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