. And of that array Were his gold-hilted sword at his left side, And his long, grey-edged spear which was beside him Inside his chariot. In his hand that day Was Oak-fruit of the Red More-reega, namely, Dead heads of men. Nine heads were in his right hand, And ten were in his left hand; and he shook them And brandished them towards those great hosts of Erin. This was the time when the young maids and daughters Amongst the men of Erin in that camp, Besought the men to raise them on their shields, And raise the shields aloft on to the shoulders Of sturdy warriors, that they thence might gaze Upon Cucullin’s form; for wonderful That lovable, fair form, which they perceived Upon him there that day, appeared to them, When they remembered the druidic form, Arrogant, dark, which they had seen on him At night that night. But upon Maev that morn, After the red, dread slaughter of the night, For the first time there was dismay and fear And trembling and sick dread and shuddering Before Cucullin. She concealed her face Beneath her impending shield: she dared not gaze Then on that Hound. Howbeit in Maev that morn There was resolve and hard heart-resolution To find some warrior and some battle-champion Who would be fit to overcome that Hound; And, having found such, then, by gifts or blame, To induce him to go forth to slay Cucullin. She, scrutinizing in her mind, was sure That there were four men living still in Erin Who would be fit to meet him. One was Fergus The son of Roy; and one was Calateen Of dangerous arts, a dangerous, fierce opponent, With poison on his spears; and one indeed was Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra, The mighty warrior of the men of Domnann, Cucullin’s brother-in-arms; and one was Cooroi The son of Dawra, in the far south-west. At eve that day Maev dispatched generous Lewy The son of Nōs the son of Alamac, To address Cucullin, and to ask renewal Of his war-terms—the terms of single combat. Then Lewy to that grave-hill in the Larguey Went forth to address Cucullin. “I have come,” He said, “to ask renewal of the terms.” “I will renew them,” said Cucullin, “seeing That now my wounds are healed, and I am whole, And able for hard strife and battle-combat.” Lewy went back again, and gave that answer To Al-yill and to Maev. Then Maev besought The men of Erin that some man of them Should go for battle-combat with Cucullin Upon the ensuing morn. But each one said (Even as she had known that each would say, After the red, dread slaughter of that night): “It is not I who will go forth, or leave This place wherein I am. My race and kindred Are not beneath a bond to give a man To certain death and to foredoomed destruction.” This, therefore, was the evening when Maev spake To Fergus son of Roy, of great renown; And she implored him very earnestly, And she besought him and entreated him To go to combat at the ford of battle, And to bring back the head of the Ree-astartha. Fergus refused. “O Fergus,” Maev said then, “Once thou wast greatest of all Ulster warriors, And naught was lacking to thee save to be The king in Ulster. Then, because thou wast Too great to be in the one Fifth with him, Conor the son of Fahtna Fahee drove thee Forth from thy place, landless and with dishonour. He slew the three Bright Candles of the Gael While they were underneath thy guard and honour. He drove thee from thy country and thy land And thine inheritance; and immense kindness Thou hast received from us. I gave, O Fergus, Support for thy three times ten hundred men, Together with their women and their poets And their young lads and their unnumbered gillies. I gave unto thyself perpetual feasting In royal Croohan. I myself maintained Thy honour, by myself paying thy debts Of honour, and fulfilling all thy vows. For seven long years has Connaught borne these burdens; And now it is a shameful thing in thee That thou dost shirk thy share of battle-danger, And that thou dar’st not meet the Ree-astartha Who is destroying us.” These words Maev said, Speaking to Fergus; and many more she said; And she reproached him very heavily. Fergus was silent. He returned no words Unto those heavy words; but Maev was sure That he would go unto the battle-ford At earliest dawn of rising on the morrow. Fergus went back to his own tent and people. He slept no sleep that night. His debt and bond To Maev were heavy on him and oppressed him; For it was difficult indeed to shun them; And it seemed bitter to him so to be Dependent on that queen. There in his tent, While thinking of the little lad of Ulster, Upon his breast he wept his showers of tears, So that his beard and breast were wet with them; And his own servants dared not speak to him Their words of consolation or of counsel. At earliest dawn of rising on the morrow Fergus went down unto the battle-ford Of conflict and of combat; and Cucullin Saw his great guardian, Fergus, there before him. There was no joy made upon either side. There was great silence. In a little while, Cucullin said: “O my great guardian, Fergus, I see there is no sword in yon long scabbard, Which thou hast with thee there.” Fergus replied: “It is indifferent to me, O my pupil; For even if my sword were here with me, It should not reach thee; and ’tis not on thee That it should now be plied. If I would ply it On thee, my pupil, he who has that sword Would yield it to me gladly. O my pupil! O my knee-fosterchild! will a wild doe Make war on her own fawn? Or will a brother Make war on his young brother? Or shall I Make war on my own pupil? But, my pupil, By all the nurture and by all the rearing Which I once gave thee, and which all the men Of Ulster since have given, and which Conor Himself hath given, I now beseech and pray thee To flee before me in this place to-day In presence of the watching hosts of Erin.” Silence was on that youth, and then he said: “O my great guardian Fergus, it behoves me To be reluctant to take flight or flee Before one man from ’midst the men of Erin, Now when I am alone before yon hosts, Guarding the folk and flocks and lands of Ulster.” Fergus made answer to him: “O my pupil, Now it behoves thee to be not reluctant; For in the last great battle of this Táin, If thou shalt still be living, and shalt come To meet me, thou being wounded, filled with wounds, And thou shalt bid me flee before thee, truly I then will flee before thee in that battle; And if I flee, the men of Erin all Will flee before thee likewise in that battle.” After those earnest words and that strong promise, Which Fergus so had made, Cucullin went In road of rout, of flight and of defeat In presence of the watching hosts of Erin. Fergus turned back once more, he having so Done treachery to Maev. “He flees, he flees, He flees before thee, Fergus!” each one cried: “He flees in road of rout and flight before thee.” “Follow him, Fergus!” Maev said; “let him not Thus go from out thine hands.” There broke from Fergus His savage laughter-voice. “Nay, verily,” Said he, “beyond this spot wherein I am I will not follow him. However little Ye deem that share of flight, that I have caused him, There is no man amongst the men of Erin, Who hath known how to put him to such flight Upon this Táin; and it is for that reason That, till each man of Erin in his turn Hath gone to fight with him in single combat, I will not go to threaten him again.” Now of Cucullin’s combat on the Táin With Calateen of deadly, dangerous darts, Together with his twenty-seven sons And with his grandson, Glass the son of Delga, We must tell briefly. In Maev’s tent that night The chiefs and kings considered who was fittest To send for battle-combat with Cucullin At earliest hour of rising in the morn. Then all agreed with Maev that it was best To send for Calateen of deadly arts, Together with his twenty-seven sons, And with his grandson, Glass the son of Delga. For thus those men of dangerous, deadly arts Were:—there was poison on each man of them, And poison on each weapon of their weapons; And he whom they but reddened, if he died not Forthwith, died surely ere nine days were past; And not a man of them e’er aimed an aim Unfit or false, or cast an erring cast. The men were sent for then; and huge rewards Were promised them for doing that famed combat; And for rewards they took in hand to do it. And it was needful that in presence of Fergus This thing should be confirmed; and he, when called, Was powerless to cross or traverse it; For this is what men said:—that Calateen Together with his twenty-seven sons And with his grandson, Glass the son of Delga, Was as one man; for this is what they said:— His sons were merely limbs of his own limbs, And parts of his own parts, and it was right That Calateen should have the host and fullness Of his own body; and their contract therefore Was not a breaking of the faith of men. Fergus went back to his own tent and folk. He breathed on high his groan of weariness. “’Tis grievous unto us the battle-deed That will be done to-morrow,” Fergus said; And he told all that tale. “And now,” said Fergus, “There is no man to whom I will not give My blessing and my battle-dress of battle, If he will go from me to watch that combat, And bring me word when in that unjust combat Cucullin shall have fallen.” Feeaha The son of Conall Carna said to him: “I will myself go forth to watch that combat.” And they stayed there that night. Upon the morrow Cucullin went unto the battle-ford Early; and Calateen of dangerous arts Went jointly with his twenty-seven sons And with his grandson, Glass the son of Delga. Upon Cucullin who was there alone, They launched at once their twenty-nine sharp darts Whereon was poison; and no dart of them Went on an erring or a swerving course. Cucullin wrought his edge-feat with his shield, So that the twenty-nine unswerving darts Plunged to their mid-parts in his battle-shield; And not one dart of them had reddened him. This was the time when he drew forth his sword From its Bive’s-scabbard, so that he might hew And lop the darts, and thus unload his shield. While he was so unloading it, the men Drew nigh him swiftly, warily. They placed Upon his head their twenty-nine right hands, That they might bend him and might bow him down Until his face and brow should be forced down Into the sand and gravel of the ford. While they were so bending and bowing him, Cucullin raised on high his warrior-moan And hero-sigh of hard, unequal combat, So that there was no man of Ulster living, And not in sleep, who did not hear him sigh. And the men bent and pressed and bowed him down, Until his face and brow and countenance Were ’midst the sand and gravel of the ford. It was just then and at that point of time That Feeaha the son of Conall Carna Arrived and saw that thing. There came on him His thong and tie of Ulster love and kinship. He drew his sword out of his strong Bive’s-scabbard, And gave one sweeping blow, till with that blow He had struck their twenty-nine right hands from them; And the men, owing to the urgency Of the deed and act wherein they had been, fell back Suddenly into the sand and ooze of the ford. Cucullin raised his head and drew his breath; And he exhaled his sigh of weariness; And he perceived the man who thus had helped him. “Well nigh too late thy help arrived for me, O fellow-pupil!” said Cucullin. “Truly,” Said Feeaha, “however late and little The help appears to thee, it is not little To us there in that camp. We in that camp Are the best cantred of the Clan of Rury; And ’tis beneath the mouth of spear and sword That we should all be placed, if this one blow That I have struck for thee, were known of us.” “I give my word,” Cucullin said, “that now, Since I have raised my head and drawn my breath, Unless thou tell that tale about thyself, Not one of these shall henceforth live to tell it.” Then turned Cucullin rapidly against them, And fell to hewing them and slaying them, Until he put them from him in their parted Quarters, and in their finely parted joints, Eastwards and westwards, lengthways of the ford. One man alone escaped him—namely, Glass The son of Delga; then Cucullin saw him, And, in his rushing of swift running, rushed Like the swift, rushing wind; and even as Glass The son of Delga came unto the tent Of Al-yill and of Maev, Cucullin reached him; And while he panted, “Feea—, Feea—,” meaning To tell the deed of Feeaha, Cucullin Struck a swift blow, and struck his head from him; And then again, like the swift, rushing wind, He went from them; and no one caught him there. “That was a sudden thing with that man there,” Said Maev; “what debt was that whereof he spoke?” (For “Feea” means “a debt.”) “Truly,” said Fergus, “I know not; but perchance within the camp There is some man who owed a debt to him; And it was in his mind whilst he ran hither. Howbeit one thing I aver,” said Fergus— And he spake loudly, roughly, joyously— “Now, in one time, his debts have all been paid.” This was Cucullin’s combat on the Táin With Calateen of many dangerous arts, Together with his twenty-seven sons And with his grandson, Glass the son of Delga. And upon Maev that day there was great grief, And great perplexity, because not yet Had she found one amongst the men of Erin Able to conquer and o’erthrow Cucullin. BOOK XII BOOK XII That evening Maev unto her private tent Summoned the chiefs and warriors and brave men; And they stood round her, leaning on their spears, Holding a council. And Maev said to them: “Unless we find a man to overcome This dread Cucullin, now my heart will break.” Then they all said that there was but one man Fitted to meet Cucullin at the ford— Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra, The mighty warrior of the men of Domnann From Irrus Domnann in the storm-beat west; For like and equal were their modes of fight: They by one teacher had been taught and trained, Namely, by Scawtha; so that neither owned Advantage o’er the other, save that only Cucullin owned the art of the Gae Bulg. But then, as was well known, Faerdeeah owned A conganess, a tough protecting armour, The gift of Scawtha ere he left her land; And no edged weapons easily could pierce it. Then there were sent envoys and messengers To bring Faerdeeah straightway; but Faerdeeah Denied, declined, refused those messengers, And came not with them; for full well he knew The thing that brought them there,—to make him fight In fierce encounter with his own dear friend, His loved companion and brother-in-arms, Cucullin. And Maev dispatched her skilful slanderers, And men of irony and calumny, And bade them speak their dangerous lampoons And hot, cheek-reddening satire and invective, To raise three shameful blisters on his face— Reproach, Disgrace, and Contumely—that so, If he died not immediately, at least He might be dead ere nine days should be past, Unless he came with them. Faerdeeah then Came to confer with Maev; for he desired To fall in battle-glory, not by shafts Of coward ridicule. And he resolved To offer every other battle-service, But not to combat with his own dear friend. The hour that Maev and Al-yill saw him come They laughed a full loud laugh of triumph. Then With honour and attendance they received him, And brought him to the feast. And Findabair, Obedient to her mother, brimmed his cup With wine from Gaul, and gave him with each cup Three kisses, tenderly and fervently; And carried to him, folded in her layna, Red, well-stored apples; and she laid them down, And bade him eat, and said that he indeed Of all the men in Erin was the one Whom she could choose to love. And this was true; For now, since Frae had fallen, she had not seen So goodly a man to love as was Faerdeeah. So he grew gently merry. Presently, When he a while had quaffed the wine from Gaul, Maev spake and said: “Good, now, my friend, Faerdeeah, Knowest thou why I have sent for thee this night?” And he made answer: “Here are goodly chiefs, And men of valour and of warlike deeds; And where such men are gathered, ’tis but fit I should be found amongst them!” Maev replied: “Not only so; but I have sent for thee To offer thee great wealth and great rewards:— A chariot costing four times seven bond-maids, And raiment for twelve men, of each right hue, With drinking-horns and bridles and fleet steeds, And kingly srōl and rings of rich red gold, And the full measure of thy barren land Apportioned to thee from my smooth Moy Wee, With a fair share of plain and forest land, To be thine own, free of all tax and tribute, Free from demands for hostings, free to thee And to thy sons and to thy seed for ever, Until the brink of Judgment and of Doom. These shall be thine, and more; for Findabair Shall go to thee to be thine own one wife; And I will give to thee as highest honour The golden brooch from out my queenly robe. These shall be thine, if thou to-morrow morn Wilt meet Cucullin at the danger-ford, And if by thee he shall be slain and die.” “Great the rewards and gifts!” exclaimed the chiefs. Faerdeeah said: “Though very great the gifts, Maev, as for me, may take them back again. I will not slay my brother-in-arms, Cucullin.” They brimmed his horn again, and when again He for a while had quaffed the Gaulish wine, Maev spake and said: “Hearken, my friend, Faerdeeah. It is an ancient word that to each man His native land is dear. Cucullin fights For his own native land, the land of Ulster; And thou shouldst fight for thine, the land of Connaught.” Faerdeeah hearkened for a while, then said: “I cannot fight my brother-in-arms, Cucullin.” They brimmed his horn again; and when again He for a while had quaffed the Gaulish wine, Maev spake and said: “Know’st thou, my friend, Faerdeeah, Throughout the camp to-night by every fire, There is no theme for jest and mockery Save this alone, namely, that thou, Faerdeeah, Who hast been trained to arms far in the east By Ooaha, by Scawtha, and by Weefa, Lackest the valour for hard battle-combat.” Faerdeeah heard; and he grew red and pale. For thus Faerdeeah was:—there was to him No ill so hard to endure as mockery And raillery and scorn and mocking words. He paused a while in silence, but then said: “I may not fight my brother-in-arms, Cucullin.” They brimmed his horn again; and when again He for a while had quaffed the Gaulish wine, Maev spake aloof, apart, in a low voice, According to the ways for great deceivings, And said: “O warriors, it was a true word Cucullin spoke.” Faerdeeah heard her words, Even as she had meant that he should hear them. He said to her: “What word was that, O Maev?” “Cucullin said,” said Maev, “that unto him It would not have appeared too much that thou, Faerdeeah, shouldst have been the first to fall In battle-fight with him upon this hosting. And this is what Cucullin says: he says That he, indeed, would think it little honour To slay thee now, after the true war-heroes Whom he has slain in combat on this Táin.” Faerdeeah heard those well-deviséd words Which Maev devised; and he grew red and pale With wrath; yet had it not been for the wine Which he had quaffed, he would not have believed Those words, as now with anger he believed them. “It was not right,” he said, “that even Cucullin Should speak of me in that wise. Never yet Hath he known cowardice or weariness In me by day or night. But now I swear I will be he who shall be found the first In readiness upon the ford to-morrow.” “May victory and blessing be on thee,” Said Maev, “and all success and battle-triumph.” “But thou, great Queen,” Faerdeeah said, “must give me Sureties and pledges that thou wilt fulfil The promises that thou hast made.” Then Maev Bound herself by the firm security Of six great chiefs and princes. Yet Faerdeeah Paused, and he said: “Nay, thou must give me, too, The sun and moon and wind.” And Maev complied. She gave to him in surety sun and moon And stars and colours and the falling dew And the four winds—that those great powers all, If she should break her word, might punish her. And after that she bound Faerdeeah fast By the same pledges and securities To fight Cucullin on the following morn. So they were bound on either side; and Maev Took from her crimson bratt her heavy brooch Of beaten gold; and kindly, royally, Yielded it to Faerdeeah as a sign Of mutual faith and truth and honour pledged. Faerdeeah then, the feast being ended, went Back to his tent and to his folk and people. Fergus had witnessed all that speech and contract. He went to see Cucullin; and he came Unto that place wherein Cucullin was. “He who will come against thee in the morn,” He said, “is thine own friend and bosom-comrade, Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra, Who with thyself was trained far in the east.” Cucullin said: “It is not he, indeed, Whom I had wished to come against me—yet Not on account of any fear of him, But on account of my great love for him.” Fergus replied: “Yet it is right to fear him; For not like others who have come is this Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra, Who will confront thee at the ford to-morrow.” Cucullin said: “Here I have been alone Against the hosts of the Four Fifths of Erin, Since Sowin Eve till now when spring begins. I have not yielded one foot in retreat In all this time before one man of them, Save before thee, O Fergus; and I hope I shall not yield before Faerdeeah now.” Fergus went back to his own tent and people. As for Faerdeeah, he had now returned Unto his tent and folk, to whom he told How he was bound by Maev to single combat With dread Cucullin on the ensuing morn. The people of Faerdeeah’s tent that night Were not content and merry and full of joy; But they were sorrowful, dispirited; Because they knew in whatsoever place Those two great heroes, those two battle-breakers, Might meet in combat, either both would fall, Or one would fall; and if but one should fall, They thought that it would be their own dear lord; For now it seemed a thing impossible To overthrow Cucullin on this Táin. During the earlier hours of that sad night Faerdeeah slept a deep and heavy sleep. Then his sleep went from him; and he awoke. All the inebriation of Maev’s wine Had gone; and now in the cold, misty morn The question and the trouble and the sorrow Of that vowed combat scourged and weighed on him. Then he arose, and bade his charioteer Harness his steeds and yoke his chariot quickly. The servant sought to hinder him, and said: “Better by far remain and take thy rest Until the sun arise. Go not yet forth Unto this grievous meeting and encounter.” “Be silent now, my man,” Faerdeeah said. “Thou speakest like a servant. We will go With strength and valour to the ford of wounding, O’er which the Bive shall scream.” The horses then Were harnessed, and the chariot yoked, and forth They rode, and reached the battle-ford; and not E’en yet had the full light of daylight come. Through the dim, misty light of early morn Maev from her tent had seen Faerdeeah pass. She said: “Does Al-yill sleep?” “Not so,” said Al-yill. Maev said: “Provided that Cucullin falls By yonder warrior, ’twill be well for us If he himself falls too; for this we know:— That if he slays his friend, ’tis we ourselves Whom in his woe he next will seek to slay.” Faerdeeah and his servant then had reached The battle-stream. “O gillie,” said Faerdeeah, “Look, is Cucullin yet upon the ford?” “He is not,” said the servant. “Look with heed,” Faerdeeah said. “Cucullin,” said the servant, “Is not some little switch or goad concealed Amid long grass.” “’Tis true,” Faerdeeah said, “He is not there. He has not till this hour Heard of the coming of a true war-hero Against him on this Táin. Now, having heard, He has abandoned the dread ford.” “Alas!” The gillie said, “it is unkind, disloyal, So in his absence to insult Cucullin. And dost thou not remember how, yon time When ye attacked rough, battle-skilled Germanus O’er the edge-borders of the Tyrrhene Sea, Thou with the host hadst left thy battle-sword; And ’twas Cucullin who regained it for thee, Slaying one hundred men to reach to it? And dost thou not remember where we were On that same night?” “I do not,” said Faerdeeah. “We all were at the house of Scawtha’s steward,” The gillie said; “that night, with glowing pride, Thou wentst into that house before us all; Whereat the steward, the giant-hideous churl, With his long, three-pronged flesh-fork struck at thee Against the mid-part of thy back, and flung thee Out o’er the threshold of the door. Cucullin It was who slew that churl; and it was I Who served as steward so long as ye remained Within that stead. And that one day alone Makes it not right that thou shouldst boast thyself A better battle-hero than Cucullin.” “Be silent, O my man,” Faerdeeah said. “What thou now dost is wrong, thus, when too late, Putting those days into my memory; But hadst thou spoken of these things last night, Then, notwithstanding Maev’s strong wine from Croohan, Yea, notwithstanding that o’erweening boasting Cucullin made, I had not come to-day Unto this fight and combat. And now, gillie,” Faerdeeah said, “desist from this, and spread The blankets and the skins of the firm chariot Beneath me here, that I may take my sleep, My deep repose and rest. In the last hours Of the dark night I slept not; for the thought And trouble of this combat weighed on me.” The charioteer loosened the steeds, and then Spread for his lord the blankets and the skins; And soon the heavy deadness of deep sleep Fell on Faerdeeah, and he rested there. And now about Cucullin. He arose not Until the day with its full light had come, That so the men of Erin might not say That fear and terror drove away his sleep. But when the day with all its light had come, He rose and said unto his charioteer: “Good now, my servant Laeg, harness the steeds And yoke the chariot. We will now ride forth. He is an early-rising man, this friend, Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra, Who comes against us at the ford to-day.” “The steeds are caught: the chariot is prepared,” Said Laeg, “so mount it: it will not disgrace Thy valour or thy prowess and feats of arms.” Then sprang into his chariot the adroit And battle-victorious, red-sworded hero, Cucullin son of Sooaltim; and round him Shouted the Boccanahs and Bannanahs And the Glen-folk and Spirits of the Air; And Thooaha Dae Danann raised around him Shoutings and cries, that so they might enhance The terror and fear and hate his foes should feel. In no long time Faerdeeah’s charioteer Heard the dim roll of wheels, the tramp of hooves, The musical clang of swords and spears and shields Beating against each other, and the cries Made by the airy spirits. Then he went And laid his hand upon his master, saying: “Arise, Faerdeeah! for he cometh now— The Hound of Valour. Over wide Bray Ross Fleetly he cometh. Like a noble hawk He swoopeth southward, and is like the wind For swiftness. Not with waned dexterity Will he attack thee at the ford to-day.” Faerdeeah, waking, spake with vehemence, And said: “Hast thou been bribed to praise this man? I think thou hast taken wages to extol The vaunting youth from Cooley. Know thou, then, That he shall find his downfall here to-day.” And soon the charioteer, watching there, saw Cucullin’s comely, four-peaked chariot: green Its pleasant awning, thin and firm its frame. Beneath the one yoke was a fleet, gray horse, With long smooth hair: beneath the second yoke A black horse, tufty-maned and fierce like fire, And like a hawk down-swooping from a cloud, Like a cold gust of spring wind o’er a plain, Or like a deer when started by the hounds On his first chase, were those two noble steeds. As though they trod on fiery flags they came; And the earth shook and trembled. So Cucullin Came to the ford. Faerdeeah on the south Awaited him. He on the northern side Drew up his chariot; and they faced each other. “Welcome, Cucullin, is thy coming,” then Faerdeeah said. Cucullin answered him: “Trusty and dear to me until this hour Those words had been. Now I accept them not. And, O Faerdeeah, it were fitter far For me to speak the welcome in this land. It is my land, not thine; and I am here Defending my own people and their wives And youths and little ones and flocks and herds, All that are left uncaptured and unslain; And thou hast come to combat with me here.” Faerdeeah said: “Thereby I honour thee. What claim or right hast thou to fight with me? For, when we were with Scawtha far away, Thou wast my servant and subordinate, To fit my spears and to prepare my bed.” “Yea, for I was the younger,” said Cucullin; “But, well thou knowest, it is not as thy man, Or as thy servant and subordinate, That men hereafter will remember me. Therefore withdraw in time, or thou shalt find That thou hast fallen in a gap of danger; And edgéd weapons here will hew thee down, And thou shalt never be a battle-chief From this time forth; but here thy life shall end.” “Away with all thy boasting and thy warning!” Replied Faerdeeah; “like a tame house-bird Thou art to me. Ere sun-down, ere the night, Crimson shall flow thy blood athwart thy bridle. Thy head shall be upon a pointed spit, Thou upstart vaunter! I am here at length; And thou shalt fight and die.” So spake Faerdeeah, Indignant rage having laid hold of him. Then, quick, Cucullin said: “O my Faerdeeah, Why didst thou listen to the fair-haired queen? She hath beguiled thee with deceiving words. We, when we were with Scawtha in the east, Went out together into every battle. In lands and forests many and far away We went with Scawtha, learning, practising. And we were heart-companions: side by side, After long toil, we slept our good, deep sleep. A dearer, trustier friend I have not known. We thought that never, indeed, between us two Could there be angry words or enmity. Come not against me now, O noble hero, Faerdeeah son of Daman. Break not so Our bond of friendship. Hold in memory The vow we made. There is not in the world One at whose hest I would do ill to thee.” Faerdeeah paused in silence. Then he said: “It is too late. Too long have we been thus, Contending with words only. And what weapons Shall we select to-day?” Cucullin said: “Thine is the choice of arms until the night; For thou art he who first did reach the ford.” “Dost thou remember, then,” Faerdeeah asked, “The game with missive weapons that we played With Ooaha, with Scawtha, and with Weefa? If thou rememberest, let us try them now.” Then they put on their two bright-bordered shields. Adapted for quick play of skill; and took Eight little lances made for feats of skill, With eight well-shapen feather-wingéd darts, Eight ivory-hilted poniards thin and straight, And eight diminutive bone-hafted spears. And these flew forth from them and back again Like flying bees on a bright summer’s day. No cast was badly aimed. From early morn To full mid-day they cast and shot and hurled, Until their various missiles were all spoiled And blunted on the well-directed shields. Though excellent the hurling, yet so true Was the defence that neither, in all that time, Wounded or injured or made red the other. “Let us abandon these,” Faerdeeah said; “For not through these our fight will be resolved.” “Yea, let us leave them, if the time be come,” Replied Cucullin. And they ceased, and flung Into the hands of their good charioteers Their darts and lances and bright-bordered shields. “What arms or weapons shall we fight with now?” Faerdeeah questioned; but Cucullin said: “Thine is the choice of arms until the night; For thou art he who first did reach the ford.” “Then,” said Faerdeeah, “let us now take up Our straight and shapely, smooth, well-hardened spears, Wherein well-tightened is the flaxen cord.” “So let us, if thou wilt,” Cucullin said. Then they put on two strong, protecting shields; And took their shapely, smooth, well-hardened spears, Wherein well-tightened was the flaxen cord; And with these arms they shot, each at the other, From middle day until the evening fell. Though excellent the quick defence they made, So skilful was their hurling, and so true, That each was hurt and wounded in that time. “Let us leave off now for the present while,” Faerdeeah said. “Let us, if it be time,” Replied Cucullin. And they ceased, and threw Into the hands of their good charioteers Their shields and fighting-weapons; and forthwith Each one drew nigh the other; and each laid His arms around the other’s neck, and gave him Three kisses ardently and fervently. Their horses all that night remained together In the one paddock; and their charioteers Stayed by one fire. Howbeit, ere darkness fell Each servant made for his own lord a bed Of newly-gathered rushes; and both made Pillows for wounded men; and then there came The folk of cure and healing, and applied Succulent herbs of healing and of cure To all their hurts and gashes and sore wounds. Of every herb and every healing salve That they provided for Cucullin’s wounds He sent one half south-westward o’er the ford Unto Faerdeeah. And of all nourishment, And all inspiriting, well-flavoured ale Brought by the men of Erin to Faerdeeah, He sent one half north-eastward o’er the ford To freshen and delight and help Cucullin. They, in this manner, rested there that night. And early in the morning they arose; And they came forward to the ford of battle. “What arms of valour shall we take to-day?” Cucullin asked; but briefly, courteously, Faerdeeah answered: “Thine the choice of arms Until the night; for in the day now past The choice was mine.” “Let us,” Cucullin said, “Take up our huge, wide-headed thrusting spears; And let our steeds be caught and chariots yoked, That from our chariots and from o’er our steeds We may deliver battle here to-day.” Then they put on two durable, strong shields, Wide and protecting; and they took the spears That were wide-headed, huge; and these they thrust And drove against each other, from the gleam Of early morning till the evening fell. Their steeds were weary, and their charioteers Dispirited; and they themselves—the heroes, The men of valour—they were weary too. “Now let us cease, Faerdeeah,” said Cucullin; “Our steeds are weary; and our charioteers Discouraged and fatigued. Why should not we Be weary likewise?” And they ceased, and threw Their spears and shields unto their charioteers; And each drew nigh the other; and each laid His arms around the other’s neck, and gave him Three kisses; and Cucullin said: “Faerdeeah, My loving heart is as one clot of blood; Almost my spirit has departed from me. What need hadst thou to come to combat here At bidding of the evil-minded queen? Let us withdraw from this, and strive no more. I have not heart or strength for feats of valour, Fighting with thee, Faerdeeah, my dear friend.” Faerdeeah mused in silence. He recalled The strong securities and powerful bonds Wherein he was fast bound by Maev; then said: “O Hound of Valour, Hound of Battle-triumph, It is too late. We may not now draw back; But one of us must fall, or both must fall, In contest at this ford. And well we know What must be, must be. Man may not avoid His hour of birth, nor yet his hour of death; But he is driven and constrained to come Unto that sod where his last grave shall be.” They rested there that night. Their charioteers Lay at one fire; and their horses stayed In one enclosure. And the men of healing Came to watch o’er the wounded heroes there, Putting unto each grievous hurt and wound Their powerful phrases, able words and charms And spells and incantations. Only so Might they alleviate the sore pain, and staunch The flowing blood—so bitter and so deep Their hurts and injuries and gory wounds. Of every spell and every powerful charm Brought by the men of healing for Cucullin, He sent one half south-westward o’er the ford Unto Faerdeeah. And of all pleasant food, And all exhilarating, mirthful ale, Brought by the men of Erin to Faerdeeah, He sent one half north-eastward o’er the ford To help Cucullin. In the early morn They rose and came unto the ford of battle. Cucullin saw a darkly-lowering cloud Upon Faerdeeah’s face that morn, and said: “Thou art not well to-day, my friend, Faerdeeah. Dulled is thy hair, and drowsy is thine eye: Thy freshness and thy form have gone from thee.” “’Tis not through fear of thee that I am so,” Replied Faerdeeah; “there is not in Erin A champion I could not subdue this day. What arms or weapons shall we fight with now?” Cucullin answered: “Thine the choice of arms Until the night; for in the day just past The choice was mine.” “Let us,” Faerdeeah said, “Take up our heavy and hard-smiting swords. Thereby we shall be nearer to our end Than by the thrusting we were yesterday.” Then they put on two long and ample shields, And took their heavy and hard-smiting swords; And they began to hit and hew and strike And smite each other; and continued so From early morning till the evening fell. “Let us forsake this now,” Faerdeeah said. “Let us, if it be time,” Cucullin answered. It was a parting of two mournful men, Two sorrowful, disheartened ones, that night. Their steeds were not in the one fold that night, Nor lay their charioteers by the one fire. In woe and grief they rested that night there. And early on the morrow morn arose Faerdeeah, and went forward all alone Unto the ford of battle; for he knew That was the day which finally should end Their striving and their combat; and he knew That one of them would fall, or both would fall, Upon that day. And then it was indeed That he put on his battle-suit of battle Before the coming of Cucullin towards him. He put against his whitely-gleaming skin His filmy foo-a-vrōg of kingly srōl Hemmed up with spangled gold; and over that His foo-a-vrōg of leather, brown, well-smoothed. And over that he placed a disc of stone, Huge like a mill-stone; and placed o’er these all His iron foo-a-vrōg, steadfast and deep, Of tempered iron; and all this he did Through fear and dread of the Gae Bulg that day. Then he put round his head his crested cathbarr, Whereon, in the divisions, forty gems Of carbuncle were set, which flamed and glowed; And it was outlined well with crooan-stones And crystal and jewels of light that men had brought From the far eastern world. In his right hand He took his stalwart, death-producing spear. He placed on his left hip his curvéd sword With golden hilt and hand-guard of red gold. He hung upon the broad slope of his back His shield with hornéd rivets, that was formed Of fifty strong concentric rings encircling A central boss of glorious, flaming gold. That morn Faerdeeah practised many a feat, And many an art adroit and wonderful, And many a movement that he ne’er had learned From Ooaha, from Scawtha or from Weefa, But had contrived himself, to be attempted That day against Cucullin. And Cucullin Came to the ford, and saw each noble feat And all the arts adroit and wonderful Faerdeeah practised there; and then he said: “My good friend Laeg, thou seest the noble feats Faerdeeah practises; and well we know That all these arts in turn will here to-day Be tried against me. Therefore thou, good Laeg, If they prevail against me in the least, If I begin to yield or waver here, Thou shalt incite me and find fault with me, And rail at me with sour, disdainful words, That so thou mayst arouse my rage and ire. But if it be that I prevail, then praise me, Commend me, and speak kind, applauding words, That so my hope and spirit may grow the more.” And Laeg replied: “Thus, surely, will I do.” Cucullin then put on his noble garb Of battle and of combat; and he too Performed adroit and accurate turns of skill, And feats and arts that he had never learned With Ooaha, with Scawtha, or with Weefa. Faerdeeah witnessed all those feats, and knew Each would be tried against him in its turn. “What arms of valour shall we take to-day?” Inquired Cucullin; and Faerdeeah said: “Thine is the choice of arms until the night.” “Let us, then, try the ford-feat,” said Cucullin. “Let us,” replied Faerdeeah, “if so thou wilt.” Howbeit, though thus Faerdeeah gave consent, The choice was unto him a cause of grief; For, until then, Cucullin had o’erthrown All champions and all heroes whomsoever Who in the ford-feat had encountered him. Illustrious and awful was the fight That they fought out upon the ford that day— Those two exalted warriors, those two heroes, Those high-born ones with gift-bestowing hands, Those well-belovéd pillars of all valour, Those keys of valour of the valiant Gael, Those two dear friends, brought to such dreadful fight Through the skilled instigation and inciting And the skilled wiles and slanderous words of Maev. From early morning till the midday hour They cast and hurled; but when the midday came, Their battle-anger rose and boiled with fury. And from that hour their rage and battle-fury Seethed in their hearts, so that each knew no more That he was fighting with his friend and comrade; But each thought only of the strife and combat. And each drew nigh the other. Then it was That from the very brink of the wide ford Cucullin leapt, and lighted on the boss, The golden central boss, of the great shield Faerdeeah son of Daman held before him. For thus he hoped to strike Faerdeeah’s head Over the border of the mighty shield. But, straight, Faerdeeah with his left elbow dealt The shield a blow, and cast Cucullin back, Light as a bird, on the ford’s brink again. Again Cucullin leapt, and deftly lighted On the great boss, to reach Faerdeeah’s head. Faerdeeah dealt the shield a mighty blow With his left knee, and cast Cucullin back, Light as a child, on the ford’s brink again. And Laeg perceived that thing. “Alas!” said Laeg, “The man who is against thee casts thee now As a lewd woman casts away her child: He flings thee as the river flings the foam: He grinds thee as the mill grinds the fresh malt: He cuts thee as the wood-axe cuts the oak: He binds thee as the woodbine binds the tree: He pounces on thee as the hawk doth pounce On tiny birds: and thou hast now no kin And no relationship to men of valour From this time forth, thou small distorted sprite.” Then, with the swiftness of the cold spring wind, With the adroitness of a swallow flying, Cucullin once again sprang through the air, And lighted once again upon the boss Of the great shield, to strike Faerdeeah’s head. Faerdeeah gave the shield a sudden shake, And cast Cucullin back on the ford’s brink, As though he had ne’er leapt from it at all. Then, for the first time in their awful combat, Cucullin was distorted with his rage And filled with swelling, as a bladder is filled With a man’s breath; and he appeared to be— To those who watched—some giant, terrible, Strange, and discoloured. Like a Man of the Sea, Or huge Fomorian from the north, he stood In perfect height against Faerdeeah there. So close the combat was, which there they made, That now their heads encountered o’er their shields, And now their feet below them; and their hands Met in the middle part, beyond the plates And borders of the shields. So close their fight, Their shields were burst and rifted from the rim Unto the central part. So close their fight, Their spears were bent and doubled from the point Unto the haft. So close the fight they made, The unseen Bannanahs and Boccanahs And the Glen-folk and Spirits of the Air Screamed from the edges of their shields, and cried From each sword-hilt and spear-shaft; and the herds Of horses of the men of Erin brake In fright and fury from their rings and tethers, And fled in madness. And the little folk And women and youths and cowardly folk and fools Broke from the camp south-westwards in their fright And wild alarm and terror in that hour. They now were at the edge-feat with their swords. Faerdeeah found a chance upon Cucullin For one brief instant; and he dealt a blow With his bone-hafted dagger, till its blade Was hidden in Cucullin’s chest. The blood Fell on Cucullin’s girdle; and the ford Was reddened with his blood. Cucullin then Held out no longer; for Faerdeeah still Was striking his annihilating blows, And his long blows, and his great middle blows, Upon him there; and he called out to Laeg To send him the Gae Bulg. Faerdeeah heard Cucullin calling for that spear of Scawtha. He made a downward stroke with his great shield To shield his under-part. Cucullin hurled Out of his palm a short, straight dart athwart The upper margin of Faerdeeah’s shield, And through the throat-vent of his horn-skin armour, So that the point thereof was visible, After its piercing of Faerdeeah’s heart, Within his breast and side. Faerdeeah then Made a swift, upward stroke with his great shield To shield his over-part; though this was help Arriving when too late. And Laeg meanwhile Directed the Gae Bulg along the stream. Cucullin with the toes of his feet received it. He gave a choice cast of the Scythian weapon Upward against Faerdeeah; and it pierced The iron foo-a-vrōg of tempered iron, And clove the disc of stone into three parts, And pierced through all the coverings of his frame, So that each inward part of him was filled With spear-heads of the opening Gae Bulg. “That is henceforth enough,” Faerdeeah said: “O Hound of beautiful and wondrous feats, I fall by that.” The heavy mist of death Came o’er Faerdeeah. And Cucullin ran And closed his hands around him; and he bore him With all his arms and his accoutrements North-eastward o’er the ford, and up the bank, That so the trophies of the victory Might be with him north-eastward of the ford, Not with the men of Erin on the south. Then on the ground he laid Faerdeeah down. His battle-fury now had gone from him; And a thick cloud of faintness and of pain Descended densely on him while he bent O’er the dead body of Faerdeeah there. This was perceived by Laeg. “Master,” said Laeg, “Hasten away. The men of Erin come; And ’tis not single combat they will give us, Faerdeeah son of Daman being slain.” “Why should I haste, my servant?” moaned Cucullin; “And what have I to do with rising now? The utmost folly and rage of grief is mine, After my swording of this noble one. Would rather he had lopped from me each limb Ere this thing had befallen!” “Nay,” said Laeg, “Triumph, elation, spirit, and delight Befit thee now. At thee he dealt his blows Unfriendly, envious, lamentable. Now Faerdeeah of the Hosts has fallen. Now Maev has received her deadliest grief of all. Hasten away, O Slaughter-hound of Avvin, And heal thy wounds; and when they are whole again, Great joy and exultation shall be thine.” Cucullin heeded not; but he began To moan and to complain and to lament Above Faerdeeah there, and spake these words: “Alas, Faerdeeah! great the treachery The men of Erin did thee! Wherefore now Didst thou lend ear to the deceiving words Of the fair western women? Didst thou think That Findabair would be for thee? As well Tie with a thong the shifting river-sand As think to win her! Unto many more Had she been promised, ere Maev promised thee. But never shall they find another hero Like thee to fight for Croohan—nevermore One of like deeds in battle, summoning The red-mouthed Bive to scream above the slain. And never shall they see the like of thee, Cloud-coloured son of Daman, whose bright face Was like the clouds of dawn. Oh, dear to me Thy ruddy freshness, dear thy shapely form, Thy pure blue eye and yellow-streaming hair, Thy gifts of wisdom and of eloquence! Oh, woe that thou shouldst die while I remain! I have not known one like thee, my Faerdeeah!” So spake Cucullin and was silent. Yet He moved not; but he gazed upon Faerdeeah. And then he spake, and said: “My good friend Laeg, Remove Faerdeeah’s armour. Let me see The golden brooch that pledged him to this fight.” And Laeg removed the armour; and they saw The golden brooch. Cucullin wept and said: “It was not right, Faerdeeah, so to come To fight with me. When we were far away With Scawtha in the east, we thought unkindness Could never be between us. Now, good Laeg, Open the body, and take out the spear. I cannot be without the Gae Bulg.” Laeg Opened the body and took out the spear. Cucullin saw his weapon, red with blood, Lying beside Faerdeeah; and he said: “O my Faerdeeah, sorrowful the fate! I, with my merciless weapon still unwashed: Thou, pale in death upon a couch of gore. Sad—what has come of our meeting here— I, wounded, sinking, covered with rough gore: Thou, altogether dead! Oh, dear to me The friend to whom I have served a draught of blood!” “Good, now, Cucullin, let us leave the ford,” Said Laeg; “too long have we been here.” “Aye, Laeg,” Cucullin answered, “we will leave.” But still He gazed back at Faerdeeah; and he said: “Now every other combat I have fought Seems but a game of play. Alas! I loved This pillar of gold whom now I have overthrown. Huge, like a mountain, he seemed yesterday: To-day his shadow only doth remain. There hath not come unto a gory battle, Nor hath old Banba nursed upon her breast, Nor hath there e’er been known on sea or land, Of sons of warriors, one of better fame.” Laeg on the chariot placed his suffering lord, And drove a goad into the waiting steeds; And so Cucullin, while the evening fell, Into the blue-black forest rode away, Wounded well-nigh to death. The men of Erin Interred Faerdeeah in a noble grave, With his rich dress and war-accoutrements, And shield and spear and all his various arms. There the green-surfaced hill was closed above him, Beside the ford to which they gave his name. [Illustration: “THE DEATH OF FAERDEEAH.”] BOOK XIII BOOK XIII From out of Ulster some few men arrived To help Cucullin, and console and aid And ease him. These were Shennel Ooaha And the two sons of Gaega—Muridah And Cotreb. These men carried him away To bathe his wounds and make clear water strike Against his gashes, plunged in brooks and streams Of Connallia Mweerhevna. For his friends, The unseen Thooaha Dae Danann, then Were strowing plants and herbs of health and healing On each pure stream of Connallia Mweerhevna, To help Cucullin; so that each bright stream Was greenly checkered with them. Now, the names Of those bestrown, bright streams which helped Cucullin Are these:—the Sawss, the Booan, the Billawn, The Finnglass, the light Glore, the Glenawin, The Baeg, the Tahg, the Telamet, the Rind, The Bir, the Brenid, the Deehaem, the Mooah, The Meelic, the cramped Cumung, and the Cullin, The Ganawin, the Drong, the Delt, the Dooglass. And so the soilure and the dangerous venom Were laved from out his wounds. And, after that, Dry wisps and pads of grass and moss were placed Against those wounds. And supple willow-wands Were arched above him to sustain his bratt; Because his wounds and gashes were so great That he might not endure it if his raiment Should reach his skin. And thus that day his life Was kept within Cucullin; yet it wanted Only a little, and he would have died Despite that help, so bitter were his hurts After that awful combat with Faerdeeah. And while Cucullin thus was bathed and tended The Four Great Fifths of Erin went south-west From Ath Faerdeeah; and they drew nigh Taltin— The burial-field of Ulster kings and queens And kingly princes; and they drove with them Their captives and their droves of Ulster kine, Thinking to drive them through the wide west ford, And into Connaught, ere the men of Ulster Should rise from out their Kesh; and Maev sent forth Mac Roth her messenger, e’en to the hills And crags and green-grassed summits of Slieve Foo-id, To watch the north, that thus in Avvin Maha The men of Ulster might not rise in arms Without her having swift advice and warning. This is the time wherein the charioteers Of Ulster—three times fifty charioteers— Accoutering themselves with warlike arms, Came south against the hosts. There fell by them Thrice their own number, ere those charioteers From Ulster in the field themselves fell slain. This is the time when aged Illiah The son of Cass the son of Bac the son Of Ross the Red-haired son of Rury More, Resting in old-age maintenance—maintained In green Rath Immil, by his son’s famed son, By Laery the Victorious—was informed How, throughout all the cold, dark winter months, Even from Sowin till the opening spring, The Four Great Fifths of Erin had been spoiling, And laying waste and ravaging and burning, All Ulster and all Crithny. Illiah Took counsel with his folk. “What counsel now,” Said he, “would seem to you more wise than this, Namely, that I should travel south forthwith To attack the men of Erin, and to take Spoils from their armies, and avenge a little The honour of all Ulster? If thereafter I fall myself and die, that is all one.” His folk approved of that. They caught for him His two old, yellow, withered, wasted steeds, Which were upon the shore beside the doon. They brought his old-time, antique chariot out, That was without cushion or coverlet, And yoked it on the steeds. His rough, grey shield Of iron, with its hard encircling rim Of hardened silver, he took up. He took His rough, grey-hilted sword on his left side. He took his two blunt spears with shaking heads Into his chariot; and his folk arranged Round stones and pillar-stones and great, flat flags About him in his chariot. Furnished so He travelled south against the men of Erin. Ere long the hosts perceived him. Then the men, Seeing that agéd, naked warrior come, His spittle of old age down through the gaps In the old osier-woven chariot-floor Slow-dripping, laughed aloud their mocking laugh. “Good would it seem to us,” they said, “if such Were the description of each man from Ulster Who e’er should come against us!” In that hour Dōha the son of Mahga passed that way. Full quickly he restrained the rabble-crowd. He went to Illiah, and welcomed him. “Welcome thy coming, noble Illiah!” Said Dōha. “What man is it who thus greets me?” Old Illiah queried. “’Tis the friend and comrade Of Laery the Victorious,” Dōha said. “’Tis Dōha son of Mahga.” “Dear to me Thy welcome is, then,” Illiah replied; “Therefore draw near me after some short while, When all my valour shall have withered up, And all my weapons shall have been expended, That thou thyself and not some other man Among the men of Erin mayst be he Who strikes my head from me. And let my sword Be kept by thee for Laery.” The old man Then with his weapons wrought upon the hosts Until his weapons had been all expended; And when his weapons had been all expended, He wrought upon them with his rocky weights— Round stones and pillar-stones and great, flat flags, Which he had there—till these had been expended. And when his flags and stones had been expended, He wrought upon them with his arms. He seized Whichever man among the men of Erin Came near; and ’twixt his forearms and his fists Compressed and chafed him till he made of him A marrow-mass, wherein formless were mingled Sinews and skin and bones and hair and flesh. One of the three chief wonders of the Táin Is the great number whom he wrought on so, Ere all his old-age valour was expended; And when his strength and valour were expended, Descrying Dōha, he called out to him: “Come to me now, O Dōha son of Mahga! Now strike my head from me; but let my sword Be kept by thee for Laery.” Dōha came. With one swift sword-blow he struck off the head From the old warrior; and in this way ended “The stone-attack of agéd Illiah.” Now—though the king and chiefs in Avvin Maha Arose not yet out of their blinding Kesh, Which had been paining them and blinding them— Yet, by degrees, in other parts of Ulster, Some few great Ulster chiefs arose with life, And came to attack the hosts. The first of these Was the famed warrior-poet, Avver-guin The son of Cass the son of Bac the son Of Ross the Red-haired son of Rury More. He was the father of great Conall Carna, Who at this time was gathering rent and tribute For Ulster, in the isles beyond the sea. Avver-guin reached the hosts as they were passing With all their throngs to westward over Taltin, The ancient burial-field of Ulster kings And princes; and he drove them back once more Before him over Taltin, toward the north. He put his firm left elbow under him In Taltin, and his folk provided him With stones and pillar-stones, and great flat flags; And with these missiles he assailed the hosts Throughout the space of three days and three nights. This was the time when, in the far south-west, In Caher Conroi, Cooroi son of Dawra, Having returned from warfare in far Scythia, Was told how through those long, dark, winter months, Even from Sowin till the opening spring, The Four Great Fifths of Erin had been stayed And held in check and hindered and delayed By one man all alone. Now, as for Cooroi, Since first he had taken arms, he had not reddened His sword in Erin; for there was not room In Erin for his pride and haughtiness And warrior-fulness; and he e’er had reddened His sword in distant lands. But when he heard How the Four Fifths of Erin had been hindered By one man all alone, he said: “That man, Indeed, gives worthy matter for a combat.” And Cooroi son of Dawra went forthwith To seek hard battle-combat with Cucullin. Then, when he came to the lone forest-hiding Wherein Cucullin was, and saw Cucullin Crying with bitter pain, and full of wounds, And pierced and hurt, it did not seem to him Noble or hero-like or full of honour To seek a combat with him. “For,” he said, “It would not be the wounds given by me, Which would now cause his death; ’twould be the wounds Which he obtained in combat with Faerdeeah.” Cooroi the son of Dawra therefore left Cucullin; and he went to join the hosts, And to have speech with his own household people Who were upon that hosting. When he came And joined the hosts, he perceived Avver-guin, Westward of Taltin, hurling at the hosts, With his left elbow under him. Then Cooroi Passed round the men of Erin toward the north Of Taltin; and his folk provided him With stones and pillar-stones and great, flat flags; And face to face he assailed Avver-guin, So that the rocks and pillar-stones and flags Answered each other in the air, and clashed Amidst the clouds and in the air above The heads of all those hosts. A hundred stones Were made of every separate stone of them Amidst the clouds and winds above their heads. “Upon the truth of valour which thou hast, O Cooroi,” Maev said, “cease from this thy hurling: ’Tis not good help that comes to us therefrom, But evil help.” “I give my word,” said Cooroi, “I will not cease until the Breast of Doom, Or until Avver-guin shall cease.” Thereon Avver-guin said: “I will cease verily; And bind thyself to come again no more To help these hosts of Erin.” Cooroi then Accepted that; and went upon his road To his own folk and his own high-walled doon— To Caher Conroi in the far south-west. During this time the hosts of Erin passed O’er Taltin toward the west. “It was not this,” Said Avver-guin, “which Cooroi bound on me Namely, that I should ne’er begin again To hurl against yon hosts.” Therefore, again He went to westward of them, and he drove them Before him over Taltin toward the north; And he began to hurl, and hurled at them For a long while and a great space of time. And then it was that all the men of Erin Said it would not dishonour Avver-guin, If they should leave their camp in Taltin empty, And if their hosts should go for one day’s journey Back toward the north, so that they might be stayed And be delayed upon their road to Connaught; And if, on his part, Avver-guin should stay His deeds of valour from the hosts of Erin, Until the day when, in a powerful battle, The Five Great Fifths of Erin should be met Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig, As now their druids and their seers and prophets Were prophesying they should meet. He said He would accept that. Then the hosts went back One full day’s journey toward the north; and he, Keeping in Taltin, stayed his deeds of valour Against the men of the Four Fifths of Erin. The next of the great Ulster chiefs to come To do his deeds against the hosts of Erin Was Rōhee son of Faha-win, who came From Reedonn in the north. He brought with him Thrice fifty warriors; and he seized a hill Facing the hosts of the Four Fifths of Erin. Findabair daughter of Maev and Al-yill Saw Rōhee on that hill not far from them; And he was thus:—a hero than whom none Could be more comely or more beautiful; For on his head there was a bushy grove Of hair red-yellow; and his pure-skinned face Was broad above and narrowed toward the chin; His eyes were very blue, keen with high pride, Like laughing candles in his head; his lips Were rosy, thin; his teeth gleamed like clear pearls; His figure was erect and tall and even, Broad at the shoulder, narrow-hipped, white-skinned. He wore a layna made of royal srōl With margin-hems of gold. His bratt of crimson Was fastened with a princely yō of gold. He wore a white-bright shield, whereon were beasts Of twisted gold. His dazzling warrior-sword Was golden-hilted; and his spear was long, Grey-edged, and done with rivets of findrinny. In all wide Erin there had ne’er been seen A hero-chief more beautiful; and maidens Throughout wide Erin loved him for the tales Which were related of his shape and beauty. Findabair daughter of Maev and Al-yill, When she perceived that warrior Rōhee there, Grew rosy and then pale; and ere the eve She to her mother, even to Maev, spake all Her whisper and her secret. “O dear mother,” She said, “’tis yonder hero whom I love; And who (since I have seen him) e’er will be The man to whom my thoughts will cleave—the man Whom I would choose to be my love and wooer.” And Maev replied: “Dear child, if thou dost love him, He shall be thine. Sleep with him, then, this night; But, first of all, ask of him that he stay His deeds of valour from these hosts of Erin, Until the day when, in a powerful battle, The Five Great Fifths of Erin shall be met Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig, As now our druids and our seers and prophets Are prophesying they shall meet.” And Rōhee The son of Faha-win accepted that; And Findabair daughter of Maev and Al-yill Went to the tent of Rōhee that same night. Now one among the seven under-kings Of Munster who had come upon that hosting Was told of this. He spake unto his people: “That maid was promised to myself,” he said, “Long before this. That was indeed the reason Why I came forth upon this war and hosting.” Each of the seven under-kings of Munster Said the same words; and that that was the reason Why he himself had come upon the hosting. “And wherefore should we not now go,” they said, “To avenge our honour on those seven men, Those seven Mahn-yas, sons of Maev and Al-yill, Who now keep guard to rearward of these hosts, In the low-lying Im-lee of Glendomna?” This was the counsel which they deemed the best. Then they arose—each with his warrior-cantred. And, on the other part, Al-yill and Maev And all the seven sons of Mahga rose With their own people and their warrior-cantreds. And it was then that Fergus son of Roy Rose with his cantred to make intercession And peace between them. But to make that peace Was putting hand to a great work; for ere That peace was made, and all sat down in quiet Beside their comrades and beside their arms, Hundreds of very valiant men had fallen On both those sides. And this, indeed, was one Of three uncounted slaughters on the Táin, Which were: the Shessra of the Bressla More, This “Imlee of Glendomna,” and the battle Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig, The battle of the Táin. And Findabair Daughter of Maev and Al-yill heard these tidings, Namely, that those unnumbered men had fallen Through her occasion. And she had not known Of all the promises which had been made Before the Táin. Then, when she heard these tidings, Her heart within her breast broke and was cloven With shame and generous feeling towards those men. And she found death; and she was buried straightway. And that red, heath-grown, very lonely hill, Wherein that day with grief they buried her, After that time was called Slieve Findabair. And on that heath-grown hill they wailed above her Her death-wail, and her loud, long burial-cry— E’en as in old, old, very far-back days, Brigit the daughter of the mighty Dagda Had ordered and ordained; for it was Brigit, That woman-poet and that woman-druid, The goddess whom all poets love and worship, Who had ordained that in all time to come There should be wailing o’er the dead in Erin. The hosts of Erin said: “White was this fight For Rōhee son of Faha-win—unnumbered Full-valiant men to fall through his occasion, And he without a redness or a wound.” The hosts of Erin travelled toward the west, And made their camps that night in Slane of Meath. Of “Sooaltim’s Repeated Warning” now We next must tell. Sooaltim had been told How his young son, the son of Dectora, Namely, Cucullin, was in hard oppression Of very wrongful and unequal combat With Calateen of many dangerous arts Together with his seven and twenty sons, And his young grandson, Glass the son of Delga. Then, after some delaying, Sooaltim Went forth to find Cucullin; and he found him In wounds and pain, wounded well-nigh to death After his awful combat with Faerdeeah. And Sooaltim began to wail above him, And to cry out with pity and with woe. Then to Cucullin it seemed loss of honour That Sooaltim should wail above him—seeing That, though he was in wounds and grief and pain, This Sooaltim could not avenge him. Thus Was Sooaltim:—no mighty, wondrous warrior, And yet no bad, mean warrior; but a good, Plain, homely, ordinary man-at-arms. Cucullin then spake unto Sooaltim: “Good, now, my father Sooaltim,” he said, “Cease from thy wailing; and away with thee To Avvin Maha to the men of Ulster. Say to them that they now must come themselves After their wives and babes and driven kine. I am unfit to guard them any longer Amidst the gaps and passes of the land Of Connallia Mweerhevna. All alone I have been facing the Four Fifths of Erin Since Sowin, until now, when Spring begins. And I have slain one warrior at a ford Each day, or else each night one hundred men. The Faith of Men has not been kept with me In single combat at the battle-ford; For they sent many men to fight with one. They are bent willow-wands which hold my bratt Above me, that it may not touch my skin. They are dry wisps of moss which dress my wounds. E’en from my crown unto my soles there is No place whereon a needle-point might rest, Which is without some gash or hurt or wound. There is not on me e’en one single hair Without its dew-like drop of deep red blood Held on its point—save on my left hand only, Wherewith I held my shield; and my left hand Has thrice ten wounds. Unless they come to avenge These things forthwith, they never will avenge them Until the Breast of Judgment and of Doom.” Then Laeg led up the wondrous Leea Maha, Cucullin’s steed, who once from the Grey Lake On lone Slieve Foo-id had come forth to him, So that he cast his arms about his neck And wrestled with him, making him his own. (And now that steed would love him till his death.) And Sooaltim upon the Leea Maha, Cucullin’s steed, rode north to Avvin Maha, With warnings unto Ulster. When he reached The side of Avvin, he cried out the words: “In Ulster men are slain, O men of Ulster! Women are carried captive! Kine are driven!” Howbeit, he found not from the men of Ulster The answer which he would have deemed sufficient. And, since he found it not, he went yet further, E’en to the top of the high, girdling rampart Of Avvin; and he called the same words there: “In Ulster men are slain, O men of Ulster! Women are carried captive! Kine are driven!” And still he found not from the men of Ulster The answer which he would have deemed sufficient. For thus the men of Ulster were:—’twas gass To all of them to speak before their king Should speak; and to the king himself ’twas gass To speak before the druids who were with him Should speak. And Sooaltim went further yet, E’en to the Flagstone of the Hostages ’Midst Avvin; and he called the same words there; “In Ulster men are slain, O men of Ulster! Women are carried captive! Kine are driven!” Then Cathbad, the great Druid, spake—yet spake As one who still was dreaming:—“Who has slain?” He said, “and who has captured? Who has driven?” “Al-yill and Maev have come despoiling you,” Cried Sooaltim, “and they have seized your women, Your youths, your tender lads and little ones, Your horses and your troops of mares, your kine, Both milch and dry, your bulls, your numerous herds. Cucullin all alone has stayed and hindered And held in check the Four Great Fifths of Erin, Amid the gaps and passes and defiles Of Conallia Mweerhevna. In his combats They broke the Faith of Men with him. No man From Ulster goes to aid him or to help him. The lad was wounded. He is crushed and broken. They are bent willow-wands which hold his bratt Above him that it may not touch his skin. There is not on him any single hair Without its dew-like drop of deep red blood Held on its point—save on his left hand only, Wherewith he held his shield; and his left hand Has thrice ten wounds. Unless ye go to avenge These things forthwith, ye never will avenge them Until the Breast of Judgment and of Doom.” “The man who thus incites his own high-king Is fit for death,” said Cathbad the great Druid. “That which is said by Sooaltim is true,” Said Conor. “It is true,” said all the men In Avvin all together; but they spake As men who still were dreaming. Sooaltim, Because he found not from the men of Ulster The answer which he would have deemed sufficient, Went from them, then, in anger and great rage And very venomous ire and fierce wrath, And spake no further warning. It was then That the dear steed, Cucullin’s Leea Maha, Who loved Cucullin and who grieved for him, Reared beneath Sooaltim; but Sooaltim Rode on o’er the high rampart-mound of Avvin Unheeding of that sign. Then his own shield Turned against Sooaltim; and the sharp rim Of his own shield struck at his neck, and struck The head from Sooaltim, whereat the steed, Cucullin’s steed, the loving Leea Maha, Himself went back to Avvin; and the shield Was on the steed, and in the hollow shield Was the swayed head of Sooaltim. The head Of Sooaltim cried out the self-same words: “In Ulster men are slain, O men of Ulster! Women are carried captive! Kine are driven!” Then Conor heard the cry of the dead head Of Sooaltim. He rose and spake, yet spake As one who still was dreaming: he was dulled By his confusion in his Kesh and sleep. “That cry of lamentation is a little Too mournful and too great,” he said, “because The heaven is above us and the earth Is underneath us, and the blue-rimmed sea Is round us in a circuit. And unless The firmament with all its showers of stars Shall fall upon the firm face of the earth— Unless the many-furrowed, blue-rimmed sea Shall veil the thick-haired forehead of the world— Unless the earth shall break and yawn beneath us— I will bring back each of those captured women To her own place and her own Ulster dwelling, I will bring back each of those driven kine To her own stead and her own field for grazing, By victory of battle and of conflict, Of combat and of contest and of war.” And it was then that Conor saw his son, Finn-ha Faerbend. (And he was called “Faerbend,” “The Man of Horns,” because he used to wear Horns of bright silver on his head.) And Conor Bade him go forth to muster and to gather The men of Ulster; and he named to him The men whom he should summon; and he named In equal way the living and the dead: He yet was one part dream-blind, and was dulled By his confusion in his Kesh and sleep. He said: “O Finn-ha, go from me. Go forth To Conall Carna son of Avver-guin At Meedlougher; to Mend son of Sal-colgan Beside the white-bright Boyne; to the three sons Of Feeacna who own the Donn of Cooley, Namely, to Dawra, Ross, and Im-ha, south In Cooley; to great Connud son of Morna, Beside the Callan; to wise Avver-guin The poet, by the Bush in the far north. To Laery the Victorious son of Connud, By his own loch at Immil; to wise Finguin The leech of Finngower; to Cooscree Mend, The son of Conor, in green Innish Cooscree; To Foorbee Faerbenn son of Conor, at Seel On green Moy Innish; to renowned Cucullin The son of Sooaltim, on Moy Mweerhevna; To Owen son of Door-ha King of Farney; To Blai the brewy, in the Ards of Ulster; To Avver-guin of white-foamed Assaroe; To huge, thick-necked Munnrower son of Guerkind, From out of Mourne; to Kehern son of Finntan, At Carrloig; to great-spirited Folloon, Conor’s young son, who heads the lads in Avvin; To Illann son of Fergus son of Roy, In Gower; to strong Broo-aher, in Slawnga; To Shenca, the sweet-worded one of Ulster, In his own house; to Muridah and Cotreb And Shennel Ooaha; to the great queen, Namely, Findmore the warrior-wife of Keltar, In strong Dunseverick by the northern sea; To Rōhee, in bright Reedonn; to great Keltar The son of Oo-hider, in Doon Le-Glass; To Aerrga Ecbael, in his own Bree Aerrga.” These are a few of those great kings and princes And hero-chiefs whom Conor named that day. But many more he named. Not difficult Indeed to Finn-ha was that mustering, That congregating and that war-assembling, Which Conor gave to him to make. For those Who then were west or north or east of Avvin Came, without pause, unto the Green of Avvin, Under obedience to their ruling kings, And at the words of their own chiefs and princes, To serve this rising and this war of Conor. But those who then were south of smooth-bright Avvin, Went without pause along the track and road Of the great hosts of the Four Fifths of Erin. The first day’s travel which the men of Ulster Made around Conor brought them ere night fell To high Ardcullin. “Wherefore halt we here, O men?” said Conor. “We halt here,” said they, “Awaiting thy two sons, Feeaha, namely, And Feeacna, who went from us to Tara, To fetch therefrom thy little grandson Erc, The son of Fedilmid, the Blooming One, Thy daughter. For, although he be the son Of Carpry Neea Faer, of Al-yill’s brother, Who sides with Maev upon this war and hosting, They ask him now to come, with the full strength Which he can muster forth on this occasion, To help his mother’s father.” Conor said: “I will no longer halt upon Ardcullin; Because the men of Erin have not heard That I have risen from that darkening pain And Kesh wherein we were; they have not heard That I am yet alive after that pain.” And it was then that Conor son of Fahtna And Keltar son of Oo-hider went forward With three times fifty well-armed chariot-heroes, Till they reached Ath Neermeeda. Nigh that ford They saw eight twenties of huge, powerful men Of the especial folk of Maev and Al-yill; And with them were eight twenties of the women Of Ulster in hard bondage and oppression. This was their share of the rich spoil of Ulster:— A woman in the hand of every man. Conor and Keltar took from those huge men Their eight times twenty heads; and they delivered Those women from their bondage and oppression. After that time, that ford was called Ath Fayna, “Ford of the Warriors,” because thus the warriors Of east and west encountered there that day. Conor and Keltar turned again and stayed On high Ardcullin nigh their hosts that night. That night on high Ardcullin ’midst his sleep Keltar the son of Oo-hider was troubled And stirred by visions, and he sang these words: “Gather yourselves, ye warriors and ye heroes! A mighty battle will be fought by you. The heavy-sodded earth will shake with you. Thick showers of spears will be hurled forth by you. Deep, vengeful wounds shall be thick-dealt by you. Ye shall inflict horror and fear and dread. Ye shall inflict pale death and lasting shame. Gather yourselves, ye warriors and ye heroes! A very mighty battle will be fought Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig At morn upon a day which now is near us.” That night on Slane of Meath amidst his sleep Cormac Conlingish son of Conor son Of Fahtna Fahee was perturbed and troubled And stirred by visions; and he sang the words: “Wondrous the morn! Wondrous the time of meeting! Hosts will be mixed. Hosts will be turned in flight. Throats will be broken, sand and earth be reddened. The kings of Ulster will arise round Conor. They will contend for their own Ulster women. They will contend for their own driven herds, Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig, At morn upon a day which now is near us.” That night on Slane of Meath amidst his sleep Rough Duffa Dael from Ulster lands was troubled And stirred by visions; and he sang the words: “Great are the hosts—the hosts on high Ardcullin. Great is the morn—the morn on wide, fair Meath. Great are the hosts of steeds—the hosts of steeds Which shall be seen on the long road of Assal. Great is the fight—the fight not far from Clahra. Great is the battle-storm—the battle-storm Of men of Ulster round their king, round Conor. They will contend for their own Ulster women. They will contend for their own driven herds, Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig, At morn upon a day which now is near us.” And this indeed is truth, and not a lie: To men of Ulster and to men of Erin This night was not the calmest and the gentlest Which they had ever known upon a hosting, Or e’er would know in any time to come— Because of all the songs and prophecies Which they thus uttered in their time of sleeping, And all the spectres and the loathly shapes, And all the apparitions and the visions Which in the darkness and the doleful gloom Appeared to them amidst their sleep that night. BOOK XIV BOOK XIV At time of the delightfulness and beauty Of the red light of morning, Al-yill rose From out his royal tent on Slane of Meath, And said: “From Sowin until spring-tide now We have been devastating, wasting, burning All Ulster and all Crithny. We have taken From the rich folk of Ulster and of Crithny Their wives and sons and tender little ones, Their steeds and flocks of mares, their herds of kine, Their herds of every sort of grazing kine; And we have levelled down their turfy knolls, Till all their glens and trenches are filled up After our track. Therefore, this being so, I will no longer tarry on this plain; But let them give me battle on Moy Wee If so they will. And still, whate’er we say, Let some one go from us to view yon plain, The great wide plain of Meath, that we may know Whether as yet the men of Ulster come Upon that plain; and if indeed they come, We will not flee unto our rath, it being Unkingly so to flee before a foe.” “Who shall go forth to view the plain?” asked each. “Who but Mac Roth, who is chief-messenger Of Erin all,” said Al-yill; “he stands here.” Mac Roth went forth to view and to survey The clear, wide plain of Meath. Anon he heard, Floating from far away, a muffled roar, A crackling, thunderous murmur, and deep din Of many mingled sounds. It seemed to him To mean no trifling thing—rather it seemed That the secure and solid firmament Descended on the firm face of the earth, Or that the boundless and blue-breasted sea O’erflowed the thick-haired forehead of the world, Or that the earth itself trembled and moved In some tremendous earthquake; or, at least, That the primeval and huge forest trees Fell, each upon the other, caught and grasped Each by the other’s forked and branching boughs. One thing was certain: the wild forest-beasts Were from the distant forest fleeing forth, So that the heath and grass of the wide plain Might not be seen beneath them. And Mac Roth Went to relate his tidings at the place Where Maev and Al-yill were, and Fergus was With all the chiefs. And there he told his tale. “What may that mean, O Fergus?” questioned Maev. “Not difficult,” said Fergus. “The dim roar, And crackling, thunderous murmur which he heard Mean that the northern warriors have awaked From their long Kesh, and now with sword and axe Attack the ancient forest, hewing there A road before their chariots; and all beasts Who in the forest dwell flee forth in fright, So that the heath and grass of the wide plain May not be seen beneath them.” Once again Mac Roth went forth to view the plain. He saw, Hovering far away ’twixt earth and sky, A long, grey mist. It seemed to him he saw, Rising from out the hollows and the dells Of the dim mist, clear eminences, firm, And like dark isles in silver-hollow lakes. He thought that he discerned in the forefront Of the same mist, deep, groaning caves and dens; And, at their openings, fair, white linen cloths Blown by the wind; or a white fairy snow Soft drifting by. And then he seemed to see, Fluttering through the mist, a scattered flock Of various birds, all strange and wonderful; And seemed again to see that the same mist Was spangled all along, as with bright sparks Of newly-kindled fire, or as with stars, Clear-shining on a bright, still night of frost. And while he gazed he heard a growing roar Of mingled booming, crying, thundering, With shrill, sharp snaps and thuds, ringings and cheers, All floating towards him on the eastern wind. And he returned and came unto the place Where Maev and Al-yill were, and Fergus was, With all the chiefs: and there he told his tale. “What may that mean, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “Not difficult,” said Fergus; “that grey mist, Which rose between the heaven and the earth, Was the white, cloudy breath of steeds and men, Fiercely expelled, and mingled with the sand And whirling dust and soilure of the plain. Those little darkling heights and crests he saw, Peeping from out the hollows of the mist— They were the heads of kings and mighty men, High-towering o’er their chariots. And the dens And deep engulfing caverns he discerned— They were the mouths and nostrils of the steeds And mighty men, opened, distended wide, Strongly respiring the free air and wind. And what unto Mac Roth seemed fairy snow Or linen-web was the white foam and froth Flung from the bridle-bits of fiery steeds, Urging their course with strength and vehemence. Again, what to Mac Roth seemed flocks of birds, All varied, numerous, strange, and wonderful, Were the quick turves and sods shot from the hooves Of the same fiery steeds as on they come. And all the mingled uproar that he heard Was the loud shield-cry of the mighty shields, The hissing of the spears, ringing of swords, Clangour of helmets, friction manifold Of high-suspended weapons, and, besides, Creaking of cords and ropes, grinding of wheels, Tramping of steeds, and, through and over all, The ceaseless tread of battle-warriors there, Swift marching towards us o’er the plain of Meath. Lastly, the brilliant spanglings which he saw, Like stars of night, or sparks from ruddy fire— Those were the terrible and flaming eyes Of heroes and of warriors gleaming bright Beneath their shapely helmets. Angrily They shine and glow. And this I say to you, There ne’er have been, and ne’er will be again, Men like to those Ultonian men for fury And battle-anger and the rage of war.” “We care but little for all this,” said Maev; “With us there are good youths and fighting-men Who will know how to greet them.” “Think not so,” Said Fergus; “this is truth and not a lie— That not in Erin, not in all the world, From Greece and Scythia to the Isles of Orc And Isles of Gat, and south to Bregan’s Tower, May ye find hosts to quell Ultonian hosts, Whose rage and anger have been once aroused.” That day the men of Erin left their camp In Slane of Meath; and, moving towards the west, Encamped at night in Clahra. When the sun Rose the next morn and shined with glowing face Above the fair-banked edges of the world— “Good now, O men of Erin!” Al-yill said; “Let some one go from us to view the plain— The great wide plain of Meath; and let him see Whether the men of Ulster yet have come To Slane of Meath where we were yesterday; And let him bring to us a true account Of all their arms and war-accoutrements, Their kings and heroes and their well-known chiefs, Their breakers of great rifts in battle-ranks, With all their troops from all their different lands. To hear these all described will be to us A pastime and will while away the morn.” “Who then shall go?” they asked. “Who but Mac Roth?” Said Al-yill. So Mac Roth went forth once more; And he took up his post in Slane of Meath, Over against the men of Ulster there. From early morning till the evening fell, The Ulster hosts arrived in Slane of Meath. So great their numbers that in all that time The land was ne’er left naked, but was clothed By moving throngs. All orderly they came; For every throng surrounded its own king, And every band its lord. Each chief and lord, With the full muster of his hosting, camped In a clear place apart. When evening fell, All had arrived and camped in Slane of Meath. Mac Roth delayed not till the night had come, But, when the first three powerful bands arrived, Returned to tell his tale. “Good now, Mac Roth,” Said Al-yill; “in what order do they come, And who came first?” “I know not,” said Mac Roth, “But first there came an ardent, stalwart band Of very noble aspect. I esteemed Their numbers to be thrice three thousand. All, Quick flinging off their raiment, dug the earth, And lifted sods, and raised a mighty mound High on the rounded summit of a hill, To be a seat and station for their lord. And he, their lord, was tall and thinly-built, Courteous and proud, of princeliest way and style, Accustomed to command and to restrain, And awful was his kingly gleaming eye. His yellow bush of crispéd drooping hair; His trimly forking beard; his crimson fooan, Folding five times about him; the gold pin Above his breast; the layna next his skin, Of purest white, adorned with threads of gold, Were all of princely mode. He wore, besides, A white-bright shield, adorned with monstrous beasts In deep red gold. In the one hand he bore A golden-hilted sword, and in the other A wide, grey spear. This warrior took his seat High on the mound, and calmly waited there Till all the rest should come; and his own troop Sat down there round about him. Next there came Two bands of thirty hundred, both alike In discipline and number and array. The man who led the first of these had hair And beard like crispéd gold. His warrior’s layna, Of good brown-red with gold embroidery, Descended to his knees; and over it He wore a greenish bratt, with silver clasp. Besides his shield and ivory-hilted sword With golden thread-work, in his hand he bore A shining spear secured with silver bands And clasps of gold; and marvellous the games Played by that spear held in the warrior’s hand; For first the silver bands whirled and revolved Over the clasps of gold from butt to socket, And after that the clasps of gold revolved Above the bands of silver back again. This warrior sat upon the left-hand side Of the great chief who earliest reached the hill; And his own band sat round him. ‘Sat,’ I said, Nay, but with knee to ground and shield to chin, They waited to spring towards us. One thing more, The leader of that band—he with the spear— Wore on his head a mĭnd of glorious gold. The second of those two companion-bands Was ruled o’er by a man sedate, grey-haired, With wide, white brow, and shrewd and kindly eyes. About his chin there hung a long, grey beard, Forking and slender. And his fair apparel Was all of silvery white and darkest grey. For dark grey was his bratt with leafy brooch Of white findrinny; and of purest white The layna next his skin. His shield was white, Adorned with silver. At his shoulder’s height I saw a bough of bronze. This warrior sat High on the mound in presence of the chief Who first arrived there; and I say to you, Sweeter than murmuring of crested harps In hands of skilful players was the sound Of that man’s voice discoursing with the chief Who came first to the hill, and giving him Wise admonition and discreet advice.” “Who may these be, O Fergus?” Al-yill said. “Assuredly, I know,” said Fergus; “he, For whom was raised a mighty mound of sods Where he might sit till all the rest should come, Was Conor son of Fahtna Fahee son Of Ross the Red-haired son of Rury More— Conor, high-king of Ulster, and the son Of a high-king of Erin. He who came And sat on Conor’s left, and wore a mĭnd Of glorious gold, was Cooscree Mend of Maha, From Innish Cooscree. He is Conor’s son, And leads into the war the youthful sons Of lesser Ulster kings, besides the sons Of kings of Erin in his fosterage. The wondrous spear he has, with silver bands And clasps of gold, is known as Cooscree’s Candle. And this, now, is the manner of that spear— The bands of silver never do revolve Around the clasps of gold but at a time When some great prey is nigh. I therefore think They now revolve in sight of some huge prey And near-approaching slaughter. And for him, The wide-browed, gentle hero who did sit In Conor’s presence, and did speak with him, Who could that be but Shenca? he who owns The sweetest oratory and eloquence Of all the men of Erin; he whose words Of eloquence and oratory calm The hosts of Ulster; he who with three words Might calm the war and tumult of the world. Howbeit, I give my word that at this time They are no timorous counsels which he gives Unto his lord, but counsels to fight well, And do great deeds of battle and of courage. Yea, and I give my word,” Fergus exclaimed, “They are deed-doing men who woke from sleep, Round about Conor at earliest dawn to-day!” “I make no great account of them,” said Maev; “With us there are good youths and fighting-men, Who will know how to greet them.” “Nay, not so,” Said Fergus; “this is truth and not a lie,— That not in Erin, not in all the world, From Greece and Scythia to the Isles of Orc And Isles of Gat, and south to Bregan’s Tower, May ye find hosts to quell Ultonian hosts, Whose rage and anger have been once aroused.” Once more Mac Roth went out from them to view The wide great plain of Meath. He watched each band Arrive in Slane of Meath. When all had come, Almost at meeting-point of night with day, He came again with tidings to the place Where Maev and Al-yill were, and Fergus was, With all the chiefs, there to relate his tale. “There came another band unto that hill In Slane of Meath,” Mac Roth continued then. “It is no lie; with raging impetus They gained that hill; and heavy was the dread, And huge the terror they conveyed. Their cloaks Streamed in the air behind them. In their front I saw a valorous leader, whose huge head Was streaked with sparse, grey hairs; and in that head Blazed yellow, full, large eyes. A yellow bratt Fell round about him; and a pin of gold Was in that o’er his breast. A yellow layna Lay next his skin. A wide, long-shafted spear Was in that warrior’s hand. A drop of blood Gleamed on its edge.” “What man was that, O Fergus?” Al-yill demanded. “Well I know,” said Fergus. “Nor single challenger nor mighty host Escapes that hero who approaches there; For that is Laery the Victorious, son Of Connud Boy, the son of that same Illiah, Who of late came from Immil in the north, And in his old age died assailing you.” “There came another band to that same hill,” Mac Roth went on. “A great thick-sided man Commanded it. In truth, it little wanted But that each brawny leg and limb of him Was thicker than a mean man’s trunk! No lie! He is indeed a man! Brown, bushy hair He had upon him; and beneath the hair A scarred, blue-crimson face, and in the face High-up, bright-speckled eyes. He was, moreover, Noble and energetic. All his men Were dark-skinned, dark-eyed; and their red-bronze spears Flamed bright. They seemed not subject unto Conor.” “Who is that, Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know, In truth I know,” said Fergus. “He, who there Approaches, is as one embodied thirst For battle. He is a great lord of arms Above the men of Erin in the north; For he is my own foster-brother, Fergus The son of Leddy, from his wealthy rath In fertile green Moy Linny of the north.” “There came another band unto that hill,” Mac Roth went on. “A four-square, bull-like man Commanded it; and he had bulging eyes, Grey, and set low down in his head. His hair Was curled and yellow; and a scarlet shield, Rimmed with hard silver, made a huge, bright disk Behind his head and shoulders. In his hand He held a smooth, long spear. A grayish bratt Fell round him, and a copper yō secured it Above his mighty chest. His hooded layna, Being up-girded, reached but to his thighs. Upon his left leg was a short, straight dagger.” “Who was that, Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know,” Said Fergus. “He is a stockade of battle Against the face of all of you who go there; For he is Connud the great son of Morna, From green-banked, gentle Callan in the north.” “There came another band unto that hill,” Mac Roth went on, “and they were firm of tread, And wondrously and diversely attired. A beautiful, unresting hero led That band; and he was robed in fine blue cloth, Which was adorned with stooags of findrinny, And at the openings of the garment bore Rich red gold buttons of distinctive stamp And character. Outside he wore a bratt Freaked out with every privileged tint and hue. He had five wheels of gold, namely, his shield. He had a dagger-straight, hard sword. His spear, Ridgéd and straight, flamed redly in his hand.” “Who might that be, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “In truth, I recognize him,” Fergus said. “He is the choicest of all kingly poets; He is a road of learning and of wisdom; For he is Avverguin the great, good poet, And son of Ecket, the old smith and brazier— Avverguin from the Bush in the far north.” “There came another band unto that hill,” Mac Roth continued. “Two soft, tender youths Went in the forefront of that band. Two bratts Of greenish hue were round them; two cassawns Of whitest silver clasped these o’er their breasts; Two laynas of smooth, yellow silk were next Their bird-white skin; and two white-hilted swords Hung at their girdles. Two five-barbéd spears With silver rings were in their hands. There seemed But little difference in age between them.” “Who were those two, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know indeed,” said Fergus. “Two of one counsel, Two of one teaching, two alike in valour, Two fires, two flames, two torches equal burning, Two Ulster champions always next their king. Those there are Feeaha and Feeacna, Two sons of Conor son of Fahtna son Of Ross the Red-haired son to Rury More.” “Another band arrived upon that plain,” Mac Roth continued; “and it was commanded By a white-chested, very comely hero, Much like to Al-yill there in form and style, In strength and whiteness, in array and arms, In bounty and in valour. On his head He wore a mĭnd of gold. His shield was rimmed With gold. His sword-hilt was adorned with gold. His towering, five-barbed spear had gold upon it.” “Who was that hero, Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know that hero,” Fergus said. “His heart Is hard as is a flagstone, yet it has The rage of fire. He drives his enemies, E’en as a charioteer drives two swift steeds; For he is Foorbee Faerbenn son of Conor, From Conor’s own Moy Innish in the north.” “There came another band unto that plain,” Mac Roth went on. “An all-white, powerful hero Commanded it. His eyes and hair and beard, His raiment and accoutrements, were all Of the one whiteness. Only his great shield Was rimmed with yellow gold, and his long sword Was golden-hilted. His tall five-barbed spear, Held in his hand, showed high o’er all the hosts.” “Who may that be, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked, “Know’st thou perchance?” “Indeed, I know,” said Fergus. “Belovéd in our country of the north Is that white hero who draws near you there; Belovéd is that bear of blows and combats; Belovéd is that mountain-bear of actions; That is white Faeradah, the just and famous, From Nemud in Slieve Fooid in the north.” “Another band arrived upon that hill,” Mac Roth went on. “A big and stalwart man Walked in its front. Red, fiery-tinted hair Was on him; and huge, fiery-tinted eyes Blazed in his head. He wore a mottled bratt. His shield was green; his spear rose thin and blue; His troop around him was all gory-red; And he himself amidst them was all red, Bloody, and scarred with numerous hurts and wounds.” “Who was that man, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know him well,” said Fergus. “He, indeed, Is an illustrious, kinglike beast of combat. He is a raging bull, blocking a pass; He is the challenger of Inver Colpa, And is the fortress-gate to all north Erin; For he is Mend son of Salcolgan, and hails From the north sand-spits of the white-bright Boyne. ’Tis to avenge the prey which you have taken That he now comes against you,” Fergus said. “There came another band unto that plain,” Mac Roth went on. “In its forefront I saw A corpulent, thick-throated hero,—black His hair, and bushy, and his face all scarred And crimson. Brightly sparkled his green eyes Within his head. His spear had guarded eyelets. His black shield had a rim of hard findrinny. His bratt was of chill grey, clasped with pale gold. A layna of striped silk lay next his skin. His sword, which was adorned with carven bone And twisted work of golden threads, he wore Upon the outside of his raiment.” “Who Was that, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know,” Said Fergus. “He is as a spring-tide wave Drowning small gentle streams upon the shore. He is thick-necked Munn-rower son of Guerkind, From the Mourne Territory in the north.” “There came another band unto that plain,” Mac Roth said. “Verily they seemed to be In multitude, a huge and drowning flood; In ardour, a red flame; in strength, a cliff; In violence, a thunderstorm; in force, A winter-torrent. In their front I saw A raging, hideous warrior; and he Had great ears, a great nose, and apple-eyes, And rough, grey hair. He wore a striped grey bratt Pinned o’er his breast by a huge iron spike, Which reached from shoulder unto shoulder. Next His skin he had a rough and streaky layna. There was on him a big brown hill—his shield. At one side of his back he bore a sword Of seven pieces of well-tempered iron. He carried in his hand a great, grey spear, With thirty sewings through its eye-holes. Truly, Whoe’er he was, some folk amongst the hosts Already at that hill fell down with fear, At seeing that terrific warrior come With his own band about him.” “Who was that, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know, indeed,” Said Fergus. “He is as an ocean-flood Whelming the solid land—that man who comes There, with his band about him. He is Keltar, The mighty Keltar son of Oo-hider, From his own doon, Le-Glass in the east-north.” “There came another band unto that hill In Slane of Meath,” Mac Roth said. “It was bold And powerful, and it was rude and dreadful; And at its head I saw a big-mouthed man, The measure of his mouth being like the measure Of mouths of stallions. He was big of belly, Blind of one eye, and with a low, flat head, And had long arms. His hair was frizzed and brown. His bratt was black, with surface napped and teazled, And was secured by a round wheel of bronze. He wore a layna with distinctive markings, And a long sword, and a thick-studded shield.” “Who was that man, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know,” said Fergus. “He who there approaches Is a red-handed and a raging lion. He is one cruel thirst for blood and combat; For he is Aerrga Ecbael—Aerrga Horse-mouth,— From his own stead, Bree Aerrga, in the north.” “Another band arrived upon that hill,” Mac Roth continued. “And there could not be A man-at-arms more beautiful than he Who led that band. His figure was erect And tall and evenly proportioned, broad Of shoulder, narrow-hipped, white-skinned. His face Was broad above and narrowed towards the chin; And in the face his clear, blue, brilliant eyes Burned like two candles. His two lips were red And thin. His teeth gleamed like clear pearls. His hair Of a rich yellow-red fell thick and free. This warrior was arrayed in a full bratt Of crimson, fastened by a yō of gold. His layna was of kingly srōl, embroidered With bright, red gold. He bore a pure, white shield, Whereon were tortuous beasts of gold. His sword Was golden-hilted; and his spear was long, Grey-edged, and done with rivets of findrinny.” “Who is that warrior, Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know,” said Fergus, “and ye know well, too. That man is a half-battle to each one Who goes there. He himself is a battalion. He is your kin by marriage. He it is Who slept with your own daughter, Findabair; So that the Munster princes rose in wrath, And many men were slain, and she thereafter Died for pure shame and generous feeling towards them. For that is Ro-hee son of Faha-win, From his own doon, from Reedonn in the north.” “There came another band unto that hill,” Mac Roth continued. “In their style and mode They differed from all other bands which came. For some men wore red bratts and some wore blue. Some bratts were of pure white and some were green, And some were blay or yellow; all alike Were beautiful and streamed upon the wind. ’Midst of that troop I saw a little lad With ruddy, freckled face, and crimson bratt Fixed by a yō of gold. Of kingly srōl His little layna was, and it was done With broidery of gold. His small, white shield Bore figured beasts of gold, and had its rim And central boss of gold. A golden hilt His sword had; and a little, light, sharp spear Held in his hand, rose high above his head.” “Who may those be?” asked Al-yill. Fergus said: “I cannot recognize their style or mode, Nor know I such a royal child in Ulster; But there is one thing that I think. I think Those are the men of kingly Tara, coming Round about Erc, the son of Fedilmid The Freshly-blooming One, great Conor’s daughter. Erc is the son of Carpry Neea Faer, High-king of Tara, brother and ally To Al-yill there; yet think not that that child Comes, as a kinsman comes, to aid or help you. Without his father’s leave I think he comes To aid his mother’s father. And,” said Fergus, “If I am right in my surmise, a herd Trampling green crops that band will be to you. Loudly and wrathfully those mighty bulls Will roar, the while they guard the tender calf Of their own queenly heifer, in the fight Of Gawrig in the morning of to-morrow.” “There came another band unto that hill,” Mac Roth went on. “Controlling it, I saw Three purple-faced and anger-kindled men Of honourable rank. Each had thick hair Of pale blay-yellow; and their ample bratts Were all alike, and were secured by pins Of brightest gold. Bright gold embroidery Adorned their three neat laynas. Their three shields Were all alike. A golden-hilted sword Each wore upon his thigh; in his right hand Each grasped a grey, wide spear.” “Who were those, Fergus?” Asked Al-yill. “Three good chieftains of Moy Cova, Three heroes of the Road of Meed-lougher, Three lords of Cooley, three revered old men Of the east quarter of Slieve Foo-id,” said Fergus. “They are the three famed sons of Feeacna, The three good guardians of the bull, whose names Are Dawra and Ross and Im-ha,” Fergus said. “There came another band unto that hill In Slane of Meath,” Mac Roth said. “It was last Of all the bands; and it contained not fewer Than thirty hundred. They were bright, clean warriors, And ruddy-cheeked, with long, light-yellowish hair. Their countenances seemed to glow. Their eyes Were bright and kingly. Garments glossed and bright Were held by golden pins. Their blue-white spears Shined like pure glass, flashing in the clear air. Their shields were yellow, threatening dangerous blows. Their swords were golden-hilted. As these came, Clamour of grief broke from each man of them; Sad, moanful mourning had invaded them; Sorrowful there seemed each mean combatant; And each high, kingly chief was sorrowful. Their heads were bowed with sorrow and with pain. Bereaved seemed that bright host illustrious, Orphaned of him who should have governed them.” “Who are those, then?” said Al-yill unto Fergus. “Truly we know, then,” Fergus answered him. “Those are fierce lions, lions of a battle; Those are the cantred out of Moy Mweerhevna. And this it is which makes them bowed of head, And sorrowful and void of joy—their being Without their own young, native king amongst them, Without Cucullin, red of sword, commanding, Battle-victorious and battle-triumphing.” “There is enough of cause for them,” said Maev, “However scant of joy and sorrowful, And grieved at heart and downcast they may be. There is no ill we have not done to them. We were despoiling, burning, reaving them From Sowin unto Spring-tide. We have taken Their wives and tender sons and little ones, Their steeds and flocks of mares, their troops of kine, Their herds of every sort of grazing kine. And we have not alone burned to the grass Their strongly-timbered houses, wide and fair; But their high, fortified green mounds, whereon Those houses were, we have so levelled down, That all their glens and trenches are filled up After our track. And their unrivalled bull, Their wondrous Donn of Cooley, we have taken Away from them, to bring with us to Croohan.” “O Maev, thou hast therein no ground,” said Fergus, “For triumphing or boasting o’er those men. There is no ill that thou hast done to them, The which the leader of that able band Hath not avenged upon thee. For each grave, Each flagstone, and each high, sepulchral mound, Between the ford wherein Faerdeeah fell And the east shore of Erin, is the grave Or flagstone, or high, bare sepulchral mound Of some good hero and good combatant, After his slaying by the noble leader Of that same band we speak of. Well for those For whom these strive in battle! Woe for those Whom they contend against! They will be equal To half a battle for the men of Erin, While they contend for their own lord and king Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig, In battle in the morning of to-morrow.” Mac Roth went on: “I heard a grievous cry Somewhere to westward of the battle-hosts, Or else to eastward; it was not amidst them.” “What was that cry, then?” Al-yill asked of Fergus. “Truly, we know that,” Fergus answered him. “That was Cucullin, who, after his striving To rise and come and take his share in battle, Was being forcibly laid supine down Upon his sick man’s sod and sod of healing, Underneath hazel-boughs and hooks and ropes. The men of Ulster will not let him come, Owing to his sore hurts and harms and wounds; Because he is not fit for fight or combat After his fight and combat with Faerdeeah.” That thing was true which Fergus said to them. It was Cucullin, who had striven to rise, Being again with force laid supine down Upon his sick man’s sod and sod of healing, Underneath hazel-boughs and hooks and ropes. Hearing that thus he lay, bound to his bed, Two poison-tongued, searing she-satirists, Fehan and Collac, namely, now went forth From out the encampment of the men of Erin, Till they were falsely crying and bewailing Beside Cucullin, crying unto him Of Ulster routed, Conor slain, and Fergus Slain in return in the great field of battle. This was the night wherein the fierce More-reega Daughter of Ernmas came in the doleful dark, Between their two wide camps, inciting them The one against the other. She was heard To call these words, there, in the dark and gloom: “Ravens shall pick the throats of men to-morrow. Strife is promoted. Blue-mouthed bives shall scream, Hovering o’er breasts of prostrate men of Erin. Welcome, Ultonians! Memorable, feastful, Will be the slaughter of the flesh of men Upon these fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig In battle in the morning of to-morrow.” BOOK XV BOOK XV So, in a high hill-nook on Fedain Collna, ’Mid whitening bushes of wild, spiky thorn, Cucullin lay, held to his sick-man’s bed By hooks and ties and crooks. Through night’s dark shades He heard the red More-reega’s calls and cries, The blood-cries of the bitter-throated Bive. Then, in the first grey whiteness of day’s light, He called and said to his own charioteer, Namely, to Laeg the son of Ree-angowra: “O my friend Laeg,” he said, “through many a noon Thou hast been guarding and protecting me In my deep sleep in gaps and ways of danger; And thou hast been a prince of charioteers. It will be shameful to thee, truly, now, If aught shall happen on yon field to-day, On one side or the other, of the which Thou hast for me no knowledge.” “Aught,” said Laeg, “That I may know myself, O Cucucawn, Shall be made known to thee. And now,” said Laeg, “E’en in the first grey whiteness of day’s light, Out of the camp upon the west I see A herd of kine stray eastward. And I see A band of gillies speed upon the plain To hinder them and turn them; and I see Out of the camp upon the east a band Of beardless gillies speed upon that plain To take the kine and capture them.” “’Tis true,” Cucullin said. “That is a true beginning Of a great contest and a good contention. The herd of kine goes forth upon the plain; The gillies from the west and from the east Will clash together round the herd; and soon The kings and battle-warriors will be roused, And the great day of battle will begin.” That thing was true which thus Cucullin said. The little herd went forth upon the plain. The gillies from the east and from the west Clashed and encountered round the herd. “O Laeg,” Cucullin asked, “who is now giving battle?” “The young folk out of Ulster,” Laeg made answer. “In what way fight they there?” Cucullin asked. “’Tis manfully that there they fight,” said Laeg, “Contending for that herd.” Cucullin said: “Alas! that I have not my battle-strength To go to them and help their gillie-fray! Had I my strength, then clear and evident My breach would be before them there this hour!” “Comfort thyself, my Cucucawn,” said Laeg. “This is no shame unto thy battle-honour, No stain unto thy valour. Thou didst well Before this hour; thou wilt do well hereafter.” “Yet, O my friend, O Laeg,” Cucullin said, “Arouse the men of Ulster towards this battle. ’Tis indeed time for them to rise.” Laeg went To arouse the men of Ulster towards that battle. Amidst the tents, amidst the sleeping hosts, He spake his rhapsody of rousing words, Bidding them wake and rise. “Arise,” he said, “Arise with speed, deed-doing kings of Maha! Arise with strength of valorous hero-deeds. In all wide Erin there was never found One like Cucullin son of Sooaltim, Who hath defended you and fought for you, And is laid, now, low with red, bitter wounds. To save the captives and the kine of Cooley, To-day with strength of valorous deeds arise!” And all the men of Ulster in that camp, Together, in obedience to their kings, And in obedience to their chiefs and princes, Roused by these words of rising served to them Aloud by Laeg the son of Ree-angowra, Rose as one man; and in this wise they rose— Naked, save only for their sharp-edged weapons Held in their hands; and every man whose tent Opened to eastward, westward through his tent Tore his way out, he deeming it too long To circuit round the tent. And Laeg returned. Cucullin said: “How rise the men of Ulster Now toward the battle, O my friend, O Laeg?” “Full manfully,” said Laeg, “for thus they rise, Quite bare, quite naked, save for their sharp weapons Held in their hands,” said Laeg, “and he whose tent Opens to eastward, westward through his tent Tears his way forth, because it seems to him It were too long to make the circuit round it.” “O Laeg,” Cucullin answered, “they are men And kingly heroes who have risen there Round about Conor at dawn of day to-day! To say so is not overmuch!” Howbeit, This was the time when Conor son of Fahtna, On his own mound of camping, where he was, Said to wise-worded Shenca: “Go, O Shenca, Utter thy cry of knowledge and white wisdom Amidst the Ultonians. Let them not fare forth Into this fight before the strength and omen Of happy fortune shall have come to us,— Until the radiance of the sun shall rise Into the cloud-built rafters of the sky, And fill with light each knoll and slope and hill And hollow vale and glen throughout wide Erin.” And the hosts tarried at the voice of Shenca Speaking that cry of knowledge and white wisdom,— Until the radiance of the sun arose O’er the green-sided, chosen earth, and rose Into the cloud-built rafters of high heaven, And filled with light each glen throughout that Fifth. “Good, O my friend, O Shenca,” Conor said; “Arouse the Ultonians for the battle. Now It is the time for them to rise.” And Shenca Aroused them; and he spake these words of rising. “Arise!” he said, “deed-doing kings of Maha! Generous people! let the blood-red battle Be fought by you. Let shields be rent in twain. Let streams of blood flow beneath feet of men. Let edgéd weapons be ground down. Let earth Be angrily dug up. O men! O kings! Let grief and sorrow fill the hearts of queens. Let the Bive drink her crimson, bitter drink. Arise! If only for your Bull of Cooley, Arise! With strength of hero-deeds, arise!” And Laeg was not long watching in his place Ere he saw somewhat; for he saw the hosts Of the men of Ulster and the men of Erin Rise as one man. Above their heads they raised The brown-sharp forests of their shining spears; And they marched forth, each chief of them inciting And heartening his own battle-troop. Ere long, Upon the lands called Gawrig those two hosts Clashed into combat; and they fell to smiting, To hewing down, dismembering and maiming, To slaying and to slaughtering each the other, For a long while and a great space of time. This was the hour wherein Cucullin said To his own charioteer, even to Laeg (For a bright, lustrous cloud was o’er the sun): “Look for us, O my friend, O Laeg, how now Fight the Ultonians in that battle.” Laeg Replied: “’Tis manfully that there they fight. For were I now to mount my battle-chariot: Were Aen, the charioteer of Conall Carna, To mount his own; and were we, side by side, To drive our chariots from the one battle-wing E’en to the other, o’er the points of weapons,— Not hoof or wheel or hind-shaft would touch ground,— Owing to the true closeness, sureness, firmness, Wherewith their warrior-weapons are held firm In hands of Ulster warriors at this hour.” “’Tis grievous that I am not now of strength,” Cucullin said, “to be amidst them there! Were I of strength, then clear and evident My battle-breach would be, e’en like the breaches Which other warriors on that plain of battle Will make amidst their foemen’s hosts this day!” “Comfort thyself, O Cucucawn,” said Laeg. “This is no shame unto thy battle-honour, No stain unto thy valour. Thou didst well Before this hour. Thou wilt do well hereafter.” The hosts of Ulster and the hosts of Erin Held still to battle-striking and to smiting, To hewing down, dismembering and maiming, To slaying and to slaughtering each the other, For a long while and a great space of time. This was the hour when, with great urgency, The Helping Triads of the men of Erin Arrived to help the battle. But the share Which Maev, when they arrived, allowed to them, Was this alone, namely, to render sure The slaying of great Conor son of Fahtna, If upon him the battle should be broken; And, on the other part, to render sure The safe retreat of Al-yill and herself, If upon them there should be rout and flight. And of these Triads of the men of Erin There were three Abrat-rooas of Loch Ree: There were three Mahn-yas of the Land of Murrisc: There were three Lussens out of Looahar: There were three Fintans from the Plain of Femen: There were three each of very many names. Now was the hour when, with great urgency, Three battle-castles, three huge battle-wheels, Arrived from Ulster, having come to Ulster Over the many-billowed, white-foamed sea, From a land nearer to the sunrise. Each Of those huge battle-castles, those Bive’s-folds, Was cased with shining shields; and each one bristled With black, smooth, pine-long spears and blue-grey swords; And each one had four doors sprinkled with gems, So that from far they seemed like groups of stars; And each was filled with men having round shields; And each was drawn by full-maned, high, great steeds; And o’er the three there flew three flocks of birds, Whereof one flock was red and one was white And one was black like ravens. And three bives, Red-mouthed and black, circled around those towers Amidst the air, and prophesied and sang; And this is what they sang around those towers: “Swaths of the battle—swaths and sheaves of slain. Force of compelling. Terrible the deed. Towers of Slaughter. Ravens shall be full. Flood-red the ground. Men in the clay. Long swaths. Swaths of the battle. Swaths and sheaves of slain.” And Maev perceived those battle-castles come. She, in the first grey whiteness of day’s light, Had risen, and had ridden round her hosts Three times, that she might know whether each band Was fierce and terrible and well-arrayed And active and prepared for valiant deeds. And when the great, wide battle had begun, She, from her mound of watching and of battle, Had watched, and she had seen that neither side Had gained advantage o’er the other side. Then, when she saw those battle-castles come, She said within herself: “If now in Fergus The son of Roy there was that rage and ardour Which was within him, when, in former days, He broke great battle-rifts in distant lands— He, notwithstanding yon strange battle-towers, Would break this battle on the men of Ulster, So that they should be driven hence to-day With shame; and so that Conor here should fall.” And then it was that she addressed to Fergus Her rousing words; and she said these words there: “O royal warrior of the world, O Fergus, There was a time, of which men oft have spoken, When ’midst the heroes of the western world, There was not any greater than thyself In valour and in prowess and in battle. Thou, by thy prowess, brokest thirty battles O’er chiefs in distant lands, e’en to the City Of Moorn encircled by its wall of fire In the far distant isle of ice and snow. Thou, when thou wast with Esorb, King of Spain, Didst go, with hosts and multitudes of Spain, To Soda, King of Africa, and tookest A city of the warlike folk of Carthage By strength of war. There was none like to thee; And all men spoke of thy renown and glory. And then, because thou didst appear to him Too great to be in the one Fifth with him, Conor the son of Fahtna Fahee drove thee Forth from thy place, with contumely and shame. Much he deceived thee and insulted thee. He slew the brightest Candles of the Gael While they were underneath thy guard and honour. There is no theme for jest and mockery In Avvin and in Ulster and in Erin, Save this—thy cringing to the men of Ulster After they so have scorned and driven thee. Tell me, O royal warrior of the world, Whither have gone that great renown and power And strength of hero-deeds which once were thine— So that men now account thee not at all When there is need of valour and achievements And hero-power?” These were Maev’s words to Fergus. And with great joy she saw his wrath of rage Come to his face, until it made his face Red like pure, crimson flame. “Truly,” said Fergus, “By all the gods by whom my people swear I swear that if I had my sword to-day, Skull-rooves of men should fly from cheeks of men; Middles of men should break from thighs of men; Fore-arms of men should part from arms of men; And throats of men should fall with throats of men; And fists of men should fall with fists of men; And heads of men should fall with ears of shields; Until they should be even as great in number As hailstones on a plain ’twixt two dry greens, Round which a high-king’s kingly steeds might race On a fresh morn in spring. To east and west, Through me, with heads and limbs of the Ultonians, If I obtain my sword!” This was the time When Al-yill said unto his charioteer, Namely, unto Faer-loga: “Let that sword Which destroys skin come to me now, O gillie; And I aver that if ’tis worse with thee To-day in bloom and tendance than it was Upon that day on which thou tookest it In Cooley,—then, although the hosts of Erin And Alba should attempt to save thee from me, They should not save thee.” And Faer-loga went, And brought with him the sword beneath its glory Of gentle tendance, and beneath its flaming Of flame-like radiance. And the sword was given Into the hand of Al-yill, and by Al-yill Was straightway placed into the hand of Fergus. And Fergus made great joy before his sword. “My love to thee!” he said, “O Caladcolg! O sword of Leddy!—And on whom,” said Fergus, “Shall it now play?” “On the great hosts,” said Maev, “Around thee on the field on every side. And let not anyone obtain from thee Forgiveness or protection there to-day, Unless he be some true friend who obtains it.” Fergus then took his weapons, and he went Forth to the battle; and the first great deed Which he performed there was to clear a gap Of a hundred with that sword, the Caladcolg, In his two hands. And Al-yill took his weapons; Maev took her weapons; and they each fared forth Into the battle, into that great battle Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig— Into the last great battle of the Táin. And Fergus played upon the Ulster hosts The singing of his sword, so that the battle Was three times routed toward the north before him; Until those battle-castles from a land Nigh to the sunrise, with their dreadful Coo-al Of spears and swords, wheeled toward the men of Erin, And three times forced and drove them backward. Now, Conor the son of Fahtna heard that thing In his own place of battle where he was, Namely, that thus the battle had been routed Against him three times toward the north. ’Twas then That Conor said to his own warrior-household, The inward heart of the Creev Roe in Avvin: “Keep ye this place a little, O ye men,” He said to them, “this place in which I am, That I myself may go to learn by whom The battle has been three times driven and routed So, toward the north, against us.” And ’twas then That his own household answered him with fervour And dearness. “We will keep this place,” they said. “The heaven is above us and the earth Is underneath us and the blue-rimmed sea Is round us in a circuit. And unless The firmament with all its showers of stars Shall fall upon the firm face of the earth,— Unless the many-furrowed, blue-rimmed sea Shall veil the thick-haired forehead of the world,— Unless the earth shall break and yawn beneath us,— We will not yield a thumb’s breadth in retreat Backward, till thou shalt come to us again, Or till we shall be slain.” Then Conor went Forth to that place, where, as he had been told, The battle had been three times driven and routed Against him toward the north. And it was there— Even amid the hard-fought, crowded battle— That a shield struck a shield. The shield of Fergus Struck the Ō-hawn´, the many-victoried, Great shield of Conor, which had four peaked ears Of gold, and four ridged borders of red gold. And Fergus struck his three Bive’s slaughter-blows Against the shield of Conor; and thereat The great Ō-hawn´, the shield on Conor, moaned; And when it moaned, the three surge-waves of Erin, The Wave of Rury and the Wave of Cleena And the far northern Wave of Thoo-ig Inver, Moaned through the air athwart the lands of Erin In answer to the shield. And all the shields Amidst the men of Ulster in that hour, Upon their shoulders or within their chariots, Moaned through the air across the plain of battle In answer to the shield of Conor. Yet, However great the valour and the power Wherewith that warrior, Fergus, struck the shield On Conor,—yet so great the battle-strength And hero-power were wherewith the King Maintained the shield against him—that the ear Of the Ō-hawn´ ne’er touched the king’s own ear. “Alas! O men,” said Fergus, “who is he That can thus hold his shield against me here, On this my day of vengeance and of battle— Here where the Five Great Fifths of Erin meet Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig— Here in the last great battle of the Táin?” “Leave thou this place, O Fergus,” Conor said. “He who is here is younger and more perfect Than thou art; and his mother and his father Were better born than thine. He who is here Is he who drove thee from thy patrimony And from thy land and thine inheritance. It is the man who put thee in the dwelling Of hares and foxes and wild, forest deer. It is the man who left thee not so much As thine own stride of all thy fields and lands. It is the man who put thee to be kept And to be paid and ordered by a woman. It is the man who violated thee Concerning the three Candles of the Gael, Slaying beneath thy very word and safeguard Those three unfaithful, valorous sons of Usna, Who had deprived him of his dearest jewel. It is the man who will now beat thee back In presence of these mighty hosts and throngs— Conor the son of Fahtna Fahee son Of Ross the Red-haired son of Rury More— High-king of Ulster and distinguished son Of a High-king of all the realms of Erin.” And Fergus heard these words which Conor said. Then ’midst his wrath of rage and battle-anger And strength of ire, he held in memory Those words he once had said in Avvin Maha, Namely, that e’en if Conor should betray him, And violate his honour and his safeguard (A thing which he was sure would ne’er be done), He would not seek the king’s own blood or flesh; Though there was not another man in Ulster Who should insult his honour and his safeguard And from his hands should not obtain red death. This was the promise which he once had given. Yet this, indeed, is truth and not a lie, Namely, that e’en had he ne’er given that promise, It would have seemed an evil thing to Fergus To seek to slay that king whom he had loved In happy days in smooth-bright Avvin Maha—To slay the High-king of his own dear land, The land of Ulster. Then he turned his anger Away from Conor; and he turned his anger Against the Ulster hosts on every side Throughout the battle. He hurled back his sword, The Caladcolg, till its point touched the ground Behind him, that he so might strike with it Its three enchanted blows of doom and judgment Upon the Ulster hosts on every side, That so the dead amidst those hosts of Ulster Might number more e’en than their quick should number; (Because that sword from out the Shee was thus: When a true warrior’s hands would strike with it Its three enchanted blows of doom and judgment, It would put on the curve and length and sheen Of a rainbow in the air). That now was seen By Conor’s exiled son, Cormac Conlingish, The head of the Black Exile; and he made A rush as of the quick spring-wind, approaching Fergus; and he closed his forearms round him. “Unfriendly, and not friendly, were that deed! Un-native, and not native, were that deed! Of out-lands, not of Ulster, were that deed! My master, Fergus!” Cormac said to him; “And, O my tutor and my master, Fergus, Let not the men of Ulster now be slain By thy three blows of doom. Rather, O Fergus, Think of the honour of thy native land, Think of the honour of the men of Ulster, E’en in thy day of vengeance and of battle.” “Leave me! Away from me! O son,” said Fergus; “Because I shall not live unless I strike My three enchanted blows of doom and judgment Upon the hosts of Ulster here to-day, So that the dead amidst the hosts of Ulster May number more e’en than their quick shall number.” “Bend thy hand sideways, O my master, Fergus,” Cormac Conlingish said, “and cut the hills Which are beside this field and plain of battle; And it will ease thy warrior-wrath of rage.” Fergus delayed a moment; then he said: “Let Conor son of Fahtna then return To his own place of battle where he was.” And Cormac said to Conor: “Go, my father, To thine own place of battle where thou wast; Because this man will not put forth his wrath Now on the men of Ulster in this place.” And Conor turned and went to his own place, Where he had been. And Fergus bent his hand Sideways; and o’er the heads of the great hosts With the curved sword from out the Shee he struck His three enchanted blows of doom and judgment Upon the hills, which were beside the plain; And struck their summits from the three low hills—That those three Maels of Meath might be for men A sign of shame and of reproach to Ulster Even until the ending of all time. And it was thus that Fergus son of Roy And Conor son of Fahtna separated Upon this Táin. And so the wrath of Fergus Was one part suaged; but still he made his path A path of reddening; and his warrior-slaughters Were still unscanty. On high Fedain Collna, Upon his sick-man’s bed, while hearkening To the far noise and clamour of that battle, Cucullin heard the great Ō-hawn´ of Conor Moan through the air, when it was struck by Fergus The son of Roy. “Good, O my friend, O Laeg,” Cucullin said. “What man has now this daring— The daring thus to smite the great Ō-hawn´ Of my dear guardian, Conor King of Ulster, While I am yet alive?” Laeg said to him: “It is the best of warriors and of men Who smites it; he flings blood—increase of slaughter. It is the man, Fergus the son of Roy. His chariot-sword from out the Shee was hidden, And now is with him once again. The steeds Of Conor now have come unto the battle.” “Loosen these hazel-bands, O gillie, swiftly,” Cucullin said. “Blood shall be spent by men; Swords shall sing music.” Then Laeg loosened them, Albeit unwillingly. Cucullin leapt Free from his bands, so that the hazel-bands Went to Moy Thooaga amidst of Connaught; And all his hooks flew to far Corcumroe, Amidst the barren places in the west; And the dry wisps and twists of moss and grass, Which were within his wounds, rose through the air, And through the firmament, even as far As a lark flies on a bright day in summer, Whereon there is no wind. His many sores, And many hurts and gashes and deep wounds, Seized him afresh thereat, so that each groove And furrow of the earth was filled with gore And with his streaming blood. None of his arms, None of his weapons, had been left to him Beside his sick man’s bed. Only his chariot He found beside him there. He took the chariot; And went unto the plain; and with the chariot He struck and felled and hewed the men of Erin, Until he reached the place wherein was Fergus The son of Roy. And then he spake to Fergus. “Come hitherward,” he said, “my master, Fergus!” But Fergus answered not, because he heard not. Cucullin spake and said those words again. “Come hitherward,” he said, “my master, Fergus! Or, if thou comest not, I then will grind thee E’en as a millstone grinds fresh barley-malt. Yea, I will cleave thee as a wood-axe cleaves An oak of the forest: I will bind thee hard, E’en as the woodbine binds great forest-trees: I will attack thee as the hawk attacks Small, helpless fledgelings: I will cast thee down As fishes are cast down upon the sand: Unless thou comest hitherward, O Fergus!” “Is it to me that these Bive’s words are spoken?” Said Fergus; “and who dares to speak these words On this my day of vengeance and of battle, Here where the Five Great Fifths of Erin meet Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig— Here in this last great battle of the Táin?” Cucullin said: “It is thy foster-son, The son of Dectora, of Conor’s sister— The son who is beloved by all in Ulster, And who hath fought for all and fended all. And thou didst promise, O my guardian, Fergus, At thine own turn of combat on this Táin, That when thou shouldst behold me bleeding, faint, And filled with hurts and filled with dangerous wounds, In this last battle of the Táin, thou truly Wouldst flee before me on this day of battle; For I myself fled before thee, O Fergus, Then, at thy turn of combat on the Táin.” And Fergus looked and saw his foster-son, The Hound of Ulster, covered with rough gore, Bleeding and pierced and filled with dangerous wounds; And he remembered all that he had said Beside that ford on grass-green Moy Mweerhevna At his own turn of combat on the Táin. And then it was, indeed, that Fergus fled. With his own war-troop—with the Ulster Exiles, Who had departed with him out of Ulster Full seven years before—he left the battle. Toward Connaught, toward the Shannon, toward the west, He strode his three all-powerful hero-strides; And he broke forth, over the western hill, Out of the battle. And the seven kings From Munster, which had come upon that hosting, When they perceived that Fergus left the battle, Broke likewise forth, over the western hill, Leaving the battle; and with each of them Was his own cantred. And the hosts of Connaught Were left alone, maintaining the great battle Against the Ulster hosts before them there. Those who were left maintaining it were these:— Maev with her cantred: Al-yill with his cantred: The seven Mahn-yas and the Sons of Mahga, Each with his cantred. In that hour of day When Fergus and the seven kings from Munster Abandoned Maev, leaving their share of battle, And this was told to her, there came, as ’twere, Before her eyes a dizzy, dim, blind mist, Blinding her eyes and eye-sight, so that men And trees appeared the same to her. Howbeit, From midday till day’s waning she maintained The battle strongly. It was at midday That first Cucullin came into the battle From Fedain Collna. When the golden sun Sank ’mid the tresses of the western woods, The last of all the battle-troops of Connaught Was driven and routed o’er the western hill, Out toward the west. And of his battle-chariot There remained then, grasped in Cucullin’s hands, Only a handful of the curving ribs Pertaining to the body, and a handful Of spokes from the two wheels; for with his chariot He had been slaying, hewing, and destroying The men of Erin throughout all that time. This was the hour when Maev took up her shield, And put her shield of guarding and protection Behind the hosts guarding their sad retreat. This was the hour when she sent off the bull, The Donn of Cooley, swiftly to Rath Croohan By a long circuit, having fifty heifers And eight of her own messengers around him,— So that, at ending of that Táin and hosting, Whoever might arrive or not arrive In safety at Rath Croohan on Moy Wee, The Donn of mountainous Cooley should arrive, Even as she had promised and had sworn. Then Maev herself came soon unto the place Where Fergus was, nigh the great river-ford. And on that queen at falling of that hour There was great weakness, faintness, weariness, After the long, hard, ever-toilsome battle; And there was anguish, bitterness, dejection, After that great abandonment by Fergus, And all that hard defeat and overthrow. She said to Fergus then: “O Fergus, put Thy shield of guarding and of sure protection Across their track, guarding the men of Erin, That I may rest a little.” Fergus said: “’Tis an ill hour to rest in.” “Yet,” said Maev, “I shall not live unless I rest a little.” Then Fergus put his shield of sure protection Across their track, guarding the men of Erin; And so Maev rested. E’en as she was resting ’Mid some young trees, Cucullin came on her. He slew her not. He deemed it were unworthy, Dishonourable, so to slay her. Then Maev lifted up her eyes and saw Cucullin Before her there. She said: “To-day, Cucullin, I ask a boon of thee.” “What boon?” he said. “Take thou these hosts,” said Maev, “beneath thy honour And sure protection, that they so may reach Across the ford to westward.” Of all men Of Erin who were living in his time, Cucullin was the best for giving gifts And generous bestowing; and thereafter, In after time, there would be only two Who should be equal to him, namely these— Neev Columkillé of the race of Niall, And Goory son of Colman in the west. And, because thus he was the best in Erin For giving gifts, he said to Maev: “O Maev, I give that boon thou askest.” Then Maev rose (Though that was hard for her); Cucullin went Around the men of Erin, and he put His shield of guarding and of sure protection Across one side, guarding the men of Erin. The Helping Triads of the men of Erin Came to the other side; and Maev herself Returned to her own place and firmly put Her shield of guarding and of sure protection Behind their central troops; and, in that way, They which were left of all those hosts of Erin Passed the great ford and came once more to Connaught. Before he left the Connaught river-shore, His famous sword was brought unto Cucullin, His wonder-sword, the wondrous Croo´-adeen; And in the dusk above the darkening ford It beamed like a king’s candle (and in days To come that sword should come to Art’s son Cormac, Greatest of monarchs of all Erin). Then, With that straight sword, the wondrous Croo´-adeen, Cucullin struck its three straight wonder-blows; And struck their summits from the three low hills Beside the ford, that those three Maels of Connaught Beside the Connaught river-shore, for men, Might answer the three Maels of Meath. And Fergus Was watching all those hosts pass from the ford Westward toward Croohan and Moy Wee of Connaught; And through his heart there was great bitterness. He knew that now old age would come on him Without his doing hero-deeds, or winning Great battles like the battles he had won. For he—thus severed from his native land And from the folk and heroes whom he loved Fervently, passionately, zealously— Was (like a spear-head parted from its shaft) Deedless, of no avail. And he was sure That he would die in exile and be buried In exile, in a strange land not his own. ’Twas then he turned to Maev, “Truly,” said he (And he spake roughly, darkly, bitterly), “Truly,” he said, “the outcome of this day Is fit and natural for all these hosts, Which have been led and marshalled by a woman. To-day these hosts have been deprived and robbed. And, e’en as when a mare precedes her foals Into a land unknown, without a head Of counsel and of guidance going before her, And her young foals are robbed and reft from her, So stands it with these driven hosts to-day.” And Maev said naught to all those words of Fergus; For there was on her too much grief and woe And pain and dole and sadness, after all That treachery and that abandonment By Fergus son of Roy, whom she had welcomed, And had maintained and cherished royally; And there was anguish, grief, and hard dejection, After that great defeat and overthrow. Cucullin left the Shannon river-shore, And fared to eastward; and he reached that place Where Conor was, with all the chiefs of Ulster, Awaiting him. And faintness, weakness, trembling, Came on him there; because his rage and ardour Had gone from him, and now his many sores And many hurts and gashes and deep wounds Pained freshly. Then the gillies and the striplings From Avvin Maha, seeing thus their friend And dear companion filled with gory wounds And very faint, raised their great cry of woe, And their great outcry and their lamentation, Till even the stones and gravel of the earth Answered their grievous clamour. And men laid him On a fresh bed of comfort and of healing. And Conor, the great king, came to that bed, And bent above him; and he spake above him His very earnest kingly words of pity And sad deploring and strong praise and love. “O Hound,” he said, “O Battle-hound of Cooley, O King of Heroes of our own Creev Roe, For Ulster thou hast borne much grief and harm; And men in Ulster will remember thee, And all which thou hast wrought for war-like Ulster, Long as pure waves shall break on Ulster shores. Drink now, and sleep; and bide in rest and healing.” So nigh the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig The hosts of Ulster made their camp that night. On Conor son of Fahtna Fahee there, In his own tent, in his own place of camping, There was depression and dark gloom that night; And he was heavy-hearted. For, indeed, Though he that day had broken that great battle Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig Against the hosts of Connaught, ne’ertheless, That did not change this fact, namely, that truly Maev scarce had left a stead in all his Fifth, E’en from the Boyne and fair Moy Bray to far Dunseverick beside the northern sea, Without destroying it and spoiling it And leaving it a burned and blackened ruin; And that great bull, the gold-horned Donn of Cooley, She had made fast and borne with her to Croohan. And this was true besides: to him a battle In which no king had fallen did not seem To be indeed a battle. So on Conor There was deep gloom and heavy woe that night. After that time Cucullin lay at healing In Avvin Maha for a lengthened while; But when his wounds were healed, he donned once more His festal war-array, and travelled south To rich Loolohta Lōha nigh the sea, To take that maiden, who, ’midst other maidens, Was as a sun ’midst pale, faint stars. He did All that she had foretold that he would do Ere he could reach her. Then he wedded her. And they two—Emer daughter of Forgall Mona, And many-victoried Cucullin—dwelt In love throughout the space of twice five years; Wherein Cucullin wrought great deeds, until His foemen for the last time came against him And he died young in years—even as Cathbad, Cathbad, the lord of knowledge and wise druid, Speaking sad truth of knowledge, had foretold. Before Maev let the men of Erin part And separate to reach their native homes, She gathered them around herself in Croohan, That they might see that combat of the bulls, And the contention which should finally Decide that contest and that strife and struggle, Which had been fought through many lives and shapes. When the high, gold-horned Donn of Cooley saw That beautiful, all unknown land, which spread Before him there in greenness and in beauty— Namely, Moy Wee of Connaught—he raised up His three loud-speaking, voiceful bellowings; And the Find-benna heard him. Now no bull Or male wild beast ’twixt the Four Fords of Wee— The Ford of Moga and the Ford of Bercna, The Ford of Shlissen and the Ford of Coltna— Was wont to raise more than a little murmur, Or a soft, timorous moaning, through his fear Of that Find-benna. And the red Find-benna, Hearing those speaking, voiceful bellowings, Raised up his head and shook his three white manes, Which were like snow upon a noble mountain, And he came vehemently on toward Croohan To meet the Donn of Cooley. Of those bulls, Each saw the other soon. Then both, in frenzy, Raging, infuriated, frantic, maddened, Pawed up the ground and dug the earth between them, And flung the earth back o’er their shoulder-bones. And their eyes glared red-hot within their heads, Like fruits or berries of pure, sparkling fire: Their cheeks and nostrils swelled and bulged, as bulge A smith’s huge bellows in a forge. And each Against the other dealt his sounding blow Of doom and judgment; and each one began To gore, to pierce, and to destroy the other. This is the time wherein the red Find-benna Of bright Moy Wee caused the dark Donn of Cooley To swerve from his straight way and road and journey; And in his side he thrust a curved, white horn; And he was overcoming him. But Cormac The son of Conor saw that thing. He took A mighty spear-shaft which filled up his grasp; And, with this spear-shaft, to the Donn of Cooley He gave three long stroke-blows from ear to tail. “This jewel is to us no lasting jewel,” Said Cormac, “for there is not force in him To match a calf of his own age.” That bull, The Donn of Cooley, heard these railing words; For he had man-like understanding. Then He turned again against the great Find-benna; And after that they, upon either side, Were piercing and destroying each the other For a long while and a great space of time. And night descended on the men of Erin; And after darkening night had so descended, For all the men of Erin there was nothing But to be listening to the storm and roaring Of the great bulls throughout the land that night. That night the two bulls ranged through Erin all; So that there is not any place in Erin Named Clo-na-Darriv, Rath-na-Darriv, Drum-na-Darriv, Barna-na-Darriv, Moy-na-Darriv, Loch-na-Darriv, But it was named from those two bulls that night. At very early dawn upon the morrow The men were not long watching nigh Rath Croohan, Ere they perceived the Donn of Cooley come From out the west; and their own great Find-benna Was borne in mangled fragments and dead pieces On his high, peakéd horns. The men arose; And in the dusky dawn they were not sure Which of the bulls he was. But Fergus said: “O men,” he said, “if ’tis your own Find-benna, Whom ye discern approaching, let him be; And if it is the Donn of mountainous Cooley, Leave him his trophy; for I say to you, Unless ye leave it, that which has been done Because of these two bulls, indeed is little To that which shall be done to you this day.” The Donn of Cooley came. He raised on high His three loud, voiceful roars, vaunting his trophy. He turned his right toward Croohan; and he turned His face to go to his own far, dear land. He reached the margin of that Shannon-ford Which the great hosts had crossed. He stooped to drink, And there he left a loin of the Find-benna, Whence is “Athlone,” “Ford of the Loin.” He went Still eastward; and he came to high Ardcullin, And to the pillar-stone, and gazed abroad O’er Ulster there before him. Then he lifted His head with ardour, strength, and vehemence, And shook the fragments of the slain Find-benna Abroad o’er Erin; so that many places Are named from those divided parts and fragments Of the Find-benna. Then he reached Slieve Bray; And thence he saw against the north-east sky The pure-formed peaks of Cooley; and at seeing The peaks of his own native land and country There came on him a powerful mind and spirit; And he strove forward. At the hour of eve The women and young lads and little folk Within the beautiful, high-mountained cantred Of Cooley of blossomful, sweet-watered glens, Were wailing for their Donn of Cooley. Then They saw him, where he came approaching them. But there was on him blindness and great ire, Because of his sore wounds. He, storming on, Stormed up amongst them; and full many there, Of women and young lads and little folk, Fell on that hill-slope of high Cooley, slain By their own Donn of Cooley. He lay down Against the hill, and his great heart broke there, And sent a stream of blood down all the slope; And thus, when all this war and Táin had ended, In his own land, ’midst his own hills, he died. [Illustration: “CUCULLIN GUARDS THE RETREAT OF THE MEN OF ERIN.”] THE WRITING OF THE TÁIN THE WRITING OF THE TÁIN So to those saints that ancient warrior, Fergus, Having been called from out his low, sad grave, Had taught this history, this Táin Bo Cooley, With its beginning and its deeds and end, E’en as it had been acted in old days Before the holy Faith had come to Erin. And when he so had taught them all this tale, He went from them; and the blind mist and fog, Which had been round them, went; and they saw there Only the flag-stone in that lonely place, And the slow stream beside it. Then each saint Left with his friends his tender, faithful blessing; And each fared forth to his own place in Erin, To his own cell, or church, or field, or hill. But agéd Shen´-cawn went with holy Kieran To Kieran’s holy field; and, as they went, They crossed Moy Wee, and passed old, high Rath Croohan, And passed the Place of Graves, where many mounds Were green above high-kings and queens of Erin, And above many kings and queens and princes And noble chiefs of Connaught. There were buried Al-yill and Maev—within their deep, green mound, Enclosed from Gael and stranger. There were buried In turfy mounds the seven sons of Mahga, Brethren of Al-yill’s mother. There were buried The seven Mahn-yas, sons of Maev and Al-yill, In one mound, side by side. And there was buried Dawthy, the last renowned high-king who reigned Ere the Faith came to Erin: he, at warfare In far-off Latin lands, had burned the home Of a most holy hermit, and had died, Slain by God’s lightning on the Alps; whereon Awley, his son, had brought him o’er far seas, For burial in Rath Croohan. But those two, Shen´-cawn and Kieran, left that heathen field, And fared south-eastward; and at eve they came To Kieran’s Green, to holy Clonmacnoise, To Clonmacnoise upon a flowery slope Amid a rushry by the pure, bright Shannon, Where all was blest and still. And in that place In after-time a sacred School and City Should rise—Neev Kieran’s City—and should grow Like a tall tree, whence rule and truth and wisdom Should spread through half the land. And in that place, Even in dew-bright, red-rosed Clonmacnoise, Under rich, carven flags there should be buried In after-time great kings and lords and chiefs, And many prayerful abbots and wise bishops, And many poets, who in after-days Should die in faith. Yea, and Neev Columkillé Said that, because of God’s great love for Kieran— Sweet helper of the oft-times erring Gael— It was at Clonmacnoise that the white souls Of Erin should be gathered and assemble Around Neev Patrick, when the Judgment-horn Should blow from high Croagh Patrick o’er the lands And hills and vales and sacred greens of Erin. But at that time, when agéd Shen´-cawn came To that blest place, there were but nine small cells Of wattled boughs, and one small oaken church; And in that place there was not yet one grave. Then, when they so had reached that fair, blest place, Neev Kieran took the wonder-working hide Of his dun cow, who had fared forth with him, Taking her calf, when he himself had fared— He being young—to high renowned Clonard, To learn beneath Neev Findian; and that cow, While he was there learning pure truth and wisdom, Had stayed with him, and always faithfully Sustained him with her milk. He took that hide, Which he had ever cherished tenderly; And of that hide he made a noble book; And in that book he wrote the Táin Bo Cooley, With its beginning and its deeds and end, E’en as it had been acted in old days Before the holy Faith had reached their land; That this famed history, this Táin Bo Cooley, Which had been taught them by that warrior, Fergus, Who had been sent from out his lonely grave, Might so be known in after-days in Erin. APPENDICES APPENDIX A IRISH TERMS USED IN THE VERSE =Aely= [_Éli_, L.U. 78ᵃ, margin]. A spell or incantation. =An-dord´= [_Andord_, L.L. 261ᵃ31]. Apparently a kind of tenor singing. _Dord_ means the bass in music. _An_ here is probably a negative, not an intensive, prefix; for O’Curry (M. & C. iii. 379) says that the short strings of the harp were called _andord_, “not bass.” =Bălt´-thănă= [_Beltene_. Mod. I. _Bealtaine_]. The first of May. This was one of the chief points of division in the year. See Corm., _Belltaine_. =Ban´-a-nah= [_Bânanach_]. A kind of airy spirit. =Barnbrogues= [_Bernbróic_]. Probably a long, close-fitting covering for the legs, breeches and hose combined. See Zimmer, K.S. 6, pp. 81-88. =Bive= [_Badb_]. The raven, hooded-crow, carrion-crow, or other rapacious bird. Often used as a name for the More-reega, the goddess of war, who was wont to appear in the form of a carrion-bird. =Boc´-a-nah= [_Bócanach_]. A kind of airy spirit. =Boo´-an-bac= [_Buanbach_, _buanfach_]. A game, probably of the nature of chess or draughts. See Zimmer, K.S. 6, p. 78. =Baw´-ee Brashee= [_Bái brassi_]. One of Cucullin’s feats. _Brasse_ means “quickness,” “readiness” (see Fél. Index). But it seems impossible to determine the nature of the feat. =Bran´-duv= [_Brandub_; Mod. Ir. _brannamh_]. Chess. Dr. Joyce (Soc. Hist. ii. 480, 1) says that nothing has been discovered to show the exact nature of this game. But in Keating’s _Trí Bior-ghaoithe an Bháis_ (“Three Shafts of Death”), p. 25, there is a passage in which the fate of men is compared to the fate of the troop in a game of _brandubh_. It is pointed out that just as in the game of _brandubh_, so long as the game is being played, each man has his own rank, the King being in the most honoured place on the board, and the Queen in the second place, and so on,—similarly in the _brandubh_ of life each man has his own place. And just as, when the game is over, the men of the _brandubh_ are poured into the bag all mingled together without any respect to their rank,—similarly, when Death comes to men he pays no more honour to one than to another. This passage shows that in Keating’s time, at all events, _brandubh_ meant “chess,” not “backgammon” or “draughts.” =Bratt= [_Bratt_]. An outer covering, cloak, or mantle. =Bressla More= [_Breslech mór_]. The great breaking or slaughter. The name _Breslech mór_ seems afterwards to have been given to the spot where the slaughter took place. See L.L. 75ᵇ49. =Brewy= [_Bríuga_]. “A lord of land,” as (following Dr. Kuno Meyer) I render it in Book vii; a wealthy farmer; a hospitaller. =Broo= [_Brúgh_]. A mansion; a fairy palace. “The Broo of Angus Ōg” was probably the great tumulus of New Grange on the Boyne. Angus Ōg was the son of the great Dagda and of Boand (“Boyne”), whose name was given to the river. See _Aislinge Oengusso_, Rev. Celt. iii. 344. =Călăd-colg= [_Calad colg_]. The name of the sword of Fergus. Apparently from _calad_, “hard,” and _colg_, “a straight sword,” “a dagger.” But from its being compared to a rainbow, I judge that the _Calad colg_ was curved, and I have treated it so. It is sometimes called the _calad bolg_. =The two Cann-bracks´= [_na da chend bricc_]. The two dappled-heads: Conor’s two steeds. =Cantred= [_Tricha cét_]. Following the usual custom, I render the Irish term, _tricha cét_, “thirty hundred,” by the Welsh word “cantred.” A _tricha cét_ (defined in the Laws, vol. v, 50, 3, as “one _tuath_”) was a territory containing thirty ballys or townlands. It corresponded roughly to the modern barony. When _tricha cét_ is used to denote a division in an army, it seems uncertain whether it means literally 3000 men, or simply the complement of fighting men which a cantred of land was able to furnish forth. =Cass-awn´= [_Cassán_]. A brooch or pin. =Cathbarr= [_Cath barr_]. A helmet, a head-piece. =Cloth-nell´= [_Cloth nell_, L.L. 261ᵃ29]. I am not sure whether I have been right in interpreting this as the name of the song. It may be merely a _cheville_, a stop-gap, such as often occur in Irish poetry. In any case, I do not understand what it means. =Cōla= [_Coblach_, L.L. 261ᵃ30]. Apparently the voice or a mode of singing between bass (_dord_) and tenor (_andord_). O’Curry (M. & C. iii. 252, 379) says that the middle strings of the harp were called the _cobhlaighe_. =Con´-gan-ess= [_Congan-chness_]. Horn-skin; the name of Faerdeeah’s armour. It may have been a close-fitting dress of leather, sewn all over with little plates of horn. =Cooal= [_Cual_, L.L. 102ᵃ37]. The word seems to refer to the bristling mass of swords and spears with which each of these battle-castles was surrounded. See the description of them: Windisch, Táin, pp. 809-821. Compare L.L. 115ᵇ19, where cual gai seems to mean a _cheval-de-frise_ of spears. =Crann-dord´= [_Crandord_]. The musical lowing made by the Donn of Cooley. _Crann_ means “a tune,” “a melody.” _Dord_ means “a humming,” also “the bass in music.” O’Brien has _crann dordáin_, “a kind of music made by putting the hand to the mouth.” =Crann-towl´= [_crantaball_]. A sling-staff, or perhaps a kind of crossbow, for shooting stones. =Creev Roe= [_Cráebrúad_]. “The Red Branch”: the name of Conor’s great banqueting-house at Avvin Maha. =Croo´-a-deen= [_Cruadín_]. The name of Cucullin’s sword; formed from _cruaidh_, “hard.” _Cruaidh_ is the modern word for “steel.” =Crooan= [_Cruan_]. Probably a kind of red enamel. Very beautiful examples of early Irish enamel-work may be seen in the collection of the R.I.A. in Dublin. =Curragh= [_Currach_]. A coracle: a light boat made of a wooden framework, which in ancient times used to be covered with hides, and in modern times is covered with tarred canvas. =Dael= [_Dáel_]. Some kind of black chafer or beetle. =Dael-clish= [_Deil chliss_; _deil chniss_]. Of somewhat uncertain meaning. In the passage in Book xi., where it occurs (see L.L. 77ᵇ5; L.U. 79ᵇ9), the context seems to suggest that it was a dart greater and more important than the eight little darts; but it may have been some kind of bow or sling for shooting the little darts. In Book v. I have rendered the word vaguely, “dael-feat”; it may mean a sling-staff with which the ball was to be cast. _Del_ or _deil_ meant “a rod,” or “switch.” =Dael-feat.= See =Dael-clish=. =Doon= [_Dún_]. A fortress; a fortified residence. =The Enga= [_an Engach_]. The name of Conall Carna’s ship, as given in the _Foghlaimh Chonchulainn_. =Eric= [_Eric_]. “A fine or penalty exacted from an offender, according to the assessment of established custom, or the determination of the Brehons.” Laws vi., p. 311. =The Eura= [_An Iubrach_, _in Ibhrach_]. The name of the boat belonging to Fergus. It seems to be connected with ibar (Mod. Ir., _iubhar_), “a yew-tree.” =Faen-feat= [_Foenchless_]. One of Cucullin’s feats. From _foen_, “supine,” “flat.” A passage in the “Destruction of Da Derga’s Hostel” shows that this feat was performed with the shield. See L.U. 97ᵇ20, 21, where Mac Cecht performs the faen-feat with his shield, and the edge-feat with his sword. =Faer-dord´= [_Ferdord_ L.U. 78ᵃ23, 24]. _Fer_ (Mod. Ir., _fear_) is “a man.” _Dord_ means “a humming,” also “the bass in music.” Thus _ferdord_ was probably some kind of deep bass crooning with the intent of inducing sleep. =Feea= [_Fiach_]. A debt. =Feehill= [_Fidchell_, _fithchioll_]. Often translated “chess.” But _fidchell_ and _brandubh_ seem to have been distinct games. In the _Agallamh_ (I. T. Vierte Serie, 1 Heft. p. 196) we are told that on a certain occasion a _fidchell_ was given to every six men, a _brannabh_ to every five men, and so on. As _brandubh_ seems certainly to have been chess, perhaps _fidchell_ may have been a game like draughts. Dr. Stokes and Dr. Meyer translate it “draughts.” At the same time, a line occurring in a poem in “The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Grainne,” _idir triath agus laoch_, “both chief and soldier,” seems to show that in _fidchell_ there were pieces of more than one value. See Oss. iii. 154. =Fertas= [_Fertas_]. A distaff; a spindle; the pole of a chariot. Hence, probably in place-names, a sandy bar across the mouth of a river. Was the modern _fersad_, which has all these meanings, formed by metathesis from _fertas_? See Windisch, Táin, line 5650, where _ferrsat_ is used for _fertas_. =Fin-drin´-ny= [_Findruine_]. Often translated “white bronze.” It seems to have been some kind of white alloy. =Fooan= [_Fúan_]. This seems to have been a kind of very ample wrap or mantle. =Fooavrōg= [_Fuathbróc_]. A covering for the lower part of the body, probably short breeches. See Zimmer, K.S. 6, pp. 81-88. =Gae Bulg.= The name of Cucullin’s famous spear. _Gae_ means “a spear,” “a dart.” In the L.L. text of the Táin we have the forms _gai bulgga_, _gae bulgae_, _gae bulga_. Perhaps I ought to have adopted the form _gae bulga_. But in the _Foghlaimh Chonchulainn_ we have _cles an gadh builg_. In the curious poem translated by O’Curry, M. & C. ii. 311, we twice have the form _Gae Bolg_. This poem says that the spear was made from the bones of a sea-monster by Bolg mac Buain a famed champion of the east, and that after passing through various other hands it came to Scawtha. =The Gantree= [_Gentraide_]. A kind of music. From _gen_ (Mod. Ir. _gean_), “laughter,” “a smile.” See L.L. 249ᵃ; also M. & C. =Gass=, pl. =gassa= [_Geis_, pl. _gesa_. Mod. Ir. _geas_, pl. _geasa_]. A prohibition or injunction, magically imposed and involving magical penalties if disregarded. Often translated “taboo.” =Gillie= [_Gilla_, Mod. Ir. _Giolla_]. “A lad,” “a youth,” generally “a servant-lad.” =The Goltree= [_Goltraide_]. A kind of music; from _gol_, “the act of weeping or crying.” See L.L. 249ᵃ. =Greeanawn= [_Gríanán_]. A sunny apartment; from _grian_, the sun. =Guipney= [_Gipne_]. A fillet passed round the forehead. =The Iarngool= [_Ind ierngúali_, L.U. 121ᵇ8]. “The Iron-coal,” the name of the wonderful vat or cask in the Creev Roe. It would appear to be the same as the _ól-nguala_, the mighty _dabach_ or vat of brass, which Conor took as loot from the fortress of Gerg. See L.L. 258ᵇ14-19; L.L. 107ᵇ11. =Imbas Forosnai= [_Imbas Forosnai_]. A method of divination. It is said to have been prohibited by St. Patrick. See Corm., _Imbas Forosnai_. =Imda= [_Imda_, _imdae_]. A small sleeping compartment or cubicle contained within the great dwelling-house or hall. See the excellent account given by Joyce, Soc. Hist. ii. 45-54. =Imlee of Glendomna= [_Imslige glennamnach_, L.L. 78ᵃ52; _Imsligi gleanndomnach_, Y.B.L. 43ᵃ25]. _Imslige_ means “mutual slaughter.” The name seems afterwards to have been given to the spot where this slaughter took place (see L.L. 92ᵃ24); but I cannot identify it. =Innar= [_Inar_]. This would seem to have been a kind of short, close-fitting body-coat or tunic. =Inver= [_Inber_, Mod. Ir. _Inbhear_]. The mouth of a river. =Kenn´caem= [_Cend-chaem_]. “Handsome head,” the name of Conor’s playing-board for feehill. =Kesh= [_Cess_]. Suffering, torture. The _cess_ (more fully, _cess noinden_) was the name of the peculiar suffering into which the Ultonian warriors were thrown as the result of the curse of Maha. =Layna= [_léne_, _léine_], A shirt or smock; a linen garment worn next the skin. =Liss= [_Lis_, Mod. Ir. _lios_]. A dwelling or space protected by a circular mound. =Mĭnd= [_Mind_]. A crown, a diadem. =Neev= [_Nóeb_, _nóem_]. Holy. “_Neev_ Kieran” means “Saint Kieran.” =Nomad= [_Nomad_]. A period of nine days. =The Nowin= [_ind Neamain_]. At L.L. 76ᵃ14 this name is glossed _in badb_, “the Bive,” and it evidently refers either to the More-reega or to a sister-goddess. =Ogam= [_Ogum_, Mod. Ir. _ogham_]. A kind of writing, the letters of which were formed by combinations of points and short lines set at both sides of a stem or middle-line. In the Book of Ballymote, p. 308, there is an ancient treatise on ogam, with fascinating diagrams. Readers interested in the subject may consult ¹ Brash: _The Ogam inscribed Monuments of the Gaedhil in the British Islands_. ² Macalister: _Irish Epigraphy_. =The Ō-hawn´= [_in n-ócháin_]. The name of Conor’s great shield. This shield had four ears of gold. _Ó_ means “an ear”; and Dr. Windisch (_Táin_, p. 864) thinks that this element is contained in the name. =Ollav= [_Ollam_, Mod. Ir. _ollamh_]. A doctor of learning; a chief professor; a man in the highest rank of learned poets. =Partar= [_Partar_]. This is the form of the word that occurs L.L. 259ᵇ36 and 40. At L.L. 55ᵇ41 we have the form _partaing_. According to Dr. Windisch (_Táin_, p. 28), it was the name of the _Purpureae Parthicae_, “the Parthian purple.” =Rath= [_Ráith_, _raith_]. A fort, usually a circular earthen fort; a dwelling or collection of dwellings enclosed by an earthen rampart. =The Reeastartha= [_in ríastarde_]. “The Contorted,” a name sometimes given to Cucullin, owing to the contortion to which he was subject when overcome by rage. A description of this contortion occurs in Book xi. =Shee or Shee-mound= [_Síd_]. A hill or mound which was believed to be the dwelling of supernatural beings, gods or fairies. =Shee= [_Síde_, Mod. Ir. _sídh_]. The supernatural inhabitants of a Shee-mound. =Shessra= [_Seisrech_, L.L. 78ᵃ50]. This is evidently derived from _sesser_, six (persons), which in its genitive form occurs two lines previously. I have rendered it “the six-fold slaughter.” =Sooantree= [_Suantraide_]. A kind of music, from suan, “sleep.” See L.L. 249ᵃ. =Sowin= [_Samain_]. The first of November, now Hallowe’en. This was one of the chief points of division in the year. It was believed that evil spirits and also people of the Shee were specially wont to appear on that night. See the wild, weird tale of the Adventures of Nera, edited by Dr. Kuno Meyer, Rev. Celt. x. 212. There can be no doubt that many Hallowe’en customs of the present day, both in Ireland and Scotland, have come down to us from pagan times. =Srōl= [_sról_]. This was some kind of silken material of delicate texture. An old Connaught native speaker tells me that in her youth _sról_ was the name of a kind of very beautiful tabbinet made of a mixture of silk and wool. =Stooag= [_Stuag_]. Something arched or curved or peaked; a hook. =Táin= [_Táin_]. A cattle-raid, a cattle-driving. =Tal´-kend= [_Tal-cend_, _tail-cend_]. See Lib. Hym. i. 100. “Adze-head,” a name given to St. Patrick in allusion to his tonsure. It was evidently meant to express derision. I hope I do not err in using it as a term of honour! But compare _Battle of Magh Rath_, p. 182, line 17, “_Tricha Tailgenn togaide_,” on which O’Donovan remarks: “Here the word ‘Tailgenn’ is used to denote a distinguished saint or ecclesiastic.” =Timpan= [_Timpan_]. Derived form the Latin _Tympanum_; yet it was certainly a stringed instrument. See O’Curry’s discussion of the whole subject, M. &. C. vol. iii. lecture xxxii. =Turlough= [_Taurloch_, L.L. 59, 31]. A lake which dries up in summer. =Yō= [_Eó_]. A brooch; probably a brooch of the familiar Irish type, having a long spike or stave. _Eó_ was an old word for “tree.” See L.L. 200ᵃ12, _Dair dano eo Mugna_, “Now the tree of Mugna is an oak.” “Spike” or “stave” was probably a derivative meaning. APPENDIX B THE PLACE-NAMES OCCURRING IN THE VERSE [The “learned terms” in Book vii. are not included.] =Aenloch= [_Énloch_, L.L. 245ᵇ10]. I adopt this form in L.L. which means “bird-lake,” and have supposed it to be somewhere to the north or north-west of Croohan. Elsewhere (See L.L. 31ᵇ29, and Archiv. iii, p. 5) the place of the death and burial of Fergus is called Findloch, “white-lake”; and this, probably, was the lake still called _Findloch_, about seven miles south-east of Croohan. _Énloch for Maig Ai_, “Aenloch on Moy Wee,” is mentioned Silv. Gad. i. 256, but its whereabouts is not indicated. =Africa= [_Affraic_]. See Windisch, _Táin_, p. 819. =Alba= [_Alba_]. Scotland. =Alps.= See Appendix E. =Ard A´-had= [_Ardachad_]. “High-field.” There were many places so named. This “High-field” comes next after Ath Gowla in the Itinerary L.L. 56. =Ardcullin= [_Ard Chuillend_, L.L.; _Iraird Cuillend_, L.U.]. In L.U. we are told that this place is called “_Crossa Cúil_ to-day.” _Crossa Cúil_ may perhaps be the village of Crossakeel in Meath, and the pillar-stone may have been on some adjoining height from which a wide view could be obtained. The boundary of ancient Ulster, which extended from the mouth of the Boyne to the point where County Leitrim touches the sea, may very well have passed through this place. =Ard-keen´-aht= [_Árd Chiannacht_]. The whole of the present barony of Ferrard, in the County Louth, was called _Árd Cianachta_. (See B.R. p. 186, note). But in the _Táin_, _Árd Ciannacht_ seems to apply to some one definite spot. =Ards of Ulster.= In the _Mesca Uladh_, L.L. 267ᵇ3, we have the words: _Blad briuga mac Fiachna a Temair na hArda_, “Blad (= Blai) the brewy, the son of Fiachna from Tara in the Ards.” This, I feel no doubt, was the very fine earthen fort still called Tara, which crowns a hill at the southern extremity of the Ards peninsula to the east of Strangford Lough. This _Bruiden_ or “house of hospitality” of Blai the Brewy was one of the six most celebrated houses of entertainment in ancient Erin. (See L.L. 112ᵃ4). =Armenia.= See Appendix E. =Assal.= See “Road of Assal.” =Assa-roe´= [_Ess Rúaid_]. The falls at Ballyshannon in County Donegal. =Ath Carpat= [_Áth Carpait_]. A ford on the Nith. See “Goola Milhy.” =Ath Cleea= [_Áth Cliath_]. The usual Irish name for Dublin. Cf. L.L. 104ᵃ47, _Dublind rissaraiter Ath Cliath_, “Dublin, which is called Ath Cliath.” =Ath Faerdeeah= [_Áth Fhir diad_]. “The Ford of Faerdeeah,” now shortened to Ardee, the name of a little town on the river Dee (the ancient Nith) in County Louth. O’Donovan says: “The grave of Ferdiah is shown at Ardee, 14 yards long, 9 or 10 feet wide. About two yards of the tumulus in the middle is cut away, so as to be level with the ground. It lies ... about 80 perches west of Ardee.” =Ath Fayna= [_Áth Féinne_]. Not an uncommon ford-name. This may be the same as the _Áth fhéne_ of the _Amra Choluim Chille_ (see L.U. 6ᵃ29). =Ath Frae= [_Áth Fráich_, L.U. 63ᵇ24]. “The Ford of Frae.” Not identified, so far as I know. At L.U. 63ᵇ11 we are told that its former name was _Ath Fúait_; but it was not therefore necessarily near _Sliab Fúait_, for the element _fúait_ enters into various place-names. =Ath Gowla= [_Áth n-Gabla_]. This has sometimes been spoken of as a ford on the Boyne, but it was not: the host came past Kells and did not go south of the Boyne. At L.L. 59. 31, we are told that it was at “the turlough of the great forest, northward of Knowth of Kings.” Knowth is about two miles east of Slane. A turlough is a lake which dries up in summer. L.U. 58ᵃ33 (gloss) speaks of the pass (_beloch_) through the great forest. Was the turlough a flood-like expansion of the little river Mattock? =Ath Greena= [_Áth n-grena_]. The older name of _Ath Gowla_. =Ath Lahan= [_Áth Lethain_]. A ford on the Nith. See “Goola Milhy.” =Athlone= [_Áth luain_]. “The Ford of the Loin.” The town of Athlone on the Shannon. =Ath na Foraire= [_Áth na Foraire_]. See “Ford of Watching.” =Ath Neermeeda= [_Áth n-Irmidi_]. The older name of _Ath Fayna_, which see. =Ath Tray= [_Áth Traiged_]. “Ford of the Foot.” Said to be in Tir Mór; but but I cannot identify _Tir Mór_. =Ath Vaeva= [_Áth Medbi_]. “The Ford of Maev.” =Avvin Maha= [_Emain Macha_]. The ancient capital of Ulster was two miles due west of the present city of Armagh. The great mound, with what remains of its fosse, is now called Navan Ring. A townland to the west of the Ring still bears the name of Creeve Roe. Avvin Maha was destroyed by the three Collas, A.D. 331; and the Ulstermen did not dwell in it afterwards. It has been conjectured that Avvin Maha was Ptolemy’s _Regia_. =Baeg= [_Bedg_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. _Bedg_ means “a sudden spring or start.” =Bally Al´-yone= [_Bélat aileáin_]. “The Crossway of the Island.” (See “Cooley”). =Banba= [_Banba_]. One of the ancient names for Ireland. =Barna na darriv= [_Berna na d-tarb_]. “The gap of the bulls.” =Barna Tána Bó.= (See “Cooley”). =Ben Edar= [_Bend Etair_]. The Hill of Howth, near Dublin. =Bill-awn´= [_Bithlán_, _Bithslán_]. “The Ever-full,” or “the Ever-healthful.” One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Billi Vaeva= [_Bile Medba_]. “Maev’s Tree.” _Bile_ means generally a large, venerable or sacred tree. =Bir= [_Bir_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. _Bir_ means “a spit.” =Booan= [_Buan_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. _Buan_ means “enduring.” =Boyne= [_Boand_]. The river Boyne, which joins the sea at Drogheda. =Bray Ross= [_Breg Ross_]. Evidently the district just north of Ardee. =Bree Aerga= [_Brí Errgi_]. I do not know that this famous place has yet been identified; but I think it should be looked for in County Donegal, not far from Ballyshannon. I take the _Raith Argi_ of Trip. Life, p. 328, to be the same place, and this was in the barony of Tirhugh, County Donegal. Compare Trip. Life, 352, where it is said that the extent of the boundary of St. Patrick’s see was to be: “_a pinna montis Berbicis_ [= probably _Benna Boirche_, the Mourne Mountains] usque ad montem _Mis_ [= Slemish in County Antrim], a monte _Miss_ usque ad _Bri Erigi_, a _Bri Erigi_ usque ad _Dorsos Breg_ [= Drum Bray].” If, as I conjecture, _Raith Argi_ and _Bri Erigi_ were the same place, the extent of St. Patrick’s see, as promised by the angel, was practically to coincide with the extent of ancient Ulster. =Bregan’s Tower= [_Tor m-Breogain_]. After the Gaels had come from Scythia to Spain, one of their number, Bregan, erected a tower and city which were named after him, Brigantia. It was from this tower that Ith, his son, in the evening of a winter day first perceived Ireland in the distance! (See L.L. 3 and 4). Brigantia was on the coast not far from the modern Betanzos, in Galicia. See the account of O’Donnell’s visit to Bregan’s Tower in 1602. “He was rejoiced to have landed at that place, for he deemed it to be an omen of good success that he had arrived at the place from whence his ancestor had formerly obtained power and sway over Ireland.” (F.M. 1602). =Brenid= [_Brenide_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. It probably means “stinking,” “rotten.” Let us hope that the stream belied its name at the time when Cucullin was bathed in it. =Bressla More= [_Breslech Mór_]. (See the same name, Appendix A.) It must have been somewhere in the northern half of County Louth. _Ath Aladh_ was another name for the same place. Windisch, _Táin_, p. 337, n. 6. =Britain= [_Bretain_, _Breatain_]. Those western parts of Great Britain which were inhabited by the Britons. =Bush= [_Buas_]. The river Bush in County Antrim. It was “one of the sovereign waters of Ireland.” See Rev. Celt. xxii. 321. =Caha= [_Catha_ L.L. 56ᵇ42]. Apparently a river flowing into the Boyne, some way to the west of Slane. =Cahir Conree= [_Cathir Conruí_]. “The City of Cúrúi.” The remains of this cahir are still to be seen on Slieve Mish, near Tralee, in Kerry. In the Triads (Y.B.L. 415ᵃ2) it is mentioned as one of the Three Doons, or strong places of Ireland, the other two being Dunseverick and Duncermna. =Callan= [_Calland_]. The river which flows past Armagh, and joins the Blackwater near Moy. It is still called the Callan. =Cann Teera More= [_Cend Tiri Móir_]. “The Head of the Great Land.” The same term occurs _Rennes_ 66. I do not understand it. =Carrloig= [_Carrlóig_, L.L. 94ᵇ1]. I think that this place, from which Kehern was to be summoned, was probably an old name for _Dun-Ceithirn_, now the Giant’s Sconce, in the parish of Dunboe, in the north of County Londonderry. Kehern’s father, Finntan, and his grandfather, Niall Niamhghlonnach, lived at _Dún dá bheann_, now Mount Sandel, not very far away. The words _laoch_ and _carn_ occurring in the two last lines of Inda’s Lament (Windisch, _Táin_, p. 639), though they suggest a different etymology, contain, I fancy, an allusion to this place-name. The _Carrlaoigh_ of “Fragments of Irish Annals,” p. 14, and the _Cairloegh_ of F.M. 478, appear to be the same place as the _Carrlóig_ of the _Táin_. =Carthage.= See Windisch, _Táin_, p. 819. =Cenannas= [_Cenannas_]. Now Kells, in Meath. =City of Moorn= [_Cathair Muirne_]. See the full account in “The Martial Career of Conghal Cláiringhneach” (Irish Texts Soc., vol. v.). Is the story founded on an account of Iceland and its volcano by some very early traveller? Fergus was said to be a fortnight and a month sailing to it from Lochlann (Denmark). =Clahra= [_Clathra_, _Clartha_]. This may possibly be Clara on the Brosna in King’s County; but it is more likely, I think, to be _Caislean Clártha_, now anglicised Clare Castle, which “is situated on a conspicuous hill in the parish of Killare, not far from the celebrated but now poor village of Ballymore Lough Sewdy, in the County of Westmeath.” See F.M. 1544, note _y_. =Cleer Bó Ulla= [_Clithar bō Ulad_]. “The shelter of the cows of the Ultonians.” Probably somewhere towards the centre of County Louth. =Cletty= [_Cleittech_]. This was a famous royal residence “above the brink of the Boyne” not far from Slane. =Clon-ard´= [_Cluain Iraird_]. On the Boyne about ten miles above Trim. See the account of it in Wilde’s “Beauties of the Boyne.” =Clō-na-Darriv= [_Clodh na d-tarb_]. “The dyke, or earthen wall, of the bulls.” =Clonmacnoise= [_Cluain-mic-Nois_]. On the Shannon about nine miles below Athlone. =Connallia Mweerhevna= [_Conailli Muirthemni_]. See “Moy Mweerhevna.” =Connaught= [_Connacht_]. The ancient Connacht included the present County of Clare. See O’Mahony’s Keating, p. 88. =Cooley= [_Cualnge_]. In dealing with the topography of Cooley we are met by two difficulties. The first lies in our ignorance of the exact extent of the ancient Cooley, the Cooley of the Táin. It would seem to have included not only the mountainous Carlingford peninsula in County Louth, but also Slieve Gullion in County Armagh, and the Mourne Mountains in County Down. Compare =1.= _Echtra Nerai_ (Rev. Celt. x. 224), where there is a poem containing the line _i m-Bairchi hi Cuailgniu_, “in Bairchi in Cooley.” _Bairchi_ seems to mean the Mourne Mountains, the old name of which was _Benna Boirche_ (or _Bairche_). =2.= _Cóir Anmann_, 269 (I.T.) where _Glenn Samaisce_ is said to be in Cooley. In the Táin we are told that it is in Slieve Gullion. =3.= Y.B.L. 53ᵃ26, where we are told that the bull on returning to Cooley, “went upon the Road of Meedlougher into _Cuib_. It is there that he used to be with the dry kine of Dawra.” _Cuib_ is “Moy Cova” in the baronies of Upper and Lower Iveagh in County Down. Hence it seems likely that the house of Dawra may have been on one of the northern slopes of the Mourne Mountains. Our second difficulty lies in this: we have three versions of the harrying of Cooley. The first is contained in L.L. 69ᵃ44-69ᵇ46. It is the simplest and clearest; but much of the most interesting material is omitted. The other two accounts are in L.U., whose redactor in his usual scholarly manner gives them successively, so that the reader may compare them for himself. The second of these two L.U. accounts is chiefly in poetry, archaic and difficult, and it perhaps represents the oldest Táin-material which has come down to us. To reconcile the topography of these three versions is impossible, though there are some points wherein they seem to agree. Thus, up to the present we have been able to identify hardly any of the places in Cooley. I can only make the following suggestions:— _Drumenna_ [_Druim En_ L.L., _Druim Féne_ L.U.]. I think this was perhaps the wooded height now called Trumpet Hill, near Ballymascanlan, County Louth. In the very interesting old “map of County Down” by Gerard Kremer-Mercator this hill is marked _Drommena_, and an old woman living near the place told me that in her childhood Irish-speakers called it by this name. The situation would fit the story: it was just on the borders of Cooley and Connallia. _Slieve Fauhan_ [_Sliab Ocháine_]. If Trumpet Hill was _Druim En_, Slieve Fauhan, whence Cucullin hurled at the camp, must have been one of the higher mountains to the east of it. Now, in Mercator’s map one of these mountains is marked _Slew Wyaghno_, a name which might easily be a corruption of _Sliab Ocháine_. Perhaps the name applied to the whole line of mountains between Ballymakellett and Piedmont. Does it still survive? I failed to find it. _Glen Fauhan_ [_Glend Focháine_]. If the identification of Slieve Fauhan is right, Glen Fauhan was probably the valley of the little river which joins the sea a short mile to the east of Bellurgan Station. _Glass Crond_ [_Crond_; _Glaiss Cruind_]. It seems likely that this may have been the stream now called the Piedmont River. It issues from the mountain just below the Windy Gap (at “the Long Woman’s Grave”) by which the roadway crosses the Carlingford Peninsula, and it falls into Dundalk Bay. _Barna Tana Bo Cooley_. If the Piedmont River is Glass Crond, then the famous pass which Maev caused to be made is the above-mentioned Windy Gap. _Glass Colpa_ [_Glaiss Colptha_]. This seems to be the same as the _Aband cholpthai i cualngiu_ of L.L. 110ᵇ33 (the story of Goll and Garb). But I cannot identify it. These are all the suggestions I can make. The account of the harrying of Cooley which I give in Book viii. is a much abbreviated conflation of the three versions described above. Those, therefore, who wish to work at the topography of Cooley, will not find help in it; they must work from original sources. =Cool Shibrilly= [_Cúil Sibrilli, Cúil Sibrinni_]. Said in the Táin to be south-west of Kells. According to F.M., A.M. 3991, _Dún Chuile Sibrinne_ was an old name for Kells. =Cool Shillinny= [_Cúil Silinne_]. Now Kilcooley, only four miles or so to the south-east of Croohan. See F.M. 1418. =Corann= [_Corann_]. This territory is now represented by the barony of Corran in County Sligo. =Corcum-roe´= [_Corcumruad_]. Now represented by the barony of Corcumroe in County Clare; but in ancient times the territory of Corcumroe included Burren. (The) =Corry of Glenn Gatt= [_Dub cairiu glinni Gatt_. L.U. 65ᵃ21]. See “Cooley.” (The) =Craggs of Manann= [_Cairrge Manann_]. Rocks on the coast of the Isle of Man. =Crannig= [N. _Crandach_; G. _Crandche_; D. _Crandaig_]. In making Crannig the old name of Faughard, I was relying on L.L. 73ᵃ47-51; but in reality _Crandach_, “the Woody Place,” seems to be used somewhat vaguely; and it may have been applied to a good stretch of country. =Crithny= [_Cruithnech_]. The Land of the Picts. The Irish Picts were settled in the ancient _Dál araidhe_, namely, the southern half of County Antrim and the northern part of County Down. =Croagh Patrick= [_Cruach-Phádruig_]. A high mountain on the southern side of Clew Bay in County Mayo. On a clear afternoon it may be seen from Rath Croohan, fifty miles to the east of it. =Cromma= [_Cromma_]. Apparently a river flowing into the Boyne a little to the west of Slane. =Croohan= [_Cruachan_ or _Rath Cruachan_]. The ancient capital of Connaught, now Rathcroghan, near Bellanagare in County Roscommon. Many mounds and raths are still to be seen there, as well as the ancient royal burial-field and the pillar-stone over the grave of Dawthy. =Cullin= [_Cuilend_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Is it the Cully Water which flows southward from County Armagh into County Louth to the west of Forkill? =Cumung= [_Cumung_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. _Cumung_ means “narrow,” “constricted.” =Dalriada= [_Dál riada_]. The northern part of County Antrim. See the account of it, Reeves, p. 318. =Deehaem= [_Dichaem_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Delind= [_Delaind_]. A river crossed by the hosts on their way eastward to Kells. Not identified. =Delt= [_Delt_]. A river crossed by the hosts on their way eastward to Kells. Not identified. =Delt= [_Delt_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. It may possibly have been the _Doailte_ in _Crich Roiss_ which is mentioned F.M., A.M. 4169. _Crich Roiss_ was partly in the barony of Farney in County Monaghan, and partly in the adjoining portion of County Louth. =Dooglass= [_Dubglass_]. “The black stream.” One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Doolough= [_Dubloch_]. “The black lake.” Somewhere between Kilcooley and Slieve Bawne in County Roscommon. =Doon Borrig= [_Dún Borraig_]. This famous fortress was on the headland of Torr in County Antrim, a point at which there are only about twelve miles between the coasts of Ireland and Scotland. It would now be pronounced “Dunwarry” or “Dunvarry.” See the very interesting account, O’Lav. iv. 479 and 520. =Doon Dalgan= [_Delga_ L.U. 68ᵃ8; _go Dun Dealgan_ C.R.R. 66]. Now anglicised Dundalk. The ancient doon, now called the Castletown Moat, is about a mile inland. =Doon Feea= [_Dún-fidhgha_; _Dûn fiodhaigh_]. “The doon of the wood, or thicket.” Perhaps near Loch Etive. =Doon Finn= [_Dún Finn_]. “The white doon.” Perhaps near Loch Etive. (The) =Doon of the Sons of Nahta Scaena= [_Dún mac Nechtáin Scéne_]. O’Curry says this was “on the right bank of the little river Mattock, where it falls into the Boyne.” See M. and C. ii., p. 292. This doon is mentioned in the _Dindsenchas_. See Rev. Celt. xvi., p. 83; but outside the Táin, I remember no other reference to it. =Drong= [_Drong_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Drum Bray= [_Druimne Breg_ T.E. § 38.] = Slieve Bray [_Sliab Breg_]. A line of low heights stretching across the barony of Upper Slane in Meath and the barony of Ferrard in Louth, and forming the northern watershed of the Boyne. =Drumenna=. See under “Cooley.” =Drum Keen= [_Druim Cáin_, L.L. 56ᵇ20]. “The fair or beautiful ridge.” There were many places so named. =Drum Leek= [_Druimm Licci_]. “The ridge of the flagstone.” Somewhere near Slane. =Drum-na-darriv= [_Druim na d-tarbh_]. “The ridge of the bulls.” =Drum Saulinn= [_Druim Salaind_, L.L.; _Druim Sálfind_, L.U.]. Is this Drumshallon about six miles north of Drogheda? It seems possible. =Dunseverick= [_Dún Sobairche_]. About three miles east of the Giant’s Causeway in County Antrim. One of the Three Doons of Ireland. (Triads, Y.B.L. 415ᵃ2). =Duv= [_Dub_]. “The Black.” The first river passed after leaving Kells. Therefore, almost certainly, the Blackwater. =Edon More= [_Eo dond mór_]. “The great brown tree.” Somewhere towards the middle of County Louth. Probably the same place as that in which the battle of _Euduind móir_ was fought. See F.M. 590. =Erin= [N. _Eriu_; G. _Erend_; D. _Erind_] Ireland. I have adhered to the dative form, which has already been adopted in English. =Farney= [_Fernmag_]. “The plain of alders.” Now the barony of Farney in County Monaghan. =Faughard= [_Fochaird_]. The height still called Faughard about three miles north of Dundalk. =Fauhan.= See under “Cooley.” =Fawl= [_Fál_]. An old name for Ireland. See L.L. 261ᵃ37. Sometimes we have _Inis Fáil_, “the Island of Fál.” The name was derived from the _Fál_ or _Lia Fáil_ in Tara, “the stone that used to roar under the feet of every king that would take possession of Ireland.” See Rev. Celt. xv. 281 and 285. =Fedain Collna= [_Fedain chollna_, Y.B.L. 50ᵃ28]. This must have been somewhere near Clahra, which see. =Fĕven= [_Femen_]. The Plain of Femen was in the south of Tipperary. It is now the barony of Iffa and Offa East. I do not know whether the famous Sheemound of Bove has been identified or not; but see _Ac. na Sen_. 2775, where we are told that in somewhat later times it was called _Sidh ban find_, “the Shee-mound of white women.” O’Donovan says that _Sliabh na mban bhfionn_, “the mountain of the white women,” was the ancient name of Slieve-na-man; so, probably, it was this striking mountain which was the residence of Bove. =Findabair.= (See under “Cooley”). =Finncarn.= (See under “Slieve Mourne”). =Finnglass= [_Finnglais_]. “The white stream.” One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Finnglass= [_Finnglass Assail_]. A river crossed by the hosts. Not identified. See “Road of Assal.” =Finngower= [_Fingabair_]. Probably in Slieve Foo-id; for at L.L. 89ᵇ26 Fingin is said to be at _Leccain Sleibe Fúait_. =Fo-dromma= [_Fodromma_]. This seems to be a river flowing into the Boyne very close to Slane. =Ford of Bercna= [_Áth Bercna_]. Probably to the north-west of Croohan, near Bellanagare or Frenchpark. See also _Ac. na Sen._ 7862. =Ford of Coltna= [_Áth Coltna_]. This seems to be connected with _Coltain_ L.L. 56ᵇ15, and _Móin Coltna_ L.L. 58ᵃ17. It must have been somewhere near Slieve Bawne, and south-east of Croohan. =Ford of Moga= [_Áth Moga_]. A ford over the river Suck. Now Ballymoe, about ten miles south-west of Croohan. =Ford of Shlissen= [_Áth Slissen_]. A ford over the Owenure River, near Elphin, now Bellaslishen Bridge. See F.M. 1288. It is about six miles to the north-east of Croohan. =Ford of the two Magic Deeds= [_Áth da Ferta_, Y.B.L. 55ᵃ23, cf. _vadum duarum virtutum_ (_Mirabilium_), An. Ulster 818]. At L.L. 79ᵇ7 this ford is said to be in Slieve Foo-id. Elsewhere it is said to be in Moy Mweerhevna. Therefore, probably, it was at a point where the hills (Slieve Foo-id) join the plain (Moy Mweerhevna) on the southern border of the barony of Upper Fews in County Armagh. =Ford of Watching= [_Áth na Foraire_]. This was evidently on the road between Avvin Maha and Loch Ahtra (Lake Muckno). Outside the _Táin_ I remember no reference to _Áth na Foraire_; but there are many references to _Carn na foraire_, “the Cairn of Watching”; and the latter may perhaps be identified with Carnagh, a hill about four miles south of Keady. This hill must have commanded a wide view towards the territory of Mourne and the sometimes hostile sub-kingdom of Farney in the south. =Gan´-a-win= [_Gáinemain_]. “The sandy.” One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Gaul.= See the remarks by Dr. Kuno Meyer, Rev. Celt. xi. 438. =Gawrig= [_Gárech_, dat. _Gárig_]. I think the site of the great battle was near Ballymore, in Westmeath. See “Clahra.” =Glass Colpa= [_Glaiss Colptha_]. See under “Cooley.” =Glass Crond= [_Crond_; _Glaiss Cruind_]. See under “Cooley.” =Glass Gatlig= [_Glaiss Gatlaig_]. See under “Cooley.” =Glen´-a-win= [_Glenamain_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Glen Bray= [_Gleunn mBreogaind_, T.E. § 39]. A glen between Drum Bray and the Boyne. Moy Bray, Glen Bray, &c., are said to have been named after Bregan, the builder of Bregan’s Tower. =Glen Daw Roo= [_Glenn Da Rúadh_]. Said to be Glendaruel, in Argyle. For an account of the various glens in Argyle, supposed to be those which are described in Daerdra’s song, see “Loch Etive and the Sons of Uisneach,” by the late Dr. Angus Smith. =Glendomna.= See “Imlee of Glendomna,” Appendix A. =Glen Etive= [_Glenn Eitchi_]. Glen Etive in Argyle. =Glen Faer-bay´= [_Glend Firbaith_, L.U. 74ᵃ11]. This must have been close to Faughard. =Glen Fauhan= [_Glend Focháine_]. See under “Cooley.” =Glen Gatt= [_Glend ngat_, L.U. 65ᵃ23]. See under “Cooley.” =Glen Law´-ee= [_Glend Láid_]. Said to be Glenlochy in Argyle. =Glen Massan= [_Glend Masain_]. Said to be Glenmasan, at the head of Loch Striven, in Argyle. =Glen Samaska= [_Glend na Samaisce_]. “Glen of the heifers.” This must have been close to Slieve Gullion, in County Armagh. =Glen Taul= [_Glend Táil_]. See under “Cooley.” =Glen Urkeen= [_Glend Urchán_, _Orchaoin_]. Said to be Glenorchy, in Argyle. =Glore= [_Gleóir_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Goola Milhy= [_Guala Muilchi_]. On the river Dee (the ancient _Nith_). Is this the townland of Drumgoolestown between Dromin and Stabannan in County Louth? =Gower= [_Gabair_]. Perhaps to the west of Loch Neagh. See _Fir Gabrae_, Trip. Life, Index. =Granard= [_Granard_, L.U. 57ᵃ30 _gloss_]. The town of Granard, in the east of County Longford. =Great Greece.= See Appendix E. =Great Snowy Land.= See Appendix E. =Greece.= See Appendix E. =Grellah Cul´-găry= [_Grellach Culgairi_]. “The miry place of the chariot-noise.” One gathers from _Táin Bo Regamna_ that this was the old name for Grellah Dollud, which see. =Grellah Dollud= [_Grellach Dolluid_]. O’Donovan (F.M. 693, note) suggests that this place was Girly near Kells. But _Tochmarc Emire_ and _Táin Bo Regamna_ show clearly that it was somewhere in Moy Mweerhevna. =Grey Lake= [_Lind Liath_]. Somewhere in Slieve Foo-id. (The) =Height of Willows= [_Árd na Sáilech_]. Now Armagh, cf. Trip. Life, ii. 473. (The) =Hill of Usna= [_Uisneach_]. In the barony of Rathconrath, in Westmeath. “The reputed centre of Ireland.” =Ilgawrig= [_Ilgáirig_]. See “Gawrig.” =Imlee of Glendomna.= See Appendix A. =Immil.= See “Loch Laery.” =Innish Cooscree= [_Inis Cuscraid_]. Now Inch, near Downpatrick. =Innish Draiguen= [_Inis Draigen_]. Perhaps “a projecting rocky land called _Ruadh nan Draighnean_,” near Bunawe, in Argyle. See “Loch Etive and the Sons of Uisneach.” =Inn´-yone= [_Indeóin_]. This was the old name of the Dungolman River, which separates the baronies of Rathconrath and Kilkenny West, in Westmeath. It seems to mark the southern limit of “the long devious course” by which Fergus led the hosts. =Inver Colpa= [_Inbher Colptha_]. The estuary of the Boyne. =Iona= [_I Choluim Chille_]. An island off the Ross of Mull in Scotland. Of great fame in connexion with St. Columba. =Irrus Domnann= [_Irros Domnand_]. Now the barony of Erris in County Mayo. =Islands of the Athishec.= See Appendix E. =Islands of the Foreigners= } [_Insi-Gall_]. The Hebrides, or Western =Islands of the Gall= } Isles of Scotland. =Isles of Gat= [_Indsi Gaid_, Y.B.L. 46ᵃ27]. When writing, I understood these to be the same as the _Insi Cadd_ of C.R.R. p. 10, and the _Insi Cat_ of G. and G., p. 152, namely, the Shetland Islands; and I recast the passage. But Dr. Windisch (_Táin_, p. 722) quite rightly, I think, understands them to be the Islands of Cadiz. The sentiment expressed by Fergus is not affected by the difference! =Isles of Orc= [_Indsi Orcc_, Y.B.L. 46ᵃ26]. The Orkney Islands. =Kell Cooan= [_Caill Cuan_]. “The Wood of Cooan.” I cannot identify this; but there was a high road leading to it from Moy Mweerhevna. _Cuan_ means “a harbour.” =Kyle Cooan= [_Caill Cuan_]. Somewhere in Argyle. I don’t know whether it has been identified. =Knowth= [_Cnogba_]. A great tumulus on the Boyne, a couple of miles east of Slane. In the Triads the Cave of Knowth is one of the three Dark Places of Erin. =Land of Sorca= [_Tír na Sorcha_; _Tír Sorcha_]. A supernatural country, the same as _Tír Tairngiri_, “the Land of Promise.” In the story called _Serglige Conculaind_ (L.U. 43-50) it is described in very beautiful poetry: the name occurs at L.U. 48ᵃ41. (The) =Larguey= [_Lerga_]. _Lerga_ means “a slope,” “a hillside,” and is found in very many place-names in Ulster. The Larguey of Book xi. must have been close to the place afterwards called the Bressla More. =Leek More= [dat. _ic Líic Móir_]. Not identified. =Leesa Leek= [_Liasa liac_]. See under “Cooley.” =Le-Glass= [_Lethglais_, _Dún Leithglaisse_]. Now Downpatrick. The great doon of Keltar, which has given its name, “Down,” to the whole country, may still be seen there. =Leinster= [_Lagen_]. An ancient name for Leinster was _Gailean_. In the _Táin_ the men of Leinster are called the _Galeóin_. =Letteree= [_Leitir-Ruige_]. Unfortunately I have not read the _Cath Leitreach-Ruige_, of which there is a copy, R.I.A. 23 k. 37. It may supply data for the identification of this place. =Lind Format.= See Appendix E. =Loch Ahtra= [_co Fertais Locha Echtrand_]. Now Muckno Lake, County Monaghan. See F.M., A.M. 2535, note t. =Loch Etive= [_Loch Eitche_]. Loch Etive in Argyle. =Loch Laery= [_Loch Laoghaire_, Haliday’s Keating, p. 390]. This must have been Belfast Lough. Compare “Death-Tales of Ulster Heroes” by Dr. Kuno Meyer, p. 22, and “Deaths of some Irish Heroes” by Dr. Stokes, Rev. Celt, xxiii, pp. 320, 325, 335: from these passages we learn that the house of the great Laery the Victorious was on the brink of _Loch Lái_, _Loch Laogh_, _Loch Láig_, _Loch Lóig_, all various spellings of the old name for Belfast Lough. The country near his house was called _Críoch Láoghaire Bhuadhaigh_, “the Territory of Laery the Victorious.” In the _Táin_ the name of his rath is variously given as _Immiailli_, _Impail_, _Ráith Imbil_, _Ráith Impail_, &c., a name which possibly, I think, contains an allusion to its situation on the edge of the sea, for _Imbel_ means “an edge,” “a border.” I would suggest that it may have been at Carnalea, the last syllable of which name is probably derived from the ancient name of the Lough. =Loch-na-darriv= [_Loch-na-d-tarb_]. “The lake of the bulls.” =Loch Ree= [_Loch Rí_]. Lough Ree, an expansion of the Shannon. =Loo´-a-her= [_Luachair_]. Perhaps Slieve Lougher near Castleisland in County Kerry. =Loolohta Lōha= [dat. _Luglochtaib Loga_]. In “_The Battle of Magh Rath_,” p. 52, we are told that the _bruighean_ of Forgall Mona was _i taeb Lusca_ “beside Lusk” (County Dublin). =Maeda of the Bird= [_Méide ind eóin_]. } These places must have =Maeda of the Squirrel= [_Méide in togmaill_]. } been near the middle of the County Louth. _Méide_ means “a neck.” (The Three) =Maels of Meath= [_na tri Maela Mide_]. There is a reference to these Silv. Gad. i. 308; but I cannot identify them. (The Three) =Maels of Connaught= [_na tri maoláin Atha Luáin_, “the three Maels of Athlone”]. These must be three hills close to Athlone, on the Connaught side. =Meath= [_Mide_]. The ancient Meath contained the present counties of Meath and Westmeath and much territory besides. See O’Mahony’s Keating, p. 86. =Meedlougher=. See “Road of Meedlougher.” =Meelic= [_Miliuc_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Mone Coltna= [_Móin Chóiltrae_, L.U. 57ᵃ9]. This seems to be the same place as the _Coltain_ of the Itinerary L.U. and L.L. Apparently a moor between Slieve Bawne and the Shannon. =Mooah= [_Muach_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Mound of Ercmon= [_Sid Ercmon_, Celt. Zeit. 241]. In the unedited _Coga Fergusa agus Conchobar_, “Wars of Fergus and Conor,” R.I.A. 23 k. 37, there is a _Síodh Ealcmar_, which may be the same place; but I cannot identify it. =Mourne= [_a Moduirn atúaid_, L.L. 98ᵃ42]. It seems likely that this territory of Munnrower son of Guerkind was _Mughdhorn Breagh_, “Mourne of Bray,” which was partly in Cavan, partly in Meath. Munnrower met his death “in his own lake,” Loch Munreamair (Rev. Celt. xxiii, 327) now Lough Ramor, County Cavan. At L.L. 114ᵃ38 he is called _Munremur lond Locha Sáil_; and _Loch Sáil_ seems to be _Loch Sailind_, now Lough Sheelin, not far from Lough Ramor. =Movilla= [_Magh bhile_]. Near Newtownards in County Down. =Moy Bray= [_Magh Breagh_]. Used vaguely for the whole of the comparatively level country between Dublin and Kells and Dundalk. =Moy Cova= [_Magh Cobha_]. The plain north-west of the Mourne Mountains, in the baronies of Upper and Lower Iveagh, County Down. =Moy Cronn= [_Magh Cruinn_]. This would seem to have been part of Moy Wee. =Moy Innish= [_Magh Inis_]. Now the baronies of Upper and Lower Lecale in County Down. =Moy Linny= [_Magh Line_]. Chiefly in the barony of Upper Antrim, County Antrim. =Moy Mweerhevna= [_Magh Muirthemne_]. The level plain in the north of County Louth. =Moy-na-darriv= [_Magh-na-d-tarbh_]. The plain of the bulls. =Moy Thooaga= [_Mag Tuaga_]. Somewhere in Connaught. =Moy Traega= [_Mag Trega_]. The level country in the barony and county of Longford. =Moy Twirra= [_Mag Tuireadh_]. Near Lough Arrow in the barony of Tirerrill, County Sligo. See F.M., A.M. 3330, note s. =Moy Wee= [_Mag Ái_, _Mag Aei_]. The plain in County Roscommon on which Rath Coohan was situated. It extended from Ballymoe to Elphin, and from Bellanagare to Strokestown. =Munster= [_Muma_]. =Murrisc= [_Muiresc_]. The barony of Murrisk in County Mayo. =Nemud= [_Nemud_]. Somewhere in Slieve Foo-id. It may be the same place as the _nemed_ in Trip. Life, p. 240. =Nith= [_Nith_]. The ancient name of the river of Ardee. See F.M., A.M. 4169, note. Now called the Dee. =Ohawn= [_Ochun_, _Ochuind_]. This seems likely to be the _Ochonn_ of Meath, where Niall of the Nine Hostages was buried. (See Rev. Celt. xv, p. 295.) I don’t know whether it has been identified. =Ollbinni= [_Ollbine_, _Ailbine_. T.E. § 46]. The river Delvin, which falls into the sea at Gormanstown a little north of Balbriggan. See Reeves, Col., p. 108, note d. =Ooanub= [_Uanabh_, _Uanuib_]. Is this the White River between the baronies of Ferrard and Ardee in County Louth? =Oorawn Garad= [_Uarán Garad_]. In O’Donovan’s map of Hy Many this is marked due south of Croohan. Our old literature contains some singularly charming references to this well. =Orkill= [_Oircel_, _Orcel_]. Now Forkill; the valley of the Forkill river, west of Slieve Gullion in County Armagh. =Oughter Netmon= [_Ouchter Nedmon_]. Somewhere a little to the north of Drum Bray. =Partry= [_Partraigi_]. Does this name still survive a little to the south-west of Kells? =Pass of Awny= [_Belach náne_, L.U. 63ᵇ7]. _Belach_ being a neuter noun, I take the following _n_ to be “transported.” Not identified so far as I know. =Poopal Vaeva= [_Pupall Medba_]. “Maev’s tent.” =Raeda Lōha= [_Réde Loche_]. See under Cooley. =Rath Aerheer= [_Ráith Airthir_]. “The Eastern Fort.” There was a _Ráith Airthir_ close to Taltin (See Trip. Life, p. 70), but this was not in Farney, of which Owen was king. =Rath Immil.= See “Loch Laery.” =Rathlin= [_Rachriu_]. A large island off the northern coast of Antrim. An old name for it was _Inis Cuilinn_. =Rath-na-darriv= [_Ráith na dtarbh_]. “The rath of the bulls.” =Reedonn= [_Rígdond_]. Is this the same place as that in which St. Patrick afterwards founded his church of _Domnach Rígduind_, “The church, or cathedral, of Rígdond”? _Domnach Rígduind_ was in the south of County Derry, between Slieve Gullion and Loch Neagh. See Trip. Life, p. 169, and Reeves, p. 294. At Y.B.L. 47ᵇ45, the place whence Rohee came is called _Brig dumae_. =Rind= [_Rind_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Road of Assal= [_Slighe Asail_]. One of the great high roads of ancient Ireland. It ran from Tara westwards, at least as far as _Tig Lommain_ (now Portloman) on the western shore of Lough Owel, in Westmeath. See L.U. 6ᵃ31-33. =Road of Meedlougher= [_Slighe Midhluachra_]. One of the great high roads of ancient Ireland. It ran northward from Tara; and from various passages in the literature (especially Y.B.L. 53ᵃ26) we are able to gather that it went through the western part of Cooley—perhaps through the Moyry Pass—and so past Newry into Moy Cova. =Sawss= [_Sás_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Saxon land= [_Saxain_]. England. But the Saxons had not come to Britain at the time when the _Táin_ took place. The first mention of Saxons in F.M. is under the year 683 A.D. =Sayer= [_Saighir_]. Now Seir-kieran, about six miles to the east of Parsonstown, in the King’s County. =Scythia.= See Appendix E. =Seel= [_Síl_]. Somewhere in Lecale, in County Down. =Shannon= [_Sionainn_]. The river Shannon. =Slahta= [_Slechta_]. To the south-west of Kells. Does the name survive? =Slane= [_Sláne_]. The town of Slane, on the Boyne. =Slane of Meath= [_Slemain Mide_]. “Now divided into Slanebeg and Slanemore, two townlands in the parish of Dysart, County Westmeath.” An. Ulster i., p. 33, note. An adjoining townland is called Slanestown. This district is about three miles to the west of Mullingar. =Slawnga= [_Slánge_]. The ancient name of Slieve Donard, the highest of the Mourne Mountains. =Slieve Bawne= [_Badbgna_]. “A mountainous territory extending from Lanesborough to Rooskey, on the west side of the Shannon, in the County of Roscommon.” F.M. 678, note. =Slieve Bray= [_Slíab Breg_]. See “Drum Bray.” =Slieve Fauhan= [_isin tsléib tuath ochaíne_, L.U. 67ᵃ15]. See under “Cooley.” =Slieve Findabair= [_Findabair Slebe_]. There were many places named Findabair. I cannot identify this one. The name is usually anglicised Fennor. =Slieve Foo-id= [_Slíab Fúait_]. This name seems to have been applied vaguely to almost all the mountainous country west and north-west of Slieve Gullion, in the southern half of County Armagh. One could make a long list of names of places which in our old literature were said to be “in Slieve Foo-id.” =Slieve Gullion= [_Sliab Culind_]. A striking mountain in the barony of Upper Orior, County Armagh. See under “Cooley.” =Slieve Mourne= [_Sliab Moduirn_]. A country of low hills in the southern part of the barony of Cremourne, County Monaghan. Finncarn, “the white cairn,” must have been on a height which commanded a wide view towards the south. =Spain= [_Espain_]. =Suir= [_Siúir_]. The river which forms the northern boundary of County Waterford. =Tahg= [_Tadg_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Taltin= [_Taltiu_; dat. _Tailtin_]. Now Teltown, on the Blackwater between Kells and Navan. A very famous place in ancient Erin. =Tamlaht Orlam= [_oc Tamlactain órláib_, L.L. 68ᵃ28]. Said in L.L. to be to the north of _Disert Lochad_, but where was this? _Tamlachta_ means a plague-grave. Near Drumshallon, to the west, there is a townland called _Kiltallaght_. Was this the place? =Tara= [_Temair_]. The ancient capital of Ireland. In the barony of Screen, County Meath. =Tara in the Ards.= See “Ards of Ulster.” =Tara of Cooley.= See under “Cooley.” =Teffia= [_Tethba_]. North and south Teffia were large territories, the boundaries of which doubtless varied at different periods. In early times the river Inny, which flows into Lough Ree, divided north Teffia from south Teffia. See B.R., p. 11. =Telamet= [_Telaméit_]. One of Cucullin’s rivers of healing. Not identified. =Thromma= [_Tromma_]. A river evidently flowing into the Boyne close to Slane. In F.M. 512 there is mention of a _Sidh Truim_ close to Slane. The names are probably connected. Sidh Truim is also mentioned L.U. 47ᵃ33. =Toom Mona= [_Tóm Mona_, _Tuaim Mona_]. Now Toomona, two or three miles south of Rath Croohan. See the interesting note, F.M. 1488, note _a_. =Tyrrhene Sea= [_Muir Toirrian_]. See Appendix E. =Ulster= [_Ulaid_]. The boundary of ancient Ulster extended from the estuary of the Boyne to the river Drowes, which flows from Lough Melvin into Donegal Bay. In the Táin, however, _Ulaid_ is occasionally used in a more restricted sense, and seems to apply only to the north-eastern corner of Ireland, Antrim and Down and Armagh. =Wave of Cleena= [_Tond Chlidna_]. In Glandore Harbour, County Cork. See the very interesting note by O’Donovan, F.M. 1557. =Wave of Rury= [_Tond Rudraige_]. In the Bay of Dundrum, County Down. This place was also called _Inbhear n-Gaoth_, “the River-mouth of Winds.” See I.T.S. v. 168. =Wave of Thooig Inver= [_Tond Tuage Inbir_]. At the mouth of the Bann, in County Derry. APPENDIX C NAMES OF PERSONS, TRIBES, AND ANIMALS OCCURRING IN THE VERSE. Three =Abrat-rooas= [_Trí Abrat-rúaid_]. =Aen=, charioteer of Conall Carna [_Oen_]. =Aen=, son of Mahga [_Én mac Magach_]. =Aerrga Ecbael= [_Errge Echbél_]. =Ăl´-yill= [_Ailill_]. =Angus= [_Oengus_]. =An´-looan= [_Anlúan_]. =Annly= [_Ainnle_]. =Ar-dawn´= [_Ardán_]. =Av´-ver-guin= [_Amargin_]. =Awley= [_Amhalgaidh_]. =Baefinn= [_Befind_]. =Bahlor= [_Balor_]. =Bas= [_Bas_]. =Bashny= [_Baiscne_]. =Baskell= [_Bascell_]. =Blai= [_Blai_]. =Blawth= [_Bláth_]. =Bled= [_Bled_]. =Blod= [_Blod_]. =Bō´-guin-ă= [_Bogaine_]. =Boi= [_Bude_]. =Borrig= [_Borrach_; gen. _Borraig_]. =Bove= [_Bodb_]. =Boyne= [_Boand_]. =Brendan= [_Brenainn_]. =Bress= [_Bress_]. =Brian= [_Brian_]. =Brigit= [_Brigit_]. =Broo´-ă-her= [_Brúachar_]. =Bwinn´-ye= [_Buinne_]. =Caillin= [_Caillin_]. =Căl´-a-teen= [_Calatín_]. =Carpry neea Faer= [_Carpre Nia fer_]. Four =Casses= [_Cethri Caiss_]. =Cathbad= [_Cathbath_, _Cathbad_]. =Catt= [_Catt_]. =Caur= [_Caur_]. Three =Cauriths= [_Trí Caurith_]. =Clothra= [_Clothra_]. Five =Coffys= [_cóic Cobthaig_]. =Collac= [_Collach_]. =Colum-killé= [_Columb-cille_]. Three =Com´-beergas= [_trí Combirgi_]. =Conall Carna= [_Conall Cernach_]. =Conmac= [_Conmac_]. =Conn= [_Conn_]. Eight =Connlas= [_Ochtar Conlai_]. =Connra Cae= [_Connra Caech_]. =Connud= [_Connud_]. =Conor the son of Fahtna Fahee son of Ross the Red-haired son of Rury= [_Conchobar mac Ḟachtna Ḟathaig meic Rossa Ruaid meic Rudraigi_]. =Cooar= [_Cuar_]. =Coor son of Daw-loath´= [_Cúr mac Da Lóth_]. =Cooroi son of Dawra= [_Cúrúi mac Daire_]. =Cooscree Mend Maha= [_Cuscraid Mend Macha_]. =Corc= [_Corc_]. =Cormac Con-ling´-ish= [_Cormac Condloinges_]. =Cotreb= [_Cotreb_]. =Crin´niuc= [_Cruinniucc_]. Three =Cromms= [_trí Cruim_]. Two =Croo´-ees= [_dá Chrúaid_]. =Crunniuc the son of Agnoman= [_Crunniuc mac Agnoman_]. =Cruthen= [_Cruthen_]. =Cullan= [_Culand_]. =Cu-cullin= [_Cúchulaind_]. =Daerbra= [_Derbriu_]. =Daerdra= [_Derdriu_]. The =Dagda= [_In Dagda_]. Nine =Dahmahs= [_nói n-Dámaig_]. Nine =Daigiths= [_nói n-Daigith_]. =Dawra son of Feeacna= [_Dára mac Fiachnai_]. =Dawthy= [_Dathí_]. =Dec´-tor-a= [_Dechtíre_]. Ten =Delbaes= [_deich n-Delbaith_]. =Dess= [_Dess_: explained in a gloss to mean _Dia_, “God.”] =Dōha son of Mahga= [_Dóche mac Magach_]. =Domnall= [_Domnall_]. =Donn of Cooley= [_Dond Cualnge_]. Six =Dooahs= [_sé Duaich_]. =Doo Sanglenn= [_Dubh Sainglend_]. =Dorndoll= [_Dorndoll_]. =Duffa Dael= [_Dubthach Dóel_]. Six =Dungalls= [_Sé Dungail_]. Two =Eckells= [_Dá Éicell_]. =Ecket= [_Ecet_]. =Edarcool son of Feda and Leth´-rinny= [_Etarcumul mac Feda ocus Lethrnini_]. =Ella= [_Éle_]. =Emer= [_Emer_]. =Erc= [_Ercc_]. =Err= [_Err_]. =Esorb= [_Esorb_]. =Ethna= [_Ethne_]. =Etty= [_Eitte_]. =Faebur= [_Faebur_]. =Faer´-a-dah= [_Feradach_]. =Faer-bay´ son of Baet´-an= [_Fer báeth mac Baetain_]. =Faer-bay´ son of Faer-bend´= [_Fer báeth mac Fir bend_]. =Faer-daet´ son of Dăm´-an= [_Fer dét mac Damáin_]. =Faer-dee´-ah son of Dăm-an= [_Fer diad mac Damáin_]. =Faer-lō-ga= [_Fer loga_]. =Fann´-la= [_Faindle_]. =Faylim= [_Feidlimid_]. =Faylimy= [_Feidlimid_]. =Fedelm= [_Feidelm_]. =Fed´-il-mid= [_Fedlimid_, _Feidilmid_]. Ten =Fee´-acs= [_Deich Féic_]. =Fee´-ac-na= [_Fiachna_]. =Fee´-a-ha= [_Fiacha_]. =Fee´-al= [_Fíal_]. =Fehan= [_Fethan_]. =Fergus son of Leddy= [_Fergus mac Leti_]. =Fergus the son of Roy the son of Yōhee Lenny= [_Fergus mac Roeich meic Echdach Lenni_]. =Findabair= [_Findabair_]. =Find-benn´-a= [_Findbennach_]. =Findian= [_Finnén_]. =Fĭnd-more´= [_Find mór_]. =Finguin= [_Fingin_]. =Finn the son of Ross the Red= [_Find mac Rosa Ruaid_]. =Finn´-caem= [_Findcoem_]. =Finn-ha Faer-bend´= [_Findchad Fer bend_]. =Fintan= [_Fintan_]. =Fohair= [_Feochair_]. =Fohnam= [_Fochnam_]. =Foill= [_Fóill_]. =Foll-oon´= [_Follomain_]. =Foorbee Faer benn= [_Furbaide Fer bend_] =Forgall Mona= [_Forgall Monach_]. Four =Fotas= [_Cethri Fotai_]. =Frae the son of Eedath= [_Froech mac Idaith_]. Four =Furacars= [_Cethri Furachair_]. =Germanus= [_German_]. =Glass the son of Delga= [_Glass mac Delga_]. =Ibbur= [_Iubar_]. =Illann Finn= [_Illann Find_]. =Ill´-i-ah= [_Iliach_]. =Imha= [_Imchad_]. =Inguen= [_Ingen_]. =Inn´-yel= [_Innell_]. =Ivor= [_Ibar_]. Two =Kahlas= [_Da Chaladh_]. =Keear= [_Cíar_]. =Keen´-bĭlĭ= [_Cáinbili_]. Two =Keers= [_Dá Chír_]. =Kĕ´-hern= [_Cethern_]. =Keltar the son of Oo´-hĭder= [_Celtchar mac Uthecair_]. Five =Kermans= [_Cóic Cermain_]. =Ket the son of Mahga= [_Cet mac Magach_]. =Kieran= [_Ciaran_]. =Laeg son of Ree-angowra= [_Lóeg mac Riangabra_]. =Laer´-ĭny= [_Lairine_]. =Laery= [_Lóegaire_]. =Lath Gobla= [_Lath Gaiblie_]. =Lath son of Daw-brō´= [_Lath mac Da Bro_]. =Lawry Ling-sha= [_Labhraidh Loingseach_]. =Leddi= [_Leiti_]. =Leea Maha= [_Liath Macha_]. =Lewy son of Nōs son of Alamac= [_Lugaid mac Nois mac Alamaic_]. =Lewy son of Solmoy= [_Lugaid mac Solamaig_]. =Lō´-har= [_Lóthar_]. =Lōk son of Emonis= [_Lóch mac Emonis_, L.U. 74ᵇ9]. =Long= [_Long_]. =Loo son of Ethlenn= [_Lug mac Ethlend_]. =Looan= [_Lúan_]. =Looath= [_Luath_]. Two =Looees= [_Da Lui_]. =Low´-er-cam= [_Leborcham_]. Three =Lussens= [_Trí Lussin_]. =Mac Roth= [_Mac Roth_]. =Maccorb= [_Maccorb_]. =Maellia= [_Meille_]. =Maev= [_Medb_]. =Maha daughter of Sanrith son of Imba= [_Macha ingen Sainrith mac Imbaith_, L.L. 126ᵃ13]. =Mahn´-ya Ath-roo´-il= [_Mane Athremail_]. =Mahn´-ya Con´-da-gau Illy= [_Mane Condagaib uile_]. =Mahn´-ya Math-roo´-il= [_Mane Mathremail_]. =Mahn´-ya Mō-aepert= [_Mane Moepert_]. =Mahn´-ya Meen´-gar= [_Mane Mingor_]. =Mahn´-ya More´-gar= [_Mane Mórgor_]. =Mahn´-ya Toi= [_Mane Tái_]. =Manannawn= [_Mannanán_]. =Marc= [_Marc_]. =Mar-vawn´= [_Marbhan_]. =Mawta Murrisc= [_Máta Murisc_]. =Mend son of Sal-colg´-an= [_Mend mac Salcholgan_]. =Mess Lahan= [_Meslethan_]. =Mess Leea= [_Mesláighe_]. =Mess Linny= [_Meslinni_]. =Mil= [_Mil_]. =Milhy= [_Muilchi_]. =Moo´-gawn= [_Mugain_]. The =More-reega daughter of Ernmas= [_In Mórrígu ingen Ernmais_]. =Mu-gar´-ny= [_Mugairne_]. Eight =Mullahs= [_Ocht Mulaig_]. =Munn-row´-er son of Guerkind= [_Munremur mac Gerrcind_]. =Mur´-i-dah= [_Muridach_]. =Nahta Scaena= [_Nechta Scene_]. =Nath-corp´-a= [_Nathcoirpthe_, L.U. 70ᵃ12]. =Nath-crant´-il= [_Nathcrantail_]. =Neesha= [_Nóisi_]. =Ōkill= [_Ochall_; gen. _Ochaill_]. =Oo´-a-ha= [_Uathach_]. =Oo´-al= [_Ual_]. Seven =Oo-arguses= [_secht nuárgusa_, L.U. 75ᵃ5]. =Oola= [_Uala_]. =Orlam= [_Orlám_; _Orláb_]. =Owen= [_Eogain_]. =Patrick= [_Patraic_]. =Raen= [_Ró-en_]. =Renc= [See L.L. 58ᵇ4. I think I ought to have read this word _rechtaire_, “steward,” as Dr. Windisch does. I took it to be an abbreviation for the name of the mother of Err and Innel, and made her _Renc_]. =Riccny= [_Ruiccni_]. =Rind= [_Rind_]. Eight =Rindahs= [_Ocht Rindaich_]. =Rinn= [_Rinn_]. Seven =Rohas= [_Secht Rochaid_]. =Rōhee son of Fa´-ha-win= [_Reochaid mac Fathemain_]. Eight =Rohties= [_Ocht Rochtaid_]. =Roncu= [_Roncu_]. Seven =Ronawns= [_Secht Ronáin_]. =Rooad= [_Ruad_]. =Root= [_Rucht_]. =Ross the son of Feeacna= [_Ros mac Fiacna_]. =Roy= [_Rói_]. Seven =Ruras= [_Secht Rurthig_]. Six =Saxans= [_Sé Saxain_]. =Scandall son of Mahga= [_Scandal mac Magach_]. =Scaw= [_Scath_]. =Scawtha daughter of Aird´-gămă= [_Scathach ingen Airdgeme_, cf. Y.B.L. 214ᵃ4]. =Setanta= [_Setanta_]. =Sheen= [_Sin_]. =Shenca= [_Sencha_]. =Shen´-cawn= [_Senchan_]. =Shennel Oo-aha= [_Senal Uathach_]. =Skeeath= [_Sciath_]. =Skibbur= [_Sciuhar_]. =Soda= [_Soda_]. =Soo´-al-tim= [_Sualtaim_]. =Sreb-loo´-ah= [_Srebluath_]. =Srub Dawra son of Fedaig= [_Srub dare mac Fedaig_]. =Tethra= [gen. _Tetrach_]. =Thoo´-a-ha Dae Danann= [_Túatha Dé Danann_]. =Tin´-niuc= [_Tinniuc_]. =Tinny son of Conrig Cass= [_Tinndi mac Conrach Cais_]. =Toohal son of Nahta= [_Tuachall mac Nechtain_]. =Trescath= [_Trescad_]. =Triath= [_Triath_]. =Ultonians= [_Ulaid_]. =Ul´-becawn= [_Ulbecan_]. =Weefa= [_Aiffe_]. =Yōhee Bec= [_Eochaid Bec_]. =Yōhee Fayla= [_Eochaid Feidlech_]. APPENDIX D THE PRINCIPAL SOURCES FROM WHICH THE NARRATIVE HAS BEEN DRAWN THE FINDING OF THE TÁIN 1. _Do fallsigud tána bó cualṅge_, “The revealing of the Táin bo Cualṅge.” L.L. 245ᵇ3-42. 2. _Imtheacht na Tromdháime, Ina bh-foillsighthear cionas do fuaras an Táin ar tús_, 7c. “The journeying of the burdensome learned men, in which it is revealed how the Táin was first found,” &c. Oss. vol. v. 3. The version of the Revealing of the Táin in Egerton 1782, fol. 87ᵇ. Printed in Archiv. iii. 3. 4. The version of the Revealing of the Táin, MS. D. 4. 2 (R.I.A.) fol. 49ᵇ2. Printed in Archiv. iii. 4. [These four versions differ very much from each other.] 5. “Lives of the Saints from the Book of Lismore,” edited by Dr. Whitley Stokes, Oxford, 1890. 6. “Life of St. Kieran of Saighir.” Silv. Gad. BOOK I 1. T.B.C.; L.L. 2. _De chophur in da muccide_, “of the Generation (?) of the two Swineherds.” L.L. 246ᵃ-247ᵃ. Also the Egerton Text, edited by Windisch, I.T., Dritte Serie, 1 Heft. 3. _Ferchuitred Medba._ “Maev’s Three Husbands,” Rawlinson MS. B 512. [I made a transcript of this in the Bodleian several years ago.] 4. _Cath Boinde._ “The Battle of the Boyne,” Book of Lecan, 351ᵇ-353ᵃ, a text almost identical with _Ferchuitred Medba_. It has been edited by Mr. Joseph O’Neill, in _Ériu_ ii. 173. In causing the Druid to give the account of the transmigrations of the swine-herds, and in causing Maev to be the narrator of her own youthful history, I merely adopt the characteristic Gaelic device for introducing episodes from the past, the same device which is used in the texts of the Táin itself, where the three distinguished exiles from Ulster are made to relate the boyish exploits of Cucullin. BOOK II 1. _Cid dia mboi loṅges mac nUsnig._ “What caused the exile of the Sons of Usna?” L.L. 259ᵇ-261ᵇ. This text has been edited by Dr. Windisch, I.T., first series. 2. _Oided mac nUisnig._ “The Tragic Deaths of the Sons of Usna,” edited by Dr. Stokes, I.T., Zweite serie, 2 Heft. 3. _Déirdre_, edited by Dr. Douglas Hyde from a manuscript in the Belfast Museum, Zeitschrift für Celtische Philologie, vol. ii. 4. _The Glenmasan Manuscript_, Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh. This MS. is invaluable for the account which it gives of the events that occurred between the deaths of the sons of Usna and the opening of the Táin. Some years ago I began to make a copy of it; but I was happily saved from continuing this difficult labour by its gradual appearance, edited by Professor Mackinnon, in the _Celtic Review_. 5. _Caithréim Conghail Cláiringnig_, “Martial Career of Conghal Cláiringhneach,” edited by P. M. MacSweeney, M.A., I.T.S., vol. v. This tells us also of the “martial career” of Fergus in the days before the exile of the Sons of Usna. It is necessary to know the story of the children of Usna in order to understand the position of Fergus in the Táin. In supposing Lowercam to be exiled in Connaught, and in making her the narrator of the story, I again merely adopt the characteristic Gaelic device. BOOK III 1. T.B.C.; L.L. 2. T.B.C.; L.U. 3. _Cóir Anmann_, “Fitness of Names,” edited by Dr. Whitley Stokes, I.T., Dritte Serie, 2 Heft. 4. _Ferchuitred Medba_ and _Cath Boinde_, as in Book I. 5. _Táin bo Fraech_, “The Driving of the Kine of Frae,” L.L. 248ᵃ-252ᵇ. 6. _Noinden Ulad cid di-atá_, “What was the origin of the ‘noinden’ of Ulster?” L.L. 125ᵇ-126ᵃ. In making the Druid the narrator of this tale I again, as in Books I and II, adopt the Gaelic method. A knowledge of the tale is essential to the proper understanding of the _Táin_. BOOK IV 1. T.B.C.; L.U. 2. T.B.C.; L.L. The description of the making of Maev’s camp was suggested by a passage in _Cath Mhuighe Léana_, “The Battle of Magh Léana”; and the account of the harpers and their music was suggested by _Táin bo Fraech_. BOOK V 1. T.B.C; L.L. 2. T.B.C.; L.U. BOOKS VI AND VII (See Appendix E.) BOOK VIII 1. T.B.C; L.L. 2. T.B.C; L.U. The account of “Laeg’s one combat on the Táin” was taken from the MS. marked H. 2. 17 in Trinity College, Dublin. The account of Cucullin’s meeting with the More-reega is from the _Táin bo Regamna_, edited by Dr. Windisch, I.T., Zweite Serie, 2 Heft. BOOK IX 1. T.B.C.; L.L. 2. T.B.C.; L.U. BOOK X 1. T.B.C.; L.L. 2. T.B.C.; L.U. I took the account of the combat of Laeriny from the MS. marked Addendum 18748 in the British Museum. The same narrative from Egerton 93 is printed by Nettlau, Rev. Celt. xiv, 261. BOOK XI 1. T.B.C.; L.L. 2. T.B.C.; L.U. For the account given of himself by Loo the son of Ethlenn see “The Second Battle of Moytura,” edited by Dr. Whitley Stokes, Rev. Celt. xii; and for the substance of Maev’s speech to Fergus, see the Glenmasan MS. BOOK XII 1. T.B.C.; L.L. 2. T.B.C.; L.U. 3. “The Ferdiad Episode in the Táin Bo Cuailnge,” by Nettlau, Rev. Celt. x and xi. BOOK XIII 1. T.B.C.; L.L. 2. T.B.C.; L.U. 3. T.B.C.; Y.B.L. For the description of Cooroi see the passage in _Fled Bricrend_, L.U. 110ᵇ44-111ᵃ3. For _Taltin_, see passage in _Senchas na relec_, “History of the Cemeteries,” L.U. 51ᵇ1; also L.U. 38ᵇ34. For _Brigit_, see _Corm_, _s.v._ _Brigit_; also Rennes, section 159; also L.L. 170ᵇ55 and L.L. 187ᶜ55. BOOK XIV 1. T.B.C.; L.L. 2. T.B.C.; Y.B.L. BOOK XV 1. T.B.C.; L.L. 2. T.B.C.; Y.B.L. For the Battle-castles see Windisch, _Táin_, pp. 785-803, where a long extract from the Stowe MS. is given. For the idea of Maev’s going three times round the hosts see a passage in “The Battle of Magh Rath.” For the substance of Maev’s first speech to Fergus see the above-mentioned extract from the Stowe MS., also the Glenmasan MS., &c. For the Three Waves see C.R.R. For the comparison of Cucullin to St. Columcille see the “Life of Colum cille,” edited by Dr. Henebry. For the sword of Cucullin see the “Decision as to Cormac’s sword,” edited by Dr. Whitley Stokes, I.T. Dritte Serie, 1 Heft. For the cry of the striplings see Rennes, section 120. For Conor’s gloom and depression see opening of C.R.R. For the wedding of Emer, see close of T.E. For the death of Cucullin (only alluded to here, since it does not come within the scope of the narrative) see the text abridged from L.L. by Dr. Whitley Stokes, Rev. Celt. iii, 175. THE WRITING OF THE TÁIN 1. The same materials as in “The Finding of the Táin.” 2. _Senchas na relec_, “History of the Cemeteries,” L.U. 50ᵇ-52ᵃ. 3. _Aided Nathi ocus a adnacol_, “The Violent Death and the Burial of Dathi,” L.U. 38. 4. “Christian Inscriptions in the Irish Language,” edited by Petrie. 5. “Life of Colum cille,” edited by Dr. Henebry. APPENDIX E NOTES ON BOOKS VI AND VII It is necessary to know the story of Cucullin’s training to arms, in order that we may understand his relationship to his fellow-pupils in Books X and XII. Most writers who in recent times have touched upon this story have assumed that the place of his training was the Isle of Skye, in Scotland. The treatment of the subject which I present in Book VII will, therefore, be regarded by some readers as a new departure, and one which requires justification. The story of his training is found in two quite different versions. One version forms a part of the _Tochmarc Emire_ [T.E.], “The Wooing of Emer.” An account of the various MSS. in which the _Tochmarc Emire_ has come down to us is given to us by Dr. Kuno Meyer, Rev. Celt., vol. xi. I have used chiefly the Harleian text, printed by Dr. Meyer in the _Zeitschrift für Celtische Philologie_, vol. iii. The other version of his training is found in the _Foghlaimh Conchulaind_ [F.C.], “The Education of Cucullin,” a tract which, so far as I know, has not yet been edited. I have worked from a copy which is in the R.I.A. This version exists now only in rather modern MSS.; but its substance is ancient. It represents the version of Cucullin’s training which is presupposed both in the L.L. and L.U. recensions of the Táin; it is the version which tells of the solemn binding together of her pupils by their teacher, Scawtha. Now, in F.C. Cucullin is trained, not in Skye, but in the east of Europe—in Scythia, and in “Great Greece” [_san nGréig mhóir_]. Scythia was a vague term for a region extending from what is now Hungary, eastward, far into Asia. In Ptolemy Scythia is made to cover a vast expanse. The name occurs frequently in our old Irish literature. “Great Greece,” I think, was an equally vague term for the countries in which Greek was spoken, and which bordered on Scythia. It is to be remembered that at the time of the Táin the Celts were found over a great part of central Europe, and probably in “Scythia”; and they still spoke their own language. That there should have been frequent intercourse between them and the Celts of Ireland, and that our young nobles should have gone from Ireland to get a warlike training amongst the Celts of the Continent, is only what we might have expected. Compare various passages in Professor Bury’s “Life of St. Patrick,” concerning the frequency of intercourse in early times between Ireland and the continent of Europe. The tradition of this intercourse has never died out in Irish literature. In T.E., which contains the first-named version of Cucullin’s training, if we look closely into it, we find the same continental tradition. Owing to their close likeness, it was very easy to confuse the Gaelic words for Scotland and for the Alps. I believe that the _Alpi_ of T.E. means the Alps. The land of Scawtha was _fri Alpi allaanoir_, “eastward from Alpi.” That would not answer to the position of Skye with regard to Scotland; but it would answer very well to the position of Scythia with regard to the Alps. In the text of the Táin itself we have references to Cucullin’s training in the East. One of these is at L.L. 69ᵃ6, where he is said to have gone to the mountains of Armenia, and also to have brought slaughter amongst the _Cichloiste_ (read _-loiscthe_). _Cichloiscthe_ is the Irish word for Amazons. It occurs in Middle-Irish translations from the classics, and it means “Burnt-breasts.” The classical “myths” concerning the Amazons, and the apparently quite independent Irish tradition of warrior-women in Scythia and “Great Greece,” are interesting in relation to each other. Why should we suppose that such warrior-women did not really exist? Other references in the text of the Táin are in the Germanus poem, L.L. 88ᵃ4-88ᵇ24. At Y.B.L. 37ᵇ51-2 we are told that the fortress of Germanus was above the edge-borders of the _Muir Toirrian_, which, following Dr. Stokes and others, I have rendered by “the Tyrrhene Sea.” But the _Muir Toirrian_ really meant the whole Mediterranean. (Compare L.L. 3ᵃ23-28, where Bráth, starting from somewhere in the East, sails along the length of the _Muir Toirrian_ to Crete and Sicily, and finally to Spain.) As to the whereabouts of _Lind Format_ I can offer no suggestion. In the _Isles of the Athisech_ we might suspect an allusion to Athens; but it seems doubtful whether the _n_ would have disappeared. Did the later statements that Scawtha lived in the Isle of Skye arise from a double confusion between the Irish words for Skye and for Scythia on the one hand, and for Scotland and for the Alps on the other hand? Or was there really an early and independent Scotland-tradition? Perhaps some Scottish Gael will work out the subject. The sources for Books VI and VII, besides the texts mentioned above, are the L.L. text of the Táin, and “The Fer Diad episode of the Táin Bó Cuailnge,” by Dr. M. Nettlau, in Rev. Celt. x. and xi. I have chosen Faerdeeah as the teller of this tale in order that he may become known to us as the friend of Cucullin. From the artistic point of view the great defect in the account of the combat between Cucullin and Faerdeeah, as it occurs in both the recensions of the Táin, is that in one of the pair of combatants we have no previous interest. I had completed the writing of Books VI and VII, and prepared my notes on them, before I had the gratification of seeing that on the question of the geography implied in T.E., Dr. Windisch is in agreement with me. See his _Táin_, pp. 436-437. Dr. Whitley Stokes allows me to have the great pleasure of saying that he hopes some day to give us an edition of the _Foghlaimh Conchulaind_. ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE APPENDICES =Ac. na Sen.= _Acallamh na Senórach_, edited by Dr. Whitley Stokes. Irische Texte, Vierte Serie, 1 Heft. =An. Ulster.= _Annals of Ulster_, edited by W. M. Hennessy. =Archiv.= _Archiv für Celtische Lexicographie_, herausgegeben von Whitley Stokes und Kuno Meyer. =B.R.= _Book of Rights_, edited by O’Donovan, 1847. =Corm.= _Cormac’s Glossary_, edited by Dr. Whitley Stokes. Calcutta, 1868. =C.R.R.= _Cath Ruis na Ríg for Bóinn_, edited for the Royal Irish Academy by Edmund Hogan, S.J. Dublin, 1892. =F.C.= _Foghlaimh Conchulaind._ =F.M.= _The Annals of the Kingdom of Ireland by the Four Masters_, edited by O’Donovan. =Fél.= _The Calendar of Oengus_, edited by Dr. Whitley Stokes, 1880. =G. and G.= _The War of the Gaedhil with the Gaill_, edited by James Henthorne Todd, D.D. 1867. =I.T.= _Irische Texte_, edited by Stokes and Windisch. =I.T.S.= _Irish Texts Society._ =Laws= _Ancient Laws of Ireland._ =Lib. Hym.= _The Irish Liber Hymnorum_, edited for the Henry Bradshaw Society by Drs. Bernard and Atkinson. =L.L.= The lithographic facsimile of the Book of Leinster, published by the Royal Irish Academy in 1880. =L.U.= The lithographic facsimile of the _Leabhar na h-Uidhri_, published by the Royal Irish Academy in 1870. =M. and C.= _Manners and Customs of the Ancient Irish_, by Eugene O’Curry. 1873. =O’Brien.= _O’Brien’s Irish-English Dictionary._ Dublin, 1832. =O’Lav.= _An Historical Account of the Diocese of Down and Connor_, by the Rev. James O’Laverty. Dublin, 1878. =Oss.= Transactions of the Ossianic Society. Dublin, 1854-1861. =Reeves.= _Ecclesiastical Antiquities of Down, Connor, and Dromore_, by the Rev. William Reeves. 1847. =Reeves, Col.= Adamnan’s _Life of St. Columba_, edited by William Reeves, D.D. 1857. =Rennes.= “The Prose Tales of the Rennes Dinsenchas,” edited by Dr. Whitley Stokes. _Revue Celtique_, vols. xv. and xvi. =R.I.A.= Royal Irish Academy. =Rev. Celt.= _Revue Celtique._ =Silv. Gad.= _Silva Gadelica_, by S. H. O’Grady. 1892. =Soc. Hist.= _A Social History of Ancient Ireland_, by P. W. Joyce. 1903. =T.B.C.= Text of the _Táin Bó Cúalnge_. =T.E.= _Tochmarc Emire la Coinculaind_, edited by Dr. Kuno Meyer. _Zeitschrift für Celtische Philologie_, vol. iii. =Trip. Life.= _The Tripartite Life of St. Patrick_, edited by Dr. Whitley Stokes. 1887. =Windisch, Táin.= The _Táin Bó Cualnge_, edited, with German translation, by Dr. Windisch. Leipzig, 1905. =Y.B.L.= Photographic facsimile of the Yellow Book of Lecan, published by the Royal Irish Academy, 1896. =Zimmer, K.S.= Zimmer, _Keltische Studien_. *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TÁIN *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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