Summoned the chiefs and warriors and brave men;
And they stood round her, leaning on their spears,
Holding a council. And Maev said to them:
“Unless we find a man to overcome
This dread Cucullin, now my heart will break.”
Then they all said that there was but one man
Fitted to meet Cucullin at the ford—
Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra,
The mighty warrior of the men of Domnann
From Irrus Domnann in the storm-beat west;
For like and equal were their modes of fight:
They by one teacher had been taught and trained,
Namely, by Scawtha; so that neither owned
Advantage o’er the other, save that only
Cucullin owned the art of the Gae Bulg.
But then, as was well known, Faerdeeah owned
A conganess, a tough protecting armour,
The gift of Scawtha ere he left her land;
And no edged weapons easily could pierce it.
Then there were sent envoys and messengers
To bring Faerdeeah straightway; but Faerdeeah
Denied, declined, refused those messengers,
And came not with them; for full well he knew
The thing that brought them there,—to make him fight
In fierce encounter with his own dear friend,
His loved companion and brother-in-arms, Cucullin.
And Maev dispatched her skilful slanderers,
And men of irony and calumny,
And bade them speak their dangerous lampoons
And hot, cheek-reddening satire and invective,
To raise three shameful blisters on his face—
Reproach, Disgrace, and Contumely—that so,
If he died not immediately, at least
He might be dead ere nine days should be past,
Unless he came with them.
Faerdeeah then
Came to confer with Maev; for he desired
To fall in battle-glory, not by shafts
Of coward ridicule. And he resolved
To offer every other battle-service,
But not to combat with his own dear friend.
The hour that Maev and Al-yill saw him come
They laughed a full loud laugh of triumph. Then
With honour and attendance they received him,
And brought him to the feast. And Findabair,
Obedient to her mother, brimmed his cup
With wine from Gaul, and gave him with each cup
Three kisses, tenderly and fervently;
And carried to him, folded in her layna,
Red, well-stored apples; and she laid them down,
And bade him eat, and said that he indeed
Of all the men in Erin was the one
Whom she could choose to love. And this was true;
For now, since Frae had fallen, she had not seen
So goodly a man to love as was Faerdeeah.
So he grew gently merry. Presently,
When he a while had quaffed the wine from Gaul,
Maev spake and said: “Good, now, my friend, Faerdeeah,
Knowest thou why I have sent for thee this night?”
And he made answer: “Here are goodly chiefs,
And men of valour and of warlike deeds;
And where such men are gathered, ’tis but fit
I should be found amongst them!” Maev replied:
“Not only so; but I have sent for thee
To offer thee great wealth and great rewards:—
A chariot costing four times seven bond-maids,
And raiment for twelve men, of each right hue,
With drinking-horns and bridles and fleet steeds,
And kingly srōl and rings of rich red gold,
And the full measure of thy barren land
Apportioned to thee from my smooth Moy Wee,
With a fair share of plain and forest land,
To be thine own, free of all tax and tribute,
Free from demands for hostings, free to thee
And to thy sons and to thy seed for ever,
Until the brink of Judgment and of Doom.
These shall be thine, and more; for Findabair
Shall go to thee to be thine own one wife;
And I will give to thee as highest honour
The golden brooch from out my queenly robe.
These shall be thine, if thou to-morrow morn
Wilt meet Cucullin at the danger-ford,
And if by thee he shall be slain and die.”
“Great the rewards and gifts!” exclaimed the chiefs.
Faerdeeah said: “Though very great the gifts,
Maev, as for me, may take them back again.
I will not slay my brother-in-arms, Cucullin.”
They brimmed his horn again, and when again
He for a while had quaffed the Gaulish wine,
Maev spake and said: “Hearken, my friend, Faerdeeah.
It is an ancient word that to each man
His native land is dear. Cucullin fights
For his own native land, the land of Ulster;
And thou shouldst fight for thine, the land of Connaught.”
Faerdeeah hearkened for a while, then said:
“I cannot fight my brother-in-arms, Cucullin.”
They brimmed his horn again; and when again
He for a while had quaffed the Gaulish wine,
Maev spake and said: “Know’st thou, my friend, Faerdeeah,
Throughout the camp to-night by every fire,
There is no theme for jest and mockery
Save this alone, namely, that thou, Faerdeeah,
Who hast been trained to arms far in the east
By Ooaha, by Scawtha, and by Weefa,
Lackest the valour for hard battle-combat.”
Faerdeeah heard; and he grew red and pale.
For thus Faerdeeah was:—there was to him
No ill so hard to endure as mockery
And raillery and scorn and mocking words.
He paused a while in silence, but then said:
“I may not fight my brother-in-arms, Cucullin.”
They brimmed his horn again; and when again
He for a while had quaffed the Gaulish wine,
Maev spake aloof, apart, in a low voice,
According to the ways for great deceivings,
And said: “O warriors, it was a true word
Cucullin spoke.” Faerdeeah heard her words,
Even as she had meant that he should hear them.
He said to her: “What word was that, O Maev?”
“Cucullin said,” said Maev, “that unto him
It would not have appeared too much that thou,
Faerdeeah, shouldst have been the first to fall
In battle-fight with him upon this hosting.
And this is what Cucullin says: he says
That he, indeed, would think it little honour
To slay thee now, after the true war-heroes
Whom he has slain in combat on this Táin.”
Faerdeeah heard those well-deviséd words
Which Maev devised; and he grew red and pale
With wrath; yet had it not been for the wine
Which he had quaffed, he would not have believed
Those words, as now with anger he believed them.
“It was not right,” he said, “that even Cucullin
Should speak of me in that wise. Never yet
Hath he known cowardice or weariness
In me by day or night. But now I swear
I will be he who shall be found the first
In readiness upon the ford to-morrow.”
“May victory and blessing be on thee,”
Said Maev, “and all success and battle-triumph.”
“But thou, great Queen,” Faerdeeah said, “must give me
Sureties and pledges that thou wilt fulfil
The promises that thou hast made.” Then Maev
Bound herself by the firm security
Of six great chiefs and princes. Yet Faerdeeah
Paused, and he said: “Nay, thou must give me, too,
The sun and moon and wind.” And Maev complied.
She gave to him in surety sun and moon
And stars and colours and the falling dew
And the four winds—that those great powers all,
If she should break her word, might punish her.
And after that she bound Faerdeeah fast
By the same pledges and securities
To fight Cucullin on the following morn.
So they were bound on either side; and Maev
Took from her crimson bratt her heavy brooch
Of beaten gold; and kindly, royally,
Yielded it to Faerdeeah as a sign
Of mutual faith and truth and honour pledged.
Faerdeeah then, the feast being ended, went
Back to his tent and to his folk and people.
Fergus had witnessed all that speech and contract.
He went to see Cucullin; and he came
Unto that place wherein Cucullin was.
“He who will come against thee in the morn,”
He said, “is thine own friend and bosom-comrade,
Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra,
Who with thyself was trained far in the east.”
Cucullin said: “It is not he, indeed,
Whom I had wished to come against me—yet
Not on account of any fear of him,
But on account of my great love for him.”
Fergus replied: “Yet it is right to fear him;
For not like others who have come is this
Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra,
Who will confront thee at the ford to-morrow.”
Cucullin said: “Here I have been alone
Against the hosts of the Four Fifths of Erin,
Since Sowin Eve till now when spring begins.
I have not yielded one foot in retreat
In all this time before one man of them,
Save before thee, O Fergus; and I hope
I shall not yield before Faerdeeah now.”
Fergus went back to his own tent and people.
As for Faerdeeah, he had now returned
Unto his tent and folk, to whom he told
How he was bound by Maev to single combat
With dread Cucullin on the ensuing morn.
The people of Faerdeeah’s tent that night
Were not content and merry and full of joy;
But they were sorrowful, dispirited;
Because they knew in whatsoever place
Those two great heroes, those two battle-breakers,
Might meet in combat, either both would fall,
Or one would fall; and if but one should fall,
They thought that it would be their own dear lord;
For now it seemed a thing impossible
To overthrow Cucullin on this Táin.
During the earlier hours of that sad night
Faerdeeah slept a deep and heavy sleep.
Then his sleep went from him; and he awoke.
All the inebriation of Maev’s wine
Had gone; and now in the cold, misty morn
The question and the trouble and the sorrow
Of that vowed combat scourged and weighed on him.
Then he arose, and bade his charioteer
Harness his steeds and yoke his chariot quickly.
The servant sought to hinder him, and said:
“Better by far remain and take thy rest
Until the sun arise. Go not yet forth
Unto this grievous meeting and encounter.”
“Be silent now, my man,” Faerdeeah said.
“Thou speakest like a servant. We will go
With strength and valour to the ford of wounding,
O’er which the Bive shall scream.”
The horses then
Were harnessed, and the chariot yoked, and forth
They rode, and reached the battle-ford; and not
E’en yet had the full light of daylight come.
Through the dim, misty light of early morn
Maev from her tent had seen Faerdeeah pass.
She said: “Does Al-yill sleep?” “Not so,” said Al-yill.
Maev said: “Provided that Cucullin falls
By yonder warrior, ’twill be well for us
If he himself falls too; for this we know:—
That if he slays his friend, ’tis we ourselves
Whom in his woe he next will seek to slay.”
Faerdeeah and his servant then had reached
The battle-stream. “O gillie,” said Faerdeeah,
“Look, is Cucullin yet upon the ford?”
“He is not,” said the servant. “Look with heed,”
Faerdeeah said. “Cucullin,” said the servant,
“Is not some little switch or goad concealed
Amid long grass.” “’Tis true,” Faerdeeah said,
“He is not there. He has not till this hour
Heard of the coming of a true war-hero
Against him on this Táin. Now, having heard,
He has abandoned the dread ford.” “Alas!”
The gillie said, “it is unkind, disloyal,
So in his absence to insult Cucullin.
And dost thou not remember how, yon time
When ye attacked rough, battle-skilled Germanus
O’er the edge-borders of the Tyrrhene Sea,
Thou with the host hadst left thy battle-sword;
And ’twas Cucullin who regained it for thee,
Slaying one hundred men to reach to it?
And dost thou not remember where we were
On that same night?” “I do not,” said Faerdeeah.
“We all were at the house of Scawtha’s steward,”
The gillie said; “that night, with glowing pride,
Thou wentst into that house before us all;
Whereat the steward, the giant-hideous churl,
With his long, three-pronged flesh-fork struck at thee
Against the mid-part of thy back, and flung thee
Out o’er the threshold of the door. Cucullin
It was who slew that churl; and it was I
Who served as steward so long as ye remained
Within that stead. And that one day alone
Makes it not right that thou shouldst boast thyself
A better battle-hero than Cucullin.”
“Be silent, O my man,” Faerdeeah said.
“What thou now dost is wrong, thus, when too late,
Putting those days into my memory;
But hadst thou spoken of these things last night,
Then, notwithstanding Maev’s strong wine from Croohan,
Yea, notwithstanding that o’erweening boasting
Cucullin made, I had not come to-day
Unto this fight and combat. And now, gillie,”
Faerdeeah said, “desist from this, and spread
The blankets and the skins of the firm chariot
Beneath me here, that I may take my sleep,
My deep repose and rest. In the last hours
Of the dark night I slept not; for the thought
And trouble of this combat weighed on me.”
The charioteer loosened the steeds, and then
Spread for his lord the blankets and the skins;
And soon the heavy deadness of deep sleep
Fell on Faerdeeah, and he rested there.
And now about Cucullin. He arose not
Until the day with its full light had come,
That so the men of Erin might not say
That fear and terror drove away his sleep.
But when the day with all its light had come,
He rose and said unto his charioteer:
“Good now, my servant Laeg, harness the steeds
And yoke the chariot. We will now ride forth.
He is an early-rising man, this friend,
Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra,
Who comes against us at the ford to-day.”
“The steeds are caught: the chariot is prepared,”
Said Laeg, “so mount it: it will not disgrace
Thy valour or thy prowess and feats of arms.”
Then sprang into his chariot the adroit
And battle-victorious, red-sworded hero,
Cucullin son of Sooaltim; and round him
Shouted the Boccanahs and Bannanahs
And the Glen-folk and Spirits of the Air;
And Thooaha Dae Danann raised around him
Shoutings and cries, that so they might enhance
The terror and fear and hate his foes should feel.
In no long time Faerdeeah’s charioteer
Heard the dim roll of wheels, the tramp of hooves,
The musical clang of swords and spears and shields
Beating against each other, and the cries
Made by the airy spirits. Then he went
And laid his hand upon his master, saying:
“Arise, Faerdeeah! for he cometh now—
The Hound of Valour. Over wide Bray Ross
Fleetly he cometh. Like a noble hawk
He swoopeth southward, and is like the wind
For swiftness. Not with waned dexterity
Will he attack thee at the ford to-day.”
Faerdeeah, waking, spake with vehemence,
And said: “Hast thou been bribed to praise this man?
I think thou hast taken wages to extol
The vaunting youth from Cooley. Know thou, then,
That he shall find his downfall here to-day.”
And soon the charioteer, watching there, saw
Cucullin’s comely, four-peaked chariot: green
Its pleasant awning, thin and firm its frame.
Beneath the one yoke was a fleet, gray horse,
With long smooth hair: beneath the second yoke
A black horse, tufty-maned and fierce like fire,
And like a hawk down-swooping from a cloud,
Like a cold gust of spring wind o’er a plain,
Or like a deer when started by the hounds
On his first chase, were those two noble steeds.
As though they trod on fiery flags they came;
And the earth shook and trembled. So Cucullin
Came to the ford. Faerdeeah on the south
Awaited him. He on the northern side
Drew up his chariot; and they faced each other.
“Welcome, Cucullin, is thy coming,” then
Faerdeeah said. Cucullin answered him:
“Trusty and dear to me until this hour
Those words had been. Now I accept them not.
And, O Faerdeeah, it were fitter far
For me to speak the welcome in this land.
It is my land, not thine; and I am here
Defending my own people and their wives
And youths and little ones and flocks and herds,
All that are left uncaptured and unslain;
And thou hast come to combat with me here.”
Faerdeeah said: “Thereby I honour thee.
What claim or right hast thou to fight with me?
For, when we were with Scawtha far away,
Thou wast my servant and subordinate,
To fit my spears and to prepare my bed.”
“Yea, for I was the younger,” said Cucullin;
“But, well thou knowest, it is not as thy man,
Or as thy servant and subordinate,
That men hereafter will remember me.
Therefore withdraw in time, or thou shalt find
That thou hast fallen in a gap of danger;
And edgéd weapons here will hew thee down,
And thou shalt never be a battle-chief
From this time forth; but here thy life shall end.”
“Away with all thy boasting and thy warning!”
Replied Faerdeeah; “like a tame house-bird
Thou art to me. Ere sun-down, ere the night,
Crimson shall flow thy blood athwart thy bridle.
Thy head shall be upon a pointed spit,
Thou upstart vaunter! I am here at length;
And thou shalt fight and die.” So spake Faerdeeah,
Indignant rage having laid hold of him.
Then, quick, Cucullin said: “O my Faerdeeah,
Why didst thou listen to the fair-haired queen?
She hath beguiled thee with deceiving words.
We, when we were with Scawtha in the east,
Went out together into every battle.
In lands and forests many and far away
We went with Scawtha, learning, practising.
And we were heart-companions: side by side,
After long toil, we slept our good, deep sleep.
A dearer, trustier friend I have not known.
We thought that never, indeed, between us two
Could there be angry words or enmity.
Come not against me now, O noble hero,
Faerdeeah son of Daman. Break not so
Our bond of friendship. Hold in memory
The vow we made. There is not in the world
One at whose hest I would do ill to thee.”
Faerdeeah paused in silence. Then he said:
“It is too late. Too long have we been thus,
Contending with words only. And what weapons
Shall we select to-day?” Cucullin said:
“Thine is the choice of arms until the night;
For thou art he who first did reach the ford.”
“Dost thou remember, then,” Faerdeeah asked,
“The game with missive weapons that we played
With Ooaha, with Scawtha, and with Weefa?
If thou rememberest, let us try them now.”
Then they put on their two bright-bordered shields.
Adapted for quick play of skill; and took
Eight little lances made for feats of skill,
With eight well-shapen feather-wingéd darts,
Eight ivory-hilted poniards thin and straight,
And eight diminutive bone-hafted spears.
And these flew forth from them and back again
Like flying bees on a bright summer’s day.
No cast was badly aimed. From early morn
To full mid-day they cast and shot and hurled,
Until their various missiles were all spoiled
And blunted on the well-directed shields.
Though excellent the hurling, yet so true
Was the defence that neither, in all that time,
Wounded or injured or made red the other.
“Let us abandon these,” Faerdeeah said;
“For not through these our fight will be resolved.”
“Yea, let us leave them, if the time be come,”
Replied Cucullin. And they ceased, and flung
Into the hands of their good charioteers
Their darts and lances and bright-bordered shields.
“What arms or weapons shall we fight with now?”
Faerdeeah questioned; but Cucullin said:
“Thine is the choice of arms until the night;
For thou art he who first did reach the ford.”
“Then,” said Faerdeeah, “let us now take up
Our straight and shapely, smooth, well-hardened spears,
Wherein well-tightened is the flaxen cord.”
“So let us, if thou wilt,” Cucullin said.
Then they put on two strong, protecting shields;
And took their shapely, smooth, well-hardened spears,
Wherein well-tightened was the flaxen cord;
And with these arms they shot, each at the other,
From middle day until the evening fell.
Though excellent the quick defence they made,
So skilful was their hurling, and so true,
That each was hurt and wounded in that time.
“Let us leave off now for the present while,”
Faerdeeah said. “Let us, if it be time,”
Replied Cucullin. And they ceased, and threw
Into the hands of their good charioteers
Their shields and fighting-weapons; and forthwith
Each one drew nigh the other; and each laid
His arms around the other’s neck, and gave him
Three kisses ardently and fervently.
Their horses all that night remained together
In the one paddock; and their charioteers
Stayed by one fire. Howbeit, ere darkness fell
Each servant made for his own lord a bed
Of newly-gathered rushes; and both made
Pillows for wounded men; and then there came
The folk of cure and healing, and applied
Succulent herbs of healing and of cure
To all their hurts and gashes and sore wounds.
Of every herb and every healing salve
That they provided for Cucullin’s wounds
He sent one half south-westward o’er the ford
Unto Faerdeeah. And of all nourishment,
And all inspiriting, well-flavoured ale
Brought by the men of Erin to Faerdeeah,
He sent one half north-eastward o’er the ford
To freshen and delight and help Cucullin.
They, in this manner, rested there that night.
And early in the morning they arose;
And they came forward to the ford of battle.
“What arms of valour shall we take to-day?”
Cucullin asked; but briefly, courteously,
Faerdeeah answered: “Thine the choice of arms
Until the night; for in the day now past
The choice was mine.” “Let us,” Cucullin said,
“Take up our huge, wide-headed thrusting spears;
And let our steeds be caught and chariots yoked,
That from our chariots and from o’er our steeds
We may deliver battle here to-day.”
Then they put on two durable, strong shields,
Wide and protecting; and they took the spears
That were wide-headed, huge; and these they thrust
And drove against each other, from the gleam
Of early morning till the evening fell.
Their steeds were weary, and their charioteers
Dispirited; and they themselves—the heroes,
The men of valour—they were weary too.
“Now let us cease, Faerdeeah,” said Cucullin;
“Our steeds are weary; and our charioteers
Discouraged and fatigued. Why should not we
Be weary likewise?” And they ceased, and threw
Their spears and shields unto their charioteers;
And each drew nigh the other; and each laid
His arms around the other’s neck, and gave him
Three kisses; and Cucullin said: “Faerdeeah,
My loving heart is as one clot of blood;
Almost my spirit has departed from me.
What need hadst thou to come to combat here
At bidding of the evil-minded queen?
Let us withdraw from this, and strive no more.
I have not heart or strength for feats of valour,
Fighting with thee, Faerdeeah, my dear friend.”
Faerdeeah mused in silence. He recalled
The strong securities and powerful bonds
Wherein he was fast bound by Maev; then said:
“O Hound of Valour, Hound of Battle-triumph,
It is too late. We may not now draw back;
But one of us must fall, or both must fall,
In contest at this ford. And well we know
What must be, must be. Man may not avoid
His hour of birth, nor yet his hour of death;
But he is driven and constrained to come
Unto that sod where his last grave shall be.”
They rested there that night. Their charioteers
Lay at one fire; and their horses stayed
In one enclosure. And the men of healing
Came to watch o’er the wounded heroes there,
Putting unto each grievous hurt and wound
Their powerful phrases, able words and charms
And spells and incantations. Only so
Might they alleviate the sore pain, and staunch
The flowing blood—so bitter and so deep
Their hurts and injuries and gory wounds.
Of every spell and every powerful charm
Brought by the men of healing for Cucullin,
He sent one half south-westward o’er the ford
Unto Faerdeeah. And of all pleasant food,
And all exhilarating, mirthful ale,
Brought by the men of Erin to Faerdeeah,
He sent one half north-eastward o’er the ford
To help Cucullin.
In the early morn
They rose and came unto the ford of battle.
Cucullin saw a darkly-lowering cloud
Upon Faerdeeah’s face that morn, and said:
“Thou art not well to-day, my friend, Faerdeeah.
Dulled is thy hair, and drowsy is thine eye:
Thy freshness and thy form have gone from thee.”
“’Tis not through fear of thee that I am so,”
Replied Faerdeeah; “there is not in Erin
A champion I could not subdue this day.
What arms or weapons shall we fight with now?”
Cucullin answered: “Thine the choice of arms
Until the night; for in the day just past
The choice was mine.” “Let us,” Faerdeeah said,
“Take up our heavy and hard-smiting swords.
Thereby we shall be nearer to our end
Than by the thrusting we were yesterday.”
Then they put on two long and ample shields,
And took their heavy and hard-smiting swords;
And they began to hit and hew and strike
And smite each other; and continued so
From early morning till the evening fell.
“Let us forsake this now,” Faerdeeah said.
“Let us, if it be time,” Cucullin answered.
It was a parting of two mournful men,
Two sorrowful, disheartened ones, that night.
Their steeds were not in the one fold that night,
Nor lay their charioteers by the one fire.
In woe and grief they rested that night there.
And early on the morrow morn arose
Faerdeeah, and went forward all alone
Unto the ford of battle; for he knew
That was the day which finally should end
Their striving and their combat; and he knew
That one of them would fall, or both would fall,
Upon that day. And then it was indeed
That he put on his battle-suit of battle
Before the coming of Cucullin towards him.
He put against his whitely-gleaming skin
His filmy foo-a-vrōg of kingly srōl
Hemmed up with spangled gold; and over that
His foo-a-vrōg of leather, brown, well-smoothed.
And over that he placed a disc of stone,
Huge like a mill-stone; and placed o’er these all
His iron foo-a-vrōg, steadfast and deep,
Of tempered iron; and all this he did
Through fear and dread of the Gae Bulg that day.
Then he put round his head his crested cathbarr,
Whereon, in the divisions, forty gems
Of carbuncle were set, which flamed and glowed;
And it was outlined well with crooan-stones
And crystal and jewels of light that men had brought
From the far eastern world. In his right hand
He took his stalwart, death-producing spear.
He placed on his left hip his curvéd sword
With golden hilt and hand-guard of red gold.
He hung upon the broad slope of his back
His shield with hornéd rivets, that was formed
Of fifty strong concentric rings encircling
A central boss of glorious, flaming gold.
That morn Faerdeeah practised many a feat,
And many an art adroit and wonderful,
And many a movement that he ne’er had learned
From Ooaha, from Scawtha or from Weefa,
But had contrived himself, to be attempted
That day against Cucullin.
And Cucullin
Came to the ford, and saw each noble feat
And all the arts adroit and wonderful
Faerdeeah practised there; and then he said:
“My good friend Laeg, thou seest the noble feats
Faerdeeah practises; and well we know
That all these arts in turn will here to-day
Be tried against me. Therefore thou, good Laeg,
If they prevail against me in the least,
If I begin to yield or waver here,
Thou shalt incite me and find fault with me,
And rail at me with sour, disdainful words,
That so thou mayst arouse my rage and ire.
But if it be that I prevail, then praise me,
Commend me, and speak kind, applauding words,
That so my hope and spirit may grow the more.”
And Laeg replied: “Thus, surely, will I do.”
Cucullin then put on his noble garb
Of battle and of combat; and he too
Performed adroit and accurate turns of skill,
And feats and arts that he had never learned
With Ooaha, with Scawtha, or with Weefa.
Faerdeeah witnessed all those feats, and knew
Each would be tried against him in its turn.
“What arms of valour shall we take to-day?”
Inquired Cucullin; and Faerdeeah said:
“Thine is the choice of arms until the night.”
“Let us, then, try the ford-feat,” said Cucullin.
“Let us,” replied Faerdeeah, “if so thou wilt.”
Howbeit, though thus Faerdeeah gave consent,
The choice was unto him a cause of grief;
For, until then, Cucullin had o’erthrown
All champions and all heroes whomsoever
Who in the ford-feat had encountered him.
Illustrious and awful was the fight
That they fought out upon the ford that day—
Those two exalted warriors, those two heroes,
Those high-born ones with gift-bestowing hands,
Those well-belovéd pillars of all valour,
Those keys of valour of the valiant Gael,
Those two dear friends, brought to such dreadful fight
Through the skilled instigation and inciting
And the skilled wiles and slanderous words of Maev.
From early morning till the midday hour
They cast and hurled; but when the midday came,
Their battle-anger rose and boiled with fury.
And from that hour their rage and battle-fury
Seethed in their hearts, so that each knew no more
That he was fighting with his friend and comrade;
But each thought only of the strife and combat.
And each drew nigh the other. Then it was
That from the very brink of the wide ford
Cucullin leapt, and lighted on the boss,
The golden central boss, of the great shield
Faerdeeah son of Daman held before him.
For thus he hoped to strike Faerdeeah’s head
Over the border of the mighty shield.
But, straight, Faerdeeah with his left elbow dealt
The shield a blow, and cast Cucullin back,
Light as a bird, on the ford’s brink again.
Again Cucullin leapt, and deftly lighted
On the great boss, to reach Faerdeeah’s head.
Faerdeeah dealt the shield a mighty blow
With his left knee, and cast Cucullin back,
Light as a child, on the ford’s brink again.
And Laeg perceived that thing. “Alas!” said Laeg,
“The man who is against thee casts thee now
As a lewd woman casts away her child:
He flings thee as the river flings the foam:
He grinds thee as the mill grinds the fresh malt:
He cuts thee as the wood-axe cuts the oak:
He binds thee as the woodbine binds the tree:
He pounces on thee as the hawk doth pounce
On tiny birds: and thou hast now no kin
And no relationship to men of valour
From this time forth, thou small distorted sprite.”
Then, with the swiftness of the cold spring wind,
With the adroitness of a swallow flying,
Cucullin once again sprang through the air,
And lighted once again upon the boss
Of the great shield, to strike Faerdeeah’s head.
Faerdeeah gave the shield a sudden shake,
And cast Cucullin back on the ford’s brink,
As though he had ne’er leapt from it at all.
Then, for the first time in their awful combat,
Cucullin was distorted with his rage
And filled with swelling, as a bladder is filled
With a man’s breath; and he appeared to be—
To those who watched—some giant, terrible,
Strange, and discoloured. Like a Man of the Sea,
Or huge Fomorian from the north, he stood
In perfect height against Faerdeeah there.
So close the combat was, which there they made,
That now their heads encountered o’er their shields,
And now their feet below them; and their hands
Met in the middle part, beyond the plates
And borders of the shields. So close their fight,
Their shields were burst and rifted from the rim
Unto the central part. So close their fight,
Their spears were bent and doubled from the point
Unto the haft. So close the fight they made,
The unseen Bannanahs and Boccanahs
And the Glen-folk and Spirits of the Air
Screamed from the edges of their shields, and cried
From each sword-hilt and spear-shaft; and the herds
Of horses of the men of Erin brake
In fright and fury from their rings and tethers,
And fled in madness. And the little folk
And women and youths and cowardly folk and fools
Broke from the camp south-westwards in their fright
And wild alarm and terror in that hour.
They now were at the edge-feat with their swords.
Faerdeeah found a chance upon Cucullin
For one brief instant; and he dealt a blow
With his bone-hafted dagger, till its blade
Was hidden in Cucullin’s chest. The blood
Fell on Cucullin’s girdle; and the ford
Was reddened with his blood. Cucullin then
Held out no longer; for Faerdeeah still
Was striking his annihilating blows,
And his long blows, and his great middle blows,
Upon him there; and he called out to Laeg
To send him the Gae Bulg. Faerdeeah heard
Cucullin calling for that spear of Scawtha.
He made a downward stroke with his great shield
To shield his under-part. Cucullin hurled
Out of his palm a short, straight dart athwart
The upper margin of Faerdeeah’s shield,
And through the throat-vent of his horn-skin armour,
So that the point thereof was visible,
After its piercing of Faerdeeah’s heart,
Within his breast and side. Faerdeeah then
Made a swift, upward stroke with his great shield
To shield his over-part; though this was help
Arriving when too late. And Laeg meanwhile
Directed the Gae Bulg along the stream.
Cucullin with the toes of his feet received it.
He gave a choice cast of the Scythian weapon
Upward against Faerdeeah; and it pierced
The iron foo-a-vrōg of tempered iron,
And clove the disc of stone into three parts,
And pierced through all the coverings of his frame,
So that each inward part of him was filled
With spear-heads of the opening Gae Bulg.
“That is henceforth enough,” Faerdeeah said:
“O Hound of beautiful and wondrous feats,
I fall by that.” The heavy mist of death
Came o’er Faerdeeah. And Cucullin ran
And closed his hands around him; and he bore him
With all his arms and his accoutrements
North-eastward o’er the ford, and up the bank,
That so the trophies of the victory
Might be with him north-eastward of the ford,
Not with the men of Erin on the south.
Then on the ground he laid Faerdeeah down.
His battle-fury now had gone from him;
And a thick cloud of faintness and of pain
Descended densely on him while he bent
O’er the dead body of Faerdeeah there.
This was perceived by Laeg. “Master,” said Laeg,
“Hasten away. The men of Erin come;
And ’tis not single combat they will give us,
Faerdeeah son of Daman being slain.”
“Why should I haste, my servant?” moaned Cucullin;
“And what have I to do with rising now?
The utmost folly and rage of grief is mine,
After my swording of this noble one.
Would rather he had lopped from me each limb
Ere this thing had befallen!”
“Nay,” said Laeg,
“Triumph, elation, spirit, and delight
Befit thee now. At thee he dealt his blows
Unfriendly, envious, lamentable. Now
Faerdeeah of the Hosts has fallen. Now
Maev has received her deadliest grief of all.
Hasten away, O Slaughter-hound of Avvin,
And heal thy wounds; and when they are whole again,
Great joy and exultation shall be thine.”
Cucullin heeded not; but he began
To moan and to complain and to lament
Above Faerdeeah there, and spake these words:
“Alas, Faerdeeah! great the treachery
The men of Erin did thee! Wherefore now
Didst thou lend ear to the deceiving words
Of the fair western women? Didst thou think
That Findabair would be for thee? As well
Tie with a thong the shifting river-sand
As think to win her! Unto many more
Had she been promised, ere Maev promised thee.
But never shall they find another hero
Like thee to fight for Croohan—nevermore
One of like deeds in battle, summoning
The red-mouthed Bive to scream above the slain.
And never shall they see the like of thee,
Cloud-coloured son of Daman, whose bright face
Was like the clouds of dawn. Oh, dear to me
Thy ruddy freshness, dear thy shapely form,
Thy pure blue eye and yellow-streaming hair,
Thy gifts of wisdom and of eloquence!
Oh, woe that thou shouldst die while I remain!
I have not known one like thee, my Faerdeeah!”
So spake Cucullin and was silent. Yet
He moved not; but he gazed upon Faerdeeah.
And then he spake, and said: “My good friend Laeg,
Remove Faerdeeah’s armour. Let me see
The golden brooch that pledged him to this fight.”
And Laeg removed the armour; and they saw
The golden brooch. Cucullin wept and said:
“It was not right, Faerdeeah, so to come
To fight with me. When we were far away
With Scawtha in the east, we thought unkindness
Could never be between us. Now, good Laeg,
Open the body, and take out the spear.
I cannot be without the Gae Bulg.” Laeg
Opened the body and took out the spear.
Cucullin saw his weapon, red with blood,
Lying beside Faerdeeah; and he said:
“O my Faerdeeah, sorrowful the fate!
I, with my merciless weapon still unwashed:
Thou, pale in death upon a couch of gore.
Sad—what has come of our meeting here—
I, wounded, sinking, covered with rough gore:
Thou, altogether dead! Oh, dear to me
The friend to whom I have served a draught of blood!”
“Good, now, Cucullin, let us leave the ford,”
Said Laeg; “too long have we been here.” “Aye, Laeg,”
Cucullin answered, “we will leave.” But still
He gazed back at Faerdeeah; and he said:
“Now every other combat I have fought
Seems but a game of play. Alas! I loved
This pillar of gold whom now I have overthrown.
Huge, like a mountain, he seemed yesterday:
To-day his shadow only doth remain.
There hath not come unto a gory battle,
Nor hath old Banba nursed upon her breast,
Nor hath there e’er been known on sea or land,
Of sons of warriors, one of better fame.”
Laeg on the chariot placed his suffering lord,
And drove a goad into the waiting steeds;
And so Cucullin, while the evening fell,
Into the blue-black forest rode away,
Wounded well-nigh to death. The men of Erin
Interred Faerdeeah in a noble grave,
With his rich dress and war-accoutrements,
And shield and spear and all his various arms.
There the green-surfaced hill was closed above him,
Beside the ford to which they gave his name.
[Illustration: “THE DEATH OF FAERDEEAH.”]
BOOK XIII
BOOK XIII
From out of Ulster some few men arrived
To help Cucullin, and console and aid
And ease him. These were Shennel Ooaha
And the two sons of Gaega—Muridah
And Cotreb. These men carried him away
To bathe his wounds and make clear water strike
Against his gashes, plunged in brooks and streams
Of Connallia Mweerhevna. For his friends,
The unseen Thooaha Dae Danann, then
Were strowing plants and herbs of health and healing
On each pure stream of Connallia Mweerhevna,
To help Cucullin; so that each bright stream
Was greenly checkered with them. Now, the names
Of those bestrown, bright streams which helped Cucullin
Are these:—the Sawss, the Booan, the Billawn,
The Finnglass, the light Glore, the Glenawin,
The Baeg, the Tahg, the Telamet, the Rind,
The Bir, the Brenid, the Deehaem, the Mooah,
The Meelic, the cramped Cumung, and the Cullin,
The Ganawin, the Drong, the Delt, the Dooglass.
And so the soilure and the dangerous venom
Were laved from out his wounds. And, after that,
Dry wisps and pads of grass and moss were placed
Against those wounds. And supple willow-wands
Were arched above him to sustain his bratt;
Because his wounds and gashes were so great
That he might not endure it if his raiment
Should reach his skin. And thus that day his life
Was kept within Cucullin; yet it wanted
Only a little, and he would have died
Despite that help, so bitter were his hurts
After that awful combat with Faerdeeah.
And while Cucullin thus was bathed and tended
The Four Great Fifths of Erin went south-west
From Ath Faerdeeah; and they drew nigh Taltin—
The burial-field of Ulster kings and queens
And kingly princes; and they drove with them
Their captives and their droves of Ulster kine,
Thinking to drive them through the wide west ford,
And into Connaught, ere the men of Ulster
Should rise from out their Kesh; and Maev sent forth
Mac Roth her messenger, e’en to the hills
And crags and green-grassed summits of Slieve Foo-id,
To watch the north, that thus in Avvin Maha
The men of Ulster might not rise in arms
Without her having swift advice and warning.
This is the time wherein the charioteers
Of Ulster—three times fifty charioteers—
Accoutering themselves with warlike arms,
Came south against the hosts. There fell by them
Thrice their own number, ere those charioteers
From Ulster in the field themselves fell slain.
This is the time when aged Illiah
The son of Cass the son of Bac the son
Of Ross the Red-haired son of Rury More,
Resting in old-age maintenance—maintained
In green Rath Immil, by his son’s famed son,
By Laery the Victorious—was informed
How, throughout all the cold, dark winter months,
Even from Sowin till the opening spring,
The Four Great Fifths of Erin had been spoiling,
And laying waste and ravaging and burning,
All Ulster and all Crithny. Illiah
Took counsel with his folk. “What counsel now,”
Said he, “would seem to you more wise than this,
Namely, that I should travel south forthwith
To attack the men of Erin, and to take
Spoils from their armies, and avenge a little
The honour of all Ulster? If thereafter
I fall myself and die, that is all one.”
His folk approved of that. They caught for him
His two old, yellow, withered, wasted steeds,
Which were upon the shore beside the doon.
They brought his old-time, antique chariot out,
That was without cushion or coverlet,
And yoked it on the steeds. His rough, grey shield
Of iron, with its hard encircling rim
Of hardened silver, he took up. He took
His rough, grey-hilted sword on his left side.
He took his two blunt spears with shaking heads
Into his chariot; and his folk arranged
Round stones and pillar-stones and great, flat flags
About him in his chariot. Furnished so
He travelled south against the men of Erin.
Ere long the hosts perceived him. Then the men,
Seeing that agéd, naked warrior come,
His spittle of old age down through the gaps
In the old osier-woven chariot-floor
Slow-dripping, laughed aloud their mocking laugh.
“Good would it seem to us,” they said, “if such
Were the description of each man from Ulster
Who e’er should come against us!” In that hour
Dōha the son of Mahga passed that way.
Full quickly he restrained the rabble-crowd.
He went to Illiah, and welcomed him.
“Welcome thy coming, noble Illiah!”
Said Dōha. “What man is it who thus greets me?”
Old Illiah queried. “’Tis the friend and comrade
Of Laery the Victorious,” Dōha said.
“’Tis Dōha son of Mahga.” “Dear to me
Thy welcome is, then,” Illiah replied;
“Therefore draw near me after some short while,
When all my valour shall have withered up,
And all my weapons shall have been expended,
That thou thyself and not some other man
Among the men of Erin mayst be he
Who strikes my head from me. And let my sword
Be kept by thee for Laery.” The old man
Then with his weapons wrought upon the hosts
Until his weapons had been all expended;
And when his weapons had been all expended,
He wrought upon them with his rocky weights—
Round stones and pillar-stones and great, flat flags,
Which he had there—till these had been expended.
And when his flags and stones had been expended,
He wrought upon them with his arms. He seized
Whichever man among the men of Erin
Came near; and ’twixt his forearms and his fists
Compressed and chafed him till he made of him
A marrow-mass, wherein formless were mingled
Sinews and skin and bones and hair and flesh.
One of the three chief wonders of the Táin
Is the great number whom he wrought on so,
Ere all his old-age valour was expended;
And when his strength and valour were expended,
Descrying Dōha, he called out to him:
“Come to me now, O Dōha son of Mahga!
Now strike my head from me; but let my sword
Be kept by thee for Laery.” Dōha came.
With one swift sword-blow he struck off the head
From the old warrior; and in this way ended
“The stone-attack of agéd Illiah.”
Now—though the king and chiefs in Avvin Maha
Arose not yet out of their blinding Kesh,
Which had been paining them and blinding them—
Yet, by degrees, in other parts of Ulster,
Some few great Ulster chiefs arose with life,
And came to attack the hosts.
The first of these
Was the famed warrior-poet, Avver-guin
The son of Cass the son of Bac the son
Of Ross the Red-haired son of Rury More.
He was the father of great Conall Carna,
Who at this time was gathering rent and tribute
For Ulster, in the isles beyond the sea.
Avver-guin reached the hosts as they were passing
With all their throngs to westward over Taltin,
The ancient burial-field of Ulster kings
And princes; and he drove them back once more
Before him over Taltin, toward the north.
He put his firm left elbow under him
In Taltin, and his folk provided him
With stones and pillar-stones, and great flat flags;
And with these missiles he assailed the hosts
Throughout the space of three days and three nights.
This was the time when, in the far south-west,
In Caher Conroi, Cooroi son of Dawra,
Having returned from warfare in far Scythia,
Was told how through those long, dark, winter months,
Even from Sowin till the opening spring,
The Four Great Fifths of Erin had been stayed
And held in check and hindered and delayed
By one man all alone. Now, as for Cooroi,
Since first he had taken arms, he had not reddened
His sword in Erin; for there was not room
In Erin for his pride and haughtiness
And warrior-fulness; and he e’er had reddened
His sword in distant lands. But when he heard
How the Four Fifths of Erin had been hindered
By one man all alone, he said: “That man,
Indeed, gives worthy matter for a combat.”
And Cooroi son of Dawra went forthwith
To seek hard battle-combat with Cucullin.
Then, when he came to the lone forest-hiding
Wherein Cucullin was, and saw Cucullin
Crying with bitter pain, and full of wounds,
And pierced and hurt, it did not seem to him
Noble or hero-like or full of honour
To seek a combat with him. “For,” he said,
“It would not be the wounds given by me,
Which would now cause his death; ’twould be the wounds
Which he obtained in combat with Faerdeeah.”
Cooroi the son of Dawra therefore left
Cucullin; and he went to join the hosts,
And to have speech with his own household people
Who were upon that hosting. When he came
And joined the hosts, he perceived Avver-guin,
Westward of Taltin, hurling at the hosts,
With his left elbow under him. Then Cooroi
Passed round the men of Erin toward the north
Of Taltin; and his folk provided him
With stones and pillar-stones and great, flat flags;
And face to face he assailed Avver-guin,
So that the rocks and pillar-stones and flags
Answered each other in the air, and clashed
Amidst the clouds and in the air above
The heads of all those hosts. A hundred stones
Were made of every separate stone of them
Amidst the clouds and winds above their heads.
“Upon the truth of valour which thou hast,
O Cooroi,” Maev said, “cease from this thy hurling:
’Tis not good help that comes to us therefrom,
But evil help.” “I give my word,” said Cooroi,
“I will not cease until the Breast of Doom,
Or until Avver-guin shall cease.” Thereon
Avver-guin said: “I will cease verily;
And bind thyself to come again no more
To help these hosts of Erin.” Cooroi then
Accepted that; and went upon his road
To his own folk and his own high-walled doon—
To Caher Conroi in the far south-west.
During this time the hosts of Erin passed
O’er Taltin toward the west. “It was not this,”
Said Avver-guin, “which Cooroi bound on me
Namely, that I should ne’er begin again
To hurl against yon hosts.” Therefore, again
He went to westward of them, and he drove them
Before him over Taltin toward the north;
And he began to hurl, and hurled at them
For a long while and a great space of time.
And then it was that all the men of Erin
Said it would not dishonour Avver-guin,
If they should leave their camp in Taltin empty,
And if their hosts should go for one day’s journey
Back toward the north, so that they might be stayed
And be delayed upon their road to Connaught;
And if, on his part, Avver-guin should stay
His deeds of valour from the hosts of Erin,
Until the day when, in a powerful battle,
The Five Great Fifths of Erin should be met
Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig,
As now their druids and their seers and prophets
Were prophesying they should meet. He said
He would accept that. Then the hosts went back
One full day’s journey toward the north; and he,
Keeping in Taltin, stayed his deeds of valour
Against the men of the Four Fifths of Erin.
The next of the great Ulster chiefs to come
To do his deeds against the hosts of Erin
Was Rōhee son of Faha-win, who came
From Reedonn in the north. He brought with him
Thrice fifty warriors; and he seized a hill
Facing the hosts of the Four Fifths of Erin.
Findabair daughter of Maev and Al-yill
Saw Rōhee on that hill not far from them;
And he was thus:—a hero than whom none
Could be more comely or more beautiful;
For on his head there was a bushy grove
Of hair red-yellow; and his pure-skinned face
Was broad above and narrowed toward the chin;
His eyes were very blue, keen with high pride,
Like laughing candles in his head; his lips
Were rosy, thin; his teeth gleamed like clear pearls;
His figure was erect and tall and even,
Broad at the shoulder, narrow-hipped, white-skinned.
He wore a layna made of royal srōl
With margin-hems of gold. His bratt of crimson
Was fastened with a princely yō of gold.
He wore a white-bright shield, whereon were beasts
Of twisted gold. His dazzling warrior-sword
Was golden-hilted; and his spear was long,
Grey-edged, and done with rivets of findrinny.
In all wide Erin there had ne’er been seen
A hero-chief more beautiful; and maidens
Throughout wide Erin loved him for the tales
Which were related of his shape and beauty.
Findabair daughter of Maev and Al-yill,
When she perceived that warrior Rōhee there,
Grew rosy and then pale; and ere the eve
She to her mother, even to Maev, spake all
Her whisper and her secret. “O dear mother,”
She said, “’tis yonder hero whom I love;
And who (since I have seen him) e’er will be
The man to whom my thoughts will cleave—the man
Whom I would choose to be my love and wooer.”
And Maev replied: “Dear child, if thou dost love him,
He shall be thine. Sleep with him, then, this night;
But, first of all, ask of him that he stay
His deeds of valour from these hosts of Erin,
Until the day when, in a powerful battle,
The Five Great Fifths of Erin shall be met
Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig,
As now our druids and our seers and prophets
Are prophesying they shall meet.” And Rōhee
The son of Faha-win accepted that;
And Findabair daughter of Maev and Al-yill
Went to the tent of Rōhee that same night.
Now one among the seven under-kings
Of Munster who had come upon that hosting
Was told of this. He spake unto his people:
“That maid was promised to myself,” he said,
“Long before this. That was indeed the reason
Why I came forth upon this war and hosting.”
Each of the seven under-kings of Munster
Said the same words; and that that was the reason
Why he himself had come upon the hosting.
“And wherefore should we not now go,” they said,
“To avenge our honour on those seven men,
Those seven Mahn-yas, sons of Maev and Al-yill,
Who now keep guard to rearward of these hosts,
In the low-lying Im-lee of Glendomna?”
This was the counsel which they deemed the best.
Then they arose—each with his warrior-cantred.
And, on the other part, Al-yill and Maev
And all the seven sons of Mahga rose
With their own people and their warrior-cantreds.
And it was then that Fergus son of Roy
Rose with his cantred to make intercession
And peace between them. But to make that peace
Was putting hand to a great work; for ere
That peace was made, and all sat down in quiet
Beside their comrades and beside their arms,
Hundreds of very valiant men had fallen
On both those sides. And this, indeed, was one
Of three uncounted slaughters on the Táin,
Which were: the Shessra of the Bressla More,
This “Imlee of Glendomna,” and the battle
Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig,
The battle of the Táin.
And Findabair
Daughter of Maev and Al-yill heard these tidings,
Namely, that those unnumbered men had fallen
Through her occasion. And she had not known
Of all the promises which had been made
Before the Táin. Then, when she heard these tidings,
Her heart within her breast broke and was cloven
With shame and generous feeling towards those men.
And she found death; and she was buried straightway.
And that red, heath-grown, very lonely hill,
Wherein that day with grief they buried her,
After that time was called Slieve Findabair.
And on that heath-grown hill they wailed above her
Her death-wail, and her loud, long burial-cry—
E’en as in old, old, very far-back days,
Brigit the daughter of the mighty Dagda
Had ordered and ordained; for it was Brigit,
That woman-poet and that woman-druid,
The goddess whom all poets love and worship,
Who had ordained that in all time to come
There should be wailing o’er the dead in Erin.
The hosts of Erin said: “White was this fight
For Rōhee son of Faha-win—unnumbered
Full-valiant men to fall through his occasion,
And he without a redness or a wound.”
The hosts of Erin travelled toward the west,
And made their camps that night in Slane of Meath.
Of “Sooaltim’s Repeated Warning” now
We next must tell. Sooaltim had been told
How his young son, the son of Dectora,
Namely, Cucullin, was in hard oppression
Of very wrongful and unequal combat
With Calateen of many dangerous arts
Together with his seven and twenty sons,
And his young grandson, Glass the son of Delga.
Then, after some delaying, Sooaltim
Went forth to find Cucullin; and he found him
In wounds and pain, wounded well-nigh to death
After his awful combat with Faerdeeah.
And Sooaltim began to wail above him,
And to cry out with pity and with woe.
Then to Cucullin it seemed loss of honour
That Sooaltim should wail above him—seeing
That, though he was in wounds and grief and pain,
This Sooaltim could not avenge him. Thus
Was Sooaltim:—no mighty, wondrous warrior,
And yet no bad, mean warrior; but a good,
Plain, homely, ordinary man-at-arms.
Cucullin then spake unto Sooaltim:
“Good, now, my father Sooaltim,” he said,
“Cease from thy wailing; and away with thee
To Avvin Maha to the men of Ulster.
Say to them that they now must come themselves
After their wives and babes and driven kine.
I am unfit to guard them any longer
Amidst the gaps and passes of the land
Of Connallia Mweerhevna. All alone
I have been facing the Four Fifths of Erin
Since Sowin, until now, when Spring begins.
And I have slain one warrior at a ford
Each day, or else each night one hundred men.
The Faith of Men has not been kept with me
In single combat at the battle-ford;
For they sent many men to fight with one.
They are bent willow-wands which hold my bratt
Above me, that it may not touch my skin.
They are dry wisps of moss which dress my wounds.
E’en from my crown unto my soles there is
No place whereon a needle-point might rest,
Which is without some gash or hurt or wound.
There is not on me e’en one single hair
Without its dew-like drop of deep red blood
Held on its point—save on my left hand only,
Wherewith I held my shield; and my left hand
Has thrice ten wounds. Unless they come to avenge
These things forthwith, they never will avenge them
Until the Breast of Judgment and of Doom.”
Then Laeg led up the wondrous Leea Maha,
Cucullin’s steed, who once from the Grey Lake
On lone Slieve Foo-id had come forth to him,
So that he cast his arms about his neck
And wrestled with him, making him his own.
(And now that steed would love him till his death.)
And Sooaltim upon the Leea Maha,
Cucullin’s steed, rode north to Avvin Maha,
With warnings unto Ulster. When he reached
The side of Avvin, he cried out the words:
“In Ulster men are slain, O men of Ulster!
Women are carried captive! Kine are driven!”
Howbeit, he found not from the men of Ulster
The answer which he would have deemed sufficient.
And, since he found it not, he went yet further,
E’en to the top of the high, girdling rampart
Of Avvin; and he called the same words there:
“In Ulster men are slain, O men of Ulster!
Women are carried captive! Kine are driven!”
And still he found not from the men of Ulster
The answer which he would have deemed sufficient.
For thus the men of Ulster were:—’twas gass
To all of them to speak before their king
Should speak; and to the king himself ’twas gass
To speak before the druids who were with him
Should speak. And Sooaltim went further yet,
E’en to the Flagstone of the Hostages
’Midst Avvin; and he called the same words there;
“In Ulster men are slain, O men of Ulster!
Women are carried captive! Kine are driven!”
Then Cathbad, the great Druid, spake—yet spake
As one who still was dreaming:—“Who has slain?”
He said, “and who has captured? Who has driven?”
“Al-yill and Maev have come despoiling you,”
Cried Sooaltim, “and they have seized your women,
Your youths, your tender lads and little ones,
Your horses and your troops of mares, your kine,
Both milch and dry, your bulls, your numerous herds.
Cucullin all alone has stayed and hindered
And held in check the Four Great Fifths of Erin,
Amid the gaps and passes and defiles
Of Conallia Mweerhevna. In his combats
They broke the Faith of Men with him. No man
From Ulster goes to aid him or to help him.
The lad was wounded. He is crushed and broken.
They are bent willow-wands which hold his bratt
Above him that it may not touch his skin.
There is not on him any single hair
Without its dew-like drop of deep red blood
Held on its point—save on his left hand only,
Wherewith he held his shield; and his left hand
Has thrice ten wounds. Unless ye go to avenge
These things forthwith, ye never will avenge them
Until the Breast of Judgment and of Doom.”
“The man who thus incites his own high-king
Is fit for death,” said Cathbad the great Druid.
“That which is said by Sooaltim is true,”
Said Conor. “It is true,” said all the men
In Avvin all together; but they spake
As men who still were dreaming. Sooaltim,
Because he found not from the men of Ulster
The answer which he would have deemed sufficient,
Went from them, then, in anger and great rage
And very venomous ire and fierce wrath,
And spake no further warning. It was then
That the dear steed, Cucullin’s Leea Maha,
Who loved Cucullin and who grieved for him,
Reared beneath Sooaltim; but Sooaltim
Rode on o’er the high rampart-mound of Avvin
Unheeding of that sign. Then his own shield
Turned against Sooaltim; and the sharp rim
Of his own shield struck at his neck, and struck
The head from Sooaltim, whereat the steed,
Cucullin’s steed, the loving Leea Maha,
Himself went back to Avvin; and the shield
Was on the steed, and in the hollow shield
Was the swayed head of Sooaltim. The head
Of Sooaltim cried out the self-same words:
“In Ulster men are slain, O men of Ulster!
Women are carried captive! Kine are driven!”
Then Conor heard the cry of the dead head
Of Sooaltim. He rose and spake, yet spake
As one who still was dreaming: he was dulled
By his confusion in his Kesh and sleep.
“That cry of lamentation is a little
Too mournful and too great,” he said, “because
The heaven is above us and the earth
Is underneath us, and the blue-rimmed sea
Is round us in a circuit. And unless
The firmament with all its showers of stars
Shall fall upon the firm face of the earth—
Unless the many-furrowed, blue-rimmed sea
Shall veil the thick-haired forehead of the world—
Unless the earth shall break and yawn beneath us—
I will bring back each of those captured women
To her own place and her own Ulster dwelling,
I will bring back each of those driven kine
To her own stead and her own field for grazing,
By victory of battle and of conflict,
Of combat and of contest and of war.”
And it was then that Conor saw his son,
Finn-ha Faerbend. (And he was called “Faerbend,”
“The Man of Horns,” because he used to wear
Horns of bright silver on his head.) And Conor
Bade him go forth to muster and to gather
The men of Ulster; and he named to him
The men whom he should summon; and he named
In equal way the living and the dead:
He yet was one part dream-blind, and was dulled
By his confusion in his Kesh and sleep.
He said: “O Finn-ha, go from me. Go forth
To Conall Carna son of Avver-guin
At Meedlougher; to Mend son of Sal-colgan
Beside the white-bright Boyne; to the three sons
Of Feeacna who own the Donn of Cooley,
Namely, to Dawra, Ross, and Im-ha, south
In Cooley; to great Connud son of Morna,
Beside the Callan; to wise Avver-guin
The poet, by the Bush in the far north.
To Laery the Victorious son of Connud,
By his own loch at Immil; to wise Finguin
The leech of Finngower; to Cooscree Mend,
The son of Conor, in green Innish Cooscree;
To Foorbee Faerbenn son of Conor, at Seel
On green Moy Innish; to renowned Cucullin
The son of Sooaltim, on Moy Mweerhevna;
To Owen son of Door-ha King of Farney;
To Blai the brewy, in the Ards of Ulster;
To Avver-guin of white-foamed Assaroe;
To huge, thick-necked Munnrower son of Guerkind,
From out of Mourne; to Kehern son of Finntan,
At Carrloig; to great-spirited Folloon,
Conor’s young son, who heads the lads in Avvin;
To Illann son of Fergus son of Roy,
In Gower; to strong Broo-aher, in Slawnga;
To Shenca, the sweet-worded one of Ulster,
In his own house; to Muridah and Cotreb
And Shennel Ooaha; to the great queen,
Namely, Findmore the warrior-wife of Keltar,
In strong Dunseverick by the northern sea;
To Rōhee, in bright Reedonn; to great Keltar
The son of Oo-hider, in Doon Le-Glass;
To Aerrga Ecbael, in his own Bree Aerrga.”
These are a few of those great kings and princes
And hero-chiefs whom Conor named that day.
But many more he named. Not difficult
Indeed to Finn-ha was that mustering,
That congregating and that war-assembling,
Which Conor gave to him to make. For those
Who then were west or north or east of Avvin
Came, without pause, unto the Green of Avvin,
Under obedience to their ruling kings,
And at the words of their own chiefs and princes,
To serve this rising and this war of Conor.
But those who then were south of smooth-bright Avvin,
Went without pause along the track and road
Of the great hosts of the Four Fifths of Erin.
The first day’s travel which the men of Ulster
Made around Conor brought them ere night fell
To high Ardcullin. “Wherefore halt we here,
O men?” said Conor. “We halt here,” said they,
“Awaiting thy two sons, Feeaha, namely,
And Feeacna, who went from us to Tara,
To fetch therefrom thy little grandson Erc,
The son of Fedilmid, the Blooming One,
Thy daughter. For, although he be the son
Of Carpry Neea Faer, of Al-yill’s brother,
Who sides with Maev upon this war and hosting,
They ask him now to come, with the full strength
Which he can muster forth on this occasion,
To help his mother’s father.” Conor said:
“I will no longer halt upon Ardcullin;
Because the men of Erin have not heard
That I have risen from that darkening pain
And Kesh wherein we were; they have not heard
That I am yet alive after that pain.”
And it was then that Conor son of Fahtna
And Keltar son of Oo-hider went forward
With three times fifty well-armed chariot-heroes,
Till they reached Ath Neermeeda. Nigh that ford
They saw eight twenties of huge, powerful men
Of the especial folk of Maev and Al-yill;
And with them were eight twenties of the women
Of Ulster in hard bondage and oppression.
This was their share of the rich spoil of Ulster:—
A woman in the hand of every man.
Conor and Keltar took from those huge men
Their eight times twenty heads; and they delivered
Those women from their bondage and oppression.
After that time, that ford was called Ath Fayna,
“Ford of the Warriors,” because thus the warriors
Of east and west encountered there that day.
Conor and Keltar turned again and stayed
On high Ardcullin nigh their hosts that night.
That night on high Ardcullin ’midst his sleep
Keltar the son of Oo-hider was troubled
And stirred by visions, and he sang these words:
“Gather yourselves, ye warriors and ye heroes!
A mighty battle will be fought by you.
The heavy-sodded earth will shake with you.
Thick showers of spears will be hurled forth by you.
Deep, vengeful wounds shall be thick-dealt by you.
Ye shall inflict horror and fear and dread.
Ye shall inflict pale death and lasting shame.
Gather yourselves, ye warriors and ye heroes!
A very mighty battle will be fought
Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig
At morn upon a day which now is near us.”
That night on Slane of Meath amidst his sleep
Cormac Conlingish son of Conor son
Of Fahtna Fahee was perturbed and troubled
And stirred by visions; and he sang the words:
“Wondrous the morn! Wondrous the time of meeting!
Hosts will be mixed. Hosts will be turned in flight.
Throats will be broken, sand and earth be reddened.
The kings of Ulster will arise round Conor.
They will contend for their own Ulster women.
They will contend for their own driven herds,
Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig,
At morn upon a day which now is near us.”
That night on Slane of Meath amidst his sleep
Rough Duffa Dael from Ulster lands was troubled
And stirred by visions; and he sang the words:
“Great are the hosts—the hosts on high Ardcullin.
Great is the morn—the morn on wide, fair Meath.
Great are the hosts of steeds—the hosts of steeds
Which shall be seen on the long road of Assal.
Great is the fight—the fight not far from Clahra.
Great is the battle-storm—the battle-storm
Of men of Ulster round their king, round Conor.
They will contend for their own Ulster women.
They will contend for their own driven herds,
Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig,
At morn upon a day which now is near us.”
And this indeed is truth, and not a lie:
To men of Ulster and to men of Erin
This night was not the calmest and the gentlest
Which they had ever known upon a hosting,
Or e’er would know in any time to come—
Because of all the songs and prophecies
Which they thus uttered in their time of sleeping,
And all the spectres and the loathly shapes,
And all the apparitions and the visions
Which in the darkness and the doleful gloom
Appeared to them amidst their sleep that night.
BOOK XIV
BOOK XIV
At time of the delightfulness and beauty
Of the red light of morning, Al-yill rose
From out his royal tent on Slane of Meath,
And said: “From Sowin until spring-tide now
We have been devastating, wasting, burning
All Ulster and all Crithny. We have taken
From the rich folk of Ulster and of Crithny
Their wives and sons and tender little ones,
Their steeds and flocks of mares, their herds of kine,
Their herds of every sort of grazing kine;
And we have levelled down their turfy knolls,
Till all their glens and trenches are filled up
After our track. Therefore, this being so,
I will no longer tarry on this plain;
But let them give me battle on Moy Wee
If so they will. And still, whate’er we say,
Let some one go from us to view yon plain,
The great wide plain of Meath, that we may know
Whether as yet the men of Ulster come
Upon that plain; and if indeed they come,
We will not flee unto our rath, it being
Unkingly so to flee before a foe.”
“Who shall go forth to view the plain?” asked each.
“Who but Mac Roth, who is chief-messenger
Of Erin all,” said Al-yill; “he stands here.”
Mac Roth went forth to view and to survey
The clear, wide plain of Meath. Anon he heard,
Floating from far away, a muffled roar,
A crackling, thunderous murmur, and deep din
Of many mingled sounds. It seemed to him
To mean no trifling thing—rather it seemed
That the secure and solid firmament
Descended on the firm face of the earth,
Or that the boundless and blue-breasted sea
O’erflowed the thick-haired forehead of the world,
Or that the earth itself trembled and moved
In some tremendous earthquake; or, at least,
That the primeval and huge forest trees
Fell, each upon the other, caught and grasped
Each by the other’s forked and branching boughs.
One thing was certain: the wild forest-beasts
Were from the distant forest fleeing forth,
So that the heath and grass of the wide plain
Might not be seen beneath them. And Mac Roth
Went to relate his tidings at the place
Where Maev and Al-yill were, and Fergus was
With all the chiefs. And there he told his tale.
“What may that mean, O Fergus?” questioned Maev.
“Not difficult,” said Fergus. “The dim roar,
And crackling, thunderous murmur which he heard
Mean that the northern warriors have awaked
From their long Kesh, and now with sword and axe
Attack the ancient forest, hewing there
A road before their chariots; and all beasts
Who in the forest dwell flee forth in fright,
So that the heath and grass of the wide plain
May not be seen beneath them.”
Once again
Mac Roth went forth to view the plain. He saw,
Hovering far away ’twixt earth and sky,
A long, grey mist. It seemed to him he saw,
Rising from out the hollows and the dells
Of the dim mist, clear eminences, firm,
And like dark isles in silver-hollow lakes.
He thought that he discerned in the forefront
Of the same mist, deep, groaning caves and dens;
And, at their openings, fair, white linen cloths
Blown by the wind; or a white fairy snow
Soft drifting by. And then he seemed to see,
Fluttering through the mist, a scattered flock
Of various birds, all strange and wonderful;
And seemed again to see that the same mist
Was spangled all along, as with bright sparks
Of newly-kindled fire, or as with stars,
Clear-shining on a bright, still night of frost.
And while he gazed he heard a growing roar
Of mingled booming, crying, thundering,
With shrill, sharp snaps and thuds, ringings and cheers,
All floating towards him on the eastern wind.
And he returned and came unto the place
Where Maev and Al-yill were, and Fergus was,
With all the chiefs: and there he told his tale.
“What may that mean, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked.
“Not difficult,” said Fergus; “that grey mist,
Which rose between the heaven and the earth,
Was the white, cloudy breath of steeds and men,
Fiercely expelled, and mingled with the sand
And whirling dust and soilure of the plain.
Those little darkling heights and crests he saw,
Peeping from out the hollows of the mist—
They were the heads of kings and mighty men,
High-towering o’er their chariots. And the dens
And deep engulfing caverns he discerned—
They were the mouths and nostrils of the steeds
And mighty men, opened, distended wide,
Strongly respiring the free air and wind.
And what unto Mac Roth seemed fairy snow
Or linen-web was the white foam and froth
Flung from the bridle-bits of fiery steeds,
Urging their course with strength and vehemence.
Again, what to Mac Roth seemed flocks of birds,
All varied, numerous, strange, and wonderful,
Were the quick turves and sods shot from the hooves
Of the same fiery steeds as on they come.
And all the mingled uproar that he heard
Was the loud shield-cry of the mighty shields,
The hissing of the spears, ringing of swords,
Clangour of helmets, friction manifold
Of high-suspended weapons, and, besides,
Creaking of cords and ropes, grinding of wheels,
Tramping of steeds, and, through and over all,
The ceaseless tread of battle-warriors there,
Swift marching towards us o’er the plain of Meath.
Lastly, the brilliant spanglings which he saw,
Like stars of night, or sparks from ruddy fire—
Those were the terrible and flaming eyes
Of heroes and of warriors gleaming bright
Beneath their shapely helmets. Angrily
They shine and glow. And this I say to you,
There ne’er have been, and ne’er will be again,
Men like to those Ultonian men for fury
And battle-anger and the rage of war.”
“We care but little for all this,” said Maev;
“With us there are good youths and fighting-men
Who will know how to greet them.”
“Think not so,”
Said Fergus; “this is truth and not a lie—
That not in Erin, not in all the world,
From Greece and Scythia to the Isles of Orc
And Isles of Gat, and south to Bregan’s Tower,
May ye find hosts to quell Ultonian hosts,
Whose rage and anger have been once aroused.”
That day the men of Erin left their camp
In Slane of Meath; and, moving towards the west,
Encamped at night in Clahra. When the sun
Rose the next morn and shined with glowing face
Above the fair-banked edges of the world—
“Good now, O men of Erin!” Al-yill said;
“Let some one go from us to view the plain—
The great wide plain of Meath; and let him see
Whether the men of Ulster yet have come
To Slane of Meath where we were yesterday;
And let him bring to us a true account
Of all their arms and war-accoutrements,
Their kings and heroes and their well-known chiefs,
Their breakers of great rifts in battle-ranks,
With all their troops from all their different lands.
To hear these all described will be to us
A pastime and will while away the morn.”
“Who then shall go?” they asked. “Who but Mac Roth?”
Said Al-yill. So Mac Roth went forth once more;
And he took up his post in Slane of Meath,
Over against the men of Ulster there.
From early morning till the evening fell,
The Ulster hosts arrived in Slane of Meath.
So great their numbers that in all that time
The land was ne’er left naked, but was clothed
By moving throngs. All orderly they came;
For every throng surrounded its own king,
And every band its lord. Each chief and lord,
With the full muster of his hosting, camped
In a clear place apart. When evening fell,
All had arrived and camped in Slane of Meath.
Mac Roth delayed not till the night had come,
But, when the first three powerful bands arrived,
Returned to tell his tale. “Good now, Mac Roth,”
Said Al-yill; “in what order do they come,
And who came first?” “I know not,” said Mac Roth,
“But first there came an ardent, stalwart band
Of very noble aspect. I esteemed
Their numbers to be thrice three thousand. All,
Quick flinging off their raiment, dug the earth,
And lifted sods, and raised a mighty mound
High on the rounded summit of a hill,
To be a seat and station for their lord.
And he, their lord, was tall and thinly-built,
Courteous and proud, of princeliest way and style,
Accustomed to command and to restrain,
And awful was his kingly gleaming eye.
His yellow bush of crispéd drooping hair;
His trimly forking beard; his crimson fooan,
Folding five times about him; the gold pin
Above his breast; the layna next his skin,
Of purest white, adorned with threads of gold,
Were all of princely mode. He wore, besides,
A white-bright shield, adorned with monstrous beasts
In deep red gold. In the one hand he bore
A golden-hilted sword, and in the other
A wide, grey spear. This warrior took his seat
High on the mound, and calmly waited there
Till all the rest should come; and his own troop
Sat down there round about him. Next there came
Two bands of thirty hundred, both alike
In discipline and number and array.
The man who led the first of these had hair
And beard like crispéd gold. His warrior’s layna,
Of good brown-red with gold embroidery,
Descended to his knees; and over it
He wore a greenish bratt, with silver clasp.
Besides his shield and ivory-hilted sword
With golden thread-work, in his hand he bore
A shining spear secured with silver bands
And clasps of gold; and marvellous the games
Played by that spear held in the warrior’s hand;
For first the silver bands whirled and revolved
Over the clasps of gold from butt to socket,
And after that the clasps of gold revolved
Above the bands of silver back again.
This warrior sat upon the left-hand side
Of the great chief who earliest reached the hill;
And his own band sat round him. ‘Sat,’ I said,
Nay, but with knee to ground and shield to chin,
They waited to spring towards us. One thing more,
The leader of that band—he with the spear—
Wore on his head a mĭnd of glorious gold.
The second of those two companion-bands
Was ruled o’er by a man sedate, grey-haired,
With wide, white brow, and shrewd and kindly eyes.
About his chin there hung a long, grey beard,
Forking and slender. And his fair apparel
Was all of silvery white and darkest grey.
For dark grey was his bratt with leafy brooch
Of white findrinny; and of purest white
The layna next his skin. His shield was white,
Adorned with silver. At his shoulder’s height
I saw a bough of bronze. This warrior sat
High on the mound in presence of the chief
Who first arrived there; and I say to you,
Sweeter than murmuring of crested harps
In hands of skilful players was the sound
Of that man’s voice discoursing with the chief
Who came first to the hill, and giving him
Wise admonition and discreet advice.”
“Who may these be, O Fergus?” Al-yill said.
“Assuredly, I know,” said Fergus; “he,
For whom was raised a mighty mound of sods
Where he might sit till all the rest should come,
Was Conor son of Fahtna Fahee son
Of Ross the Red-haired son of Rury More—
Conor, high-king of Ulster, and the son
Of a high-king of Erin. He who came
And sat on Conor’s left, and wore a mĭnd
Of glorious gold, was Cooscree Mend of Maha,
From Innish Cooscree. He is Conor’s son,
And leads into the war the youthful sons
Of lesser Ulster kings, besides the sons
Of kings of Erin in his fosterage.
The wondrous spear he has, with silver bands
And clasps of gold, is known as Cooscree’s Candle.
And this, now, is the manner of that spear—
The bands of silver never do revolve
Around the clasps of gold but at a time
When some great prey is nigh. I therefore think
They now revolve in sight of some huge prey
And near-approaching slaughter. And for him,
The wide-browed, gentle hero who did sit
In Conor’s presence, and did speak with him,
Who could that be but Shenca? he who owns
The sweetest oratory and eloquence
Of all the men of Erin; he whose words
Of eloquence and oratory calm
The hosts of Ulster; he who with three words
Might calm the war and tumult of the world.
Howbeit, I give my word that at this time
They are no timorous counsels which he gives
Unto his lord, but counsels to fight well,
And do great deeds of battle and of courage.
Yea, and I give my word,” Fergus exclaimed,
“They are deed-doing men who woke from sleep,
Round about Conor at earliest dawn to-day!”
“I make no great account of them,” said Maev;
“With us there are good youths and fighting-men,
Who will know how to greet them.”
“Nay, not so,”
Said Fergus; “this is truth and not a lie,—
That not in Erin, not in all the world,
From Greece and Scythia to the Isles of Orc
And Isles of Gat, and south to Bregan’s Tower,
May ye find hosts to quell Ultonian hosts,
Whose rage and anger have been once aroused.”
Once more Mac Roth went out from them to view
The wide great plain of Meath. He watched each band
Arrive in Slane of Meath. When all had come,
Almost at meeting-point of night with day,
He came again with tidings to the place
Where Maev and Al-yill were, and Fergus was,
With all the chiefs, there to relate his tale.
“There came another band unto that hill
In Slane of Meath,” Mac Roth continued then.
“It is no lie; with raging impetus
They gained that hill; and heavy was the dread,
And huge the terror they conveyed. Their cloaks
Streamed in the air behind them. In their front
I saw a valorous leader, whose huge head
Was streaked with sparse, grey hairs; and in that head
Blazed yellow, full, large eyes. A yellow bratt
Fell round about him; and a pin of gold
Was in that o’er his breast. A yellow layna
Lay next his skin. A wide, long-shafted spear
Was in that warrior’s hand. A drop of blood
Gleamed on its edge.” “What man was that, O Fergus?”
Al-yill demanded. “Well I know,” said Fergus.
“Nor single challenger nor mighty host
Escapes that hero who approaches there;
For that is Laery the Victorious, son
Of Connud Boy, the son of that same Illiah,
Who of late came from Immil in the north,
And in his old age died assailing you.”
“There came another band to that same hill,”
Mac Roth went on. “A great thick-sided man
Commanded it. In truth, it little wanted
But that each brawny leg and limb of him
Was thicker than a mean man’s trunk! No lie!
He is indeed a man! Brown, bushy hair
He had upon him; and beneath the hair
A scarred, blue-crimson face, and in the face
High-up, bright-speckled eyes. He was, moreover,
Noble and energetic. All his men
Were dark-skinned, dark-eyed; and their red-bronze spears
Flamed bright. They seemed not subject unto Conor.”
“Who is that, Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know,
In truth I know,” said Fergus. “He, who there
Approaches, is as one embodied thirst
For battle. He is a great lord of arms
Above the men of Erin in the north;
For he is my own foster-brother, Fergus
The son of Leddy, from his wealthy rath
In fertile green Moy Linny of the north.”
“There came another band unto that hill,”
Mac Roth went on. “A four-square, bull-like man
Commanded it; and he had bulging eyes,
Grey, and set low down in his head. His hair
Was curled and yellow; and a scarlet shield,
Rimmed with hard silver, made a huge, bright disk
Behind his head and shoulders. In his hand
He held a smooth, long spear. A grayish bratt
Fell round him, and a copper yō secured it
Above his mighty chest. His hooded layna,
Being up-girded, reached but to his thighs.
Upon his left leg was a short, straight dagger.”
“Who was that, Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know,”
Said Fergus. “He is a stockade of battle
Against the face of all of you who go there;
For he is Connud the great son of Morna,
From green-banked, gentle Callan in the north.”
“There came another band unto that hill,”
Mac Roth went on, “and they were firm of tread,
And wondrously and diversely attired.
A beautiful, unresting hero led
That band; and he was robed in fine blue cloth,
Which was adorned with stooags of findrinny,
And at the openings of the garment bore
Rich red gold buttons of distinctive stamp
And character. Outside he wore a bratt
Freaked out with every privileged tint and hue.
He had five wheels of gold, namely, his shield.
He had a dagger-straight, hard sword. His spear,
Ridgéd and straight, flamed redly in his hand.”
“Who might that be, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked.
“In truth, I recognize him,” Fergus said.
“He is the choicest of all kingly poets;
He is a road of learning and of wisdom;
For he is Avverguin the great, good poet,
And son of Ecket, the old smith and brazier—
Avverguin from the Bush in the far north.”
“There came another band unto that hill,”
Mac Roth continued. “Two soft, tender youths
Went in the forefront of that band. Two bratts
Of greenish hue were round them; two cassawns
Of whitest silver clasped these o’er their breasts;
Two laynas of smooth, yellow silk were next
Their bird-white skin; and two white-hilted swords
Hung at their girdles. Two five-barbéd spears
With silver rings were in their hands. There seemed
But little difference in age between them.”
“Who were those two, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked.
“I know indeed,” said Fergus. “Two of one counsel,
Two of one teaching, two alike in valour,
Two fires, two flames, two torches equal burning,
Two Ulster champions always next their king.
Those there are Feeaha and Feeacna,
Two sons of Conor son of Fahtna son
Of Ross the Red-haired son to Rury More.”
“Another band arrived upon that plain,”
Mac Roth continued; “and it was commanded
By a white-chested, very comely hero,
Much like to Al-yill there in form and style,
In strength and whiteness, in array and arms,
In bounty and in valour. On his head
He wore a mĭnd of gold. His shield was rimmed
With gold. His sword-hilt was adorned with gold.
His towering, five-barbed spear had gold upon it.”
“Who was that hero, Fergus?” Al-yill asked.
“I know that hero,” Fergus said. “His heart
Is hard as is a flagstone, yet it has
The rage of fire. He drives his enemies,
E’en as a charioteer drives two swift steeds;
For he is Foorbee Faerbenn son of Conor,
From Conor’s own Moy Innish in the north.”
“There came another band unto that plain,”
Mac Roth went on. “An all-white, powerful hero
Commanded it. His eyes and hair and beard,
His raiment and accoutrements, were all
Of the one whiteness. Only his great shield
Was rimmed with yellow gold, and his long sword
Was golden-hilted. His tall five-barbed spear,
Held in his hand, showed high o’er all the hosts.”
“Who may that be, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked,
“Know’st thou perchance?” “Indeed, I know,” said Fergus.
“Belovéd in our country of the north
Is that white hero who draws near you there;
Belovéd is that bear of blows and combats;
Belovéd is that mountain-bear of actions;
That is white Faeradah, the just and famous,
From Nemud in Slieve Fooid in the north.”
“Another band arrived upon that hill,”
Mac Roth went on. “A big and stalwart man
Walked in its front. Red, fiery-tinted hair
Was on him; and huge, fiery-tinted eyes
Blazed in his head. He wore a mottled bratt.
His shield was green; his spear rose thin and blue;
His troop around him was all gory-red;
And he himself amidst them was all red,
Bloody, and scarred with numerous hurts and wounds.”
“Who was that man, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked.
“I know him well,” said Fergus. “He, indeed,
Is an illustrious, kinglike beast of combat.
He is a raging bull, blocking a pass;
He is the challenger of Inver Colpa,
And is the fortress-gate to all north Erin;
For he is Mend son of Salcolgan, and hails
From the north sand-spits of the white-bright Boyne.
’Tis to avenge the prey which you have taken
That he now comes against you,” Fergus said.
“There came another band unto that plain,”
Mac Roth went on. “In its forefront I saw
A corpulent, thick-throated hero,—black
His hair, and bushy, and his face all scarred
And crimson. Brightly sparkled his green eyes
Within his head. His spear had guarded eyelets.
His black shield had a rim of hard findrinny.
His bratt was of chill grey, clasped with pale gold.
A layna of striped silk lay next his skin.
His sword, which was adorned with carven bone
And twisted work of golden threads, he wore
Upon the outside of his raiment.” “Who
Was that, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know,”
Said Fergus. “He is as a spring-tide wave
Drowning small gentle streams upon the shore.
He is thick-necked Munn-rower son of Guerkind,
From the Mourne Territory in the north.”
“There came another band unto that plain,”
Mac Roth said. “Verily they seemed to be
In multitude, a huge and drowning flood;
In ardour, a red flame; in strength, a cliff;
In violence, a thunderstorm; in force,
A winter-torrent. In their front I saw
A raging, hideous warrior; and he
Had great ears, a great nose, and apple-eyes,
And rough, grey hair. He wore a striped grey bratt
Pinned o’er his breast by a huge iron spike,
Which reached from shoulder unto shoulder. Next
His skin he had a rough and streaky layna.
There was on him a big brown hill—his shield.
At one side of his back he bore a sword
Of seven pieces of well-tempered iron.
He carried in his hand a great, grey spear,
With thirty sewings through its eye-holes. Truly,
Whoe’er he was, some folk amongst the hosts
Already at that hill fell down with fear,
At seeing that terrific warrior come
With his own band about him.”
“Who was that,
O Fergus?” Al-yill asked. “I know, indeed,”
Said Fergus. “He is as an ocean-flood
Whelming the solid land—that man who comes
There, with his band about him. He is Keltar,
The mighty Keltar son of Oo-hider,
From his own doon, Le-Glass in the east-north.”
“There came another band unto that hill
In Slane of Meath,” Mac Roth said. “It was bold
And powerful, and it was rude and dreadful;
And at its head I saw a big-mouthed man,
The measure of his mouth being like the measure
Of mouths of stallions. He was big of belly,
Blind of one eye, and with a low, flat head,
And had long arms. His hair was frizzed and brown.
His bratt was black, with surface napped and teazled,
And was secured by a round wheel of bronze.
He wore a layna with distinctive markings,
And a long sword, and a thick-studded shield.”
“Who was that man, O Fergus?” Al-yill asked.
“I know,” said Fergus. “He who there approaches
Is a red-handed and a raging lion.
He is one cruel thirst for blood and combat;
For he is Aerrga Ecbael—Aerrga Horse-mouth,—
From his own stead, Bree Aerrga, in the north.”
“Another band arrived upon that hill,”
Mac Roth continued. “And there could not be
A man-at-arms more beautiful than he
Who led that band. His figure was erect
And tall and evenly proportioned, broad
Of shoulder, narrow-hipped, white-skinned. His face
Was broad above and narrowed towards the chin;
And in the face his clear, blue, brilliant eyes
Burned like two candles. His two lips were red
And thin. His teeth gleamed like clear pearls. His hair
Of a rich yellow-red fell thick and free.
This warrior was arrayed in a full bratt
Of crimson, fastened by a yō of gold.
His layna was of kingly srōl, embroidered
With bright, red gold. He bore a pure, white shield,
Whereon were tortuous beasts of gold. His sword
Was golden-hilted; and his spear was long,
Grey-edged, and done with rivets of findrinny.”
“Who is that warrior, Fergus?” Al-yill asked.
“I know,” said Fergus, “and ye know well, too.
That man is a half-battle to each one
Who goes there. He himself is a battalion.
He is your kin by marriage. He it is
Who slept with your own daughter, Findabair;
So that the Munster princes rose in wrath,
And many men were slain, and she thereafter
Died for pure shame and generous feeling towards them.
For that is Ro-hee son of Faha-win,
From his own doon, from Reedonn in the north.”
“There came another band unto that hill,”
Mac Roth continued. “In their style and mode
They differed from all other bands which came.
For some men wore red bratts and some wore blue.
Some bratts were of pure white and some were green,
And some were blay or yellow; all alike
Were beautiful and streamed upon the wind.
’Midst of that troop I saw a little lad
With ruddy, freckled face, and crimson bratt
Fixed by a yō of gold. Of kingly srōl
His little layna was, and it was done
With broidery of gold. His small, white shield
Bore figured beasts of gold, and had its rim
And central boss of gold. A golden hilt
His sword had; and a little, light, sharp spear
Held in his hand, rose high above his head.”
“Who may those be?” asked Al-yill. Fergus said:
“I cannot recognize their style or mode,
Nor know I such a royal child in Ulster;
But there is one thing that I think. I think
Those are the men of kingly Tara, coming
Round about Erc, the son of Fedilmid
The Freshly-blooming One, great Conor’s daughter.
Erc is the son of Carpry Neea Faer,
High-king of Tara, brother and ally
To Al-yill there; yet think not that that child
Comes, as a kinsman comes, to aid or help you.
Without his father’s leave I think he comes
To aid his mother’s father. And,” said Fergus,
“If I am right in my surmise, a herd
Trampling green crops that band will be to you.
Loudly and wrathfully those mighty bulls
Will roar, the while they guard the tender calf
Of their own queenly heifer, in the fight
Of Gawrig in the morning of to-morrow.”
“There came another band unto that hill,”
Mac Roth went on. “Controlling it, I saw
Three purple-faced and anger-kindled men
Of honourable rank. Each had thick hair
Of pale blay-yellow; and their ample bratts
Were all alike, and were secured by pins
Of brightest gold. Bright gold embroidery
Adorned their three neat laynas. Their three shields
Were all alike. A golden-hilted sword
Each wore upon his thigh; in his right hand
Each grasped a grey, wide spear.”
“Who were those, Fergus?”
Asked Al-yill. “Three good chieftains of Moy Cova,
Three heroes of the Road of Meed-lougher,
Three lords of Cooley, three revered old men
Of the east quarter of Slieve Foo-id,” said Fergus.
“They are the three famed sons of Feeacna,
The three good guardians of the bull, whose names
Are Dawra and Ross and Im-ha,” Fergus said.
“There came another band unto that hill
In Slane of Meath,” Mac Roth said. “It was last
Of all the bands; and it contained not fewer
Than thirty hundred. They were bright, clean warriors,
And ruddy-cheeked, with long, light-yellowish hair.
Their countenances seemed to glow. Their eyes
Were bright and kingly. Garments glossed and bright
Were held by golden pins. Their blue-white spears
Shined like pure glass, flashing in the clear air.
Their shields were yellow, threatening dangerous blows.
Their swords were golden-hilted. As these came,
Clamour of grief broke from each man of them;
Sad, moanful mourning had invaded them;
Sorrowful there seemed each mean combatant;
And each high, kingly chief was sorrowful.
Their heads were bowed with sorrow and with pain.
Bereaved seemed that bright host illustrious,
Orphaned of him who should have governed them.”
“Who are those, then?” said Al-yill unto Fergus.
“Truly we know, then,” Fergus answered him.
“Those are fierce lions, lions of a battle;
Those are the cantred out of Moy Mweerhevna.
And this it is which makes them bowed of head,
And sorrowful and void of joy—their being
Without their own young, native king amongst them,
Without Cucullin, red of sword, commanding,
Battle-victorious and battle-triumphing.”
“There is enough of cause for them,” said Maev,
“However scant of joy and sorrowful,
And grieved at heart and downcast they may be.
There is no ill we have not done to them.
We were despoiling, burning, reaving them
From Sowin unto Spring-tide. We have taken
Their wives and tender sons and little ones,
Their steeds and flocks of mares, their troops of kine,
Their herds of every sort of grazing kine.
And we have not alone burned to the grass
Their strongly-timbered houses, wide and fair;
But their high, fortified green mounds, whereon
Those houses were, we have so levelled down,
That all their glens and trenches are filled up
After our track. And their unrivalled bull,
Their wondrous Donn of Cooley, we have taken
Away from them, to bring with us to Croohan.”
“O Maev, thou hast therein no ground,” said Fergus,
“For triumphing or boasting o’er those men.
There is no ill that thou hast done to them,
The which the leader of that able band
Hath not avenged upon thee. For each grave,
Each flagstone, and each high, sepulchral mound,
Between the ford wherein Faerdeeah fell
And the east shore of Erin, is the grave
Or flagstone, or high, bare sepulchral mound
Of some good hero and good combatant,
After his slaying by the noble leader
Of that same band we speak of. Well for those
For whom these strive in battle! Woe for those
Whom they contend against! They will be equal
To half a battle for the men of Erin,
While they contend for their own lord and king
Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig,
In battle in the morning of to-morrow.”
Mac Roth went on: “I heard a grievous cry
Somewhere to westward of the battle-hosts,
Or else to eastward; it was not amidst them.”
“What was that cry, then?” Al-yill asked of Fergus.
“Truly, we know that,” Fergus answered him.
“That was Cucullin, who, after his striving
To rise and come and take his share in battle,
Was being forcibly laid supine down
Upon his sick man’s sod and sod of healing,
Underneath hazel-boughs and hooks and ropes.
The men of Ulster will not let him come,
Owing to his sore hurts and harms and wounds;
Because he is not fit for fight or combat
After his fight and combat with Faerdeeah.”
That thing was true which Fergus said to them.
It was Cucullin, who had striven to rise,
Being again with force laid supine down
Upon his sick man’s sod and sod of healing,
Underneath hazel-boughs and hooks and ropes.
Hearing that thus he lay, bound to his bed,
Two poison-tongued, searing she-satirists,
Fehan and Collac, namely, now went forth
From out the encampment of the men of Erin,
Till they were falsely crying and bewailing
Beside Cucullin, crying unto him
Of Ulster routed, Conor slain, and Fergus
Slain in return in the great field of battle.
This was the night wherein the fierce More-reega
Daughter of Ernmas came in the doleful dark,
Between their two wide camps, inciting them
The one against the other. She was heard
To call these words, there, in the dark and gloom:
“Ravens shall pick the throats of men to-morrow.
Strife is promoted. Blue-mouthed bives shall scream,
Hovering o’er breasts of prostrate men of Erin.
Welcome, Ultonians! Memorable, feastful,
Will be the slaughter of the flesh of men
Upon these fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig
In battle in the morning of to-morrow.”
BOOK XV
BOOK XV
So, in a high hill-nook on Fedain Collna,
’Mid whitening bushes of wild, spiky thorn,
Cucullin lay, held to his sick-man’s bed
By hooks and ties and crooks. Through night’s dark shades
He heard the red More-reega’s calls and cries,
The blood-cries of the bitter-throated Bive.
Then, in the first grey whiteness of day’s light,
He called and said to his own charioteer,
Namely, to Laeg the son of Ree-angowra:
“O my friend Laeg,” he said, “through many a noon
Thou hast been guarding and protecting me
In my deep sleep in gaps and ways of danger;
And thou hast been a prince of charioteers.
It will be shameful to thee, truly, now,
If aught shall happen on yon field to-day,
On one side or the other, of the which
Thou hast for me no knowledge.” “Aught,” said Laeg,
“That I may know myself, O Cucucawn,
Shall be made known to thee. And now,” said Laeg,
“E’en in the first grey whiteness of day’s light,
Out of the camp upon the west I see
A herd of kine stray eastward. And I see
A band of gillies speed upon the plain
To hinder them and turn them; and I see
Out of the camp upon the east a band
Of beardless gillies speed upon that plain
To take the kine and capture them.” “’Tis true,”
Cucullin said. “That is a true beginning
Of a great contest and a good contention.
The herd of kine goes forth upon the plain;
The gillies from the west and from the east
Will clash together round the herd; and soon
The kings and battle-warriors will be roused,
And the great day of battle will begin.”
That thing was true which thus Cucullin said.
The little herd went forth upon the plain.
The gillies from the east and from the west
Clashed and encountered round the herd. “O Laeg,”
Cucullin asked, “who is now giving battle?”
“The young folk out of Ulster,” Laeg made answer.
“In what way fight they there?” Cucullin asked.
“’Tis manfully that there they fight,” said Laeg,
“Contending for that herd.” Cucullin said:
“Alas! that I have not my battle-strength
To go to them and help their gillie-fray!
Had I my strength, then clear and evident
My breach would be before them there this hour!”
“Comfort thyself, my Cucucawn,” said Laeg.
“This is no shame unto thy battle-honour,
No stain unto thy valour. Thou didst well
Before this hour; thou wilt do well hereafter.”
“Yet, O my friend, O Laeg,” Cucullin said,
“Arouse the men of Ulster towards this battle.
’Tis indeed time for them to rise.” Laeg went
To arouse the men of Ulster towards that battle.
Amidst the tents, amidst the sleeping hosts,
He spake his rhapsody of rousing words,
Bidding them wake and rise. “Arise,” he said,
“Arise with speed, deed-doing kings of Maha!
Arise with strength of valorous hero-deeds.
In all wide Erin there was never found
One like Cucullin son of Sooaltim,
Who hath defended you and fought for you,
And is laid, now, low with red, bitter wounds.
To save the captives and the kine of Cooley,
To-day with strength of valorous deeds arise!”
And all the men of Ulster in that camp,
Together, in obedience to their kings,
And in obedience to their chiefs and princes,
Roused by these words of rising served to them
Aloud by Laeg the son of Ree-angowra,
Rose as one man; and in this wise they rose—
Naked, save only for their sharp-edged weapons
Held in their hands; and every man whose tent
Opened to eastward, westward through his tent
Tore his way out, he deeming it too long
To circuit round the tent. And Laeg returned.
Cucullin said: “How rise the men of Ulster
Now toward the battle, O my friend, O Laeg?”
“Full manfully,” said Laeg, “for thus they rise,
Quite bare, quite naked, save for their sharp weapons
Held in their hands,” said Laeg, “and he whose tent
Opens to eastward, westward through his tent
Tears his way forth, because it seems to him
It were too long to make the circuit round it.”
“O Laeg,” Cucullin answered, “they are men
And kingly heroes who have risen there
Round about Conor at dawn of day to-day!
To say so is not overmuch!”
Howbeit,
This was the time when Conor son of Fahtna,
On his own mound of camping, where he was,
Said to wise-worded Shenca: “Go, O Shenca,
Utter thy cry of knowledge and white wisdom
Amidst the Ultonians. Let them not fare forth
Into this fight before the strength and omen
Of happy fortune shall have come to us,—
Until the radiance of the sun shall rise
Into the cloud-built rafters of the sky,
And fill with light each knoll and slope and hill
And hollow vale and glen throughout wide Erin.”
And the hosts tarried at the voice of Shenca
Speaking that cry of knowledge and white wisdom,—
Until the radiance of the sun arose
O’er the green-sided, chosen earth, and rose
Into the cloud-built rafters of high heaven,
And filled with light each glen throughout that Fifth.
“Good, O my friend, O Shenca,” Conor said;
“Arouse the Ultonians for the battle. Now
It is the time for them to rise.” And Shenca
Aroused them; and he spake these words of rising.
“Arise!” he said, “deed-doing kings of Maha!
Generous people! let the blood-red battle
Be fought by you. Let shields be rent in twain.
Let streams of blood flow beneath feet of men.
Let edgéd weapons be ground down. Let earth
Be angrily dug up. O men! O kings!
Let grief and sorrow fill the hearts of queens.
Let the Bive drink her crimson, bitter drink.
Arise! If only for your Bull of Cooley,
Arise! With strength of hero-deeds, arise!”
And Laeg was not long watching in his place
Ere he saw somewhat; for he saw the hosts
Of the men of Ulster and the men of Erin
Rise as one man. Above their heads they raised
The brown-sharp forests of their shining spears;
And they marched forth, each chief of them inciting
And heartening his own battle-troop. Ere long,
Upon the lands called Gawrig those two hosts
Clashed into combat; and they fell to smiting,
To hewing down, dismembering and maiming,
To slaying and to slaughtering each the other,
For a long while and a great space of time.
This was the hour wherein Cucullin said
To his own charioteer, even to Laeg
(For a bright, lustrous cloud was o’er the sun):
“Look for us, O my friend, O Laeg, how now
Fight the Ultonians in that battle.” Laeg
Replied: “’Tis manfully that there they fight.
For were I now to mount my battle-chariot:
Were Aen, the charioteer of Conall Carna,
To mount his own; and were we, side by side,
To drive our chariots from the one battle-wing
E’en to the other, o’er the points of weapons,—
Not hoof or wheel or hind-shaft would touch ground,—
Owing to the true closeness, sureness, firmness,
Wherewith their warrior-weapons are held firm
In hands of Ulster warriors at this hour.”
“’Tis grievous that I am not now of strength,”
Cucullin said, “to be amidst them there!
Were I of strength, then clear and evident
My battle-breach would be, e’en like the breaches
Which other warriors on that plain of battle
Will make amidst their foemen’s hosts this day!”
“Comfort thyself, O Cucucawn,” said Laeg.
“This is no shame unto thy battle-honour,
No stain unto thy valour. Thou didst well
Before this hour. Thou wilt do well hereafter.”
The hosts of Ulster and the hosts of Erin
Held still to battle-striking and to smiting,
To hewing down, dismembering and maiming,
To slaying and to slaughtering each the other,
For a long while and a great space of time.
This was the hour when, with great urgency,
The Helping Triads of the men of Erin
Arrived to help the battle. But the share
Which Maev, when they arrived, allowed to them,
Was this alone, namely, to render sure
The slaying of great Conor son of Fahtna,
If upon him the battle should be broken;
And, on the other part, to render sure
The safe retreat of Al-yill and herself,
If upon them there should be rout and flight.
And of these Triads of the men of Erin
There were three Abrat-rooas of Loch Ree:
There were three Mahn-yas of the Land of Murrisc:
There were three Lussens out of Looahar:
There were three Fintans from the Plain of Femen:
There were three each of very many names.
Now was the hour when, with great urgency,
Three battle-castles, three huge battle-wheels,
Arrived from Ulster, having come to Ulster
Over the many-billowed, white-foamed sea,
From a land nearer to the sunrise. Each
Of those huge battle-castles, those Bive’s-folds,
Was cased with shining shields; and each one bristled
With black, smooth, pine-long spears and blue-grey swords;
And each one had four doors sprinkled with gems,
So that from far they seemed like groups of stars;
And each was filled with men having round shields;
And each was drawn by full-maned, high, great steeds;
And o’er the three there flew three flocks of birds,
Whereof one flock was red and one was white
And one was black like ravens. And three bives,
Red-mouthed and black, circled around those towers
Amidst the air, and prophesied and sang;
And this is what they sang around those towers:
“Swaths of the battle—swaths and sheaves of slain.
Force of compelling. Terrible the deed.
Towers of Slaughter. Ravens shall be full.
Flood-red the ground. Men in the clay. Long swaths.
Swaths of the battle. Swaths and sheaves of slain.”
And Maev perceived those battle-castles come.
She, in the first grey whiteness of day’s light,
Had risen, and had ridden round her hosts
Three times, that she might know whether each band
Was fierce and terrible and well-arrayed
And active and prepared for valiant deeds.
And when the great, wide battle had begun,
She, from her mound of watching and of battle,
Had watched, and she had seen that neither side
Had gained advantage o’er the other side.
Then, when she saw those battle-castles come,
She said within herself: “If now in Fergus
The son of Roy there was that rage and ardour
Which was within him, when, in former days,
He broke great battle-rifts in distant lands—
He, notwithstanding yon strange battle-towers,
Would break this battle on the men of Ulster,
So that they should be driven hence to-day
With shame; and so that Conor here should fall.”
And then it was that she addressed to Fergus
Her rousing words; and she said these words there:
“O royal warrior of the world, O Fergus,
There was a time, of which men oft have spoken,
When ’midst the heroes of the western world,
There was not any greater than thyself
In valour and in prowess and in battle.
Thou, by thy prowess, brokest thirty battles
O’er chiefs in distant lands, e’en to the City
Of Moorn encircled by its wall of fire
In the far distant isle of ice and snow.
Thou, when thou wast with Esorb, King of Spain,
Didst go, with hosts and multitudes of Spain,
To Soda, King of Africa, and tookest
A city of the warlike folk of Carthage
By strength of war. There was none like to thee;
And all men spoke of thy renown and glory.
And then, because thou didst appear to him
Too great to be in the one Fifth with him,
Conor the son of Fahtna Fahee drove thee
Forth from thy place, with contumely and shame.
Much he deceived thee and insulted thee.
He slew the brightest Candles of the Gael
While they were underneath thy guard and honour.
There is no theme for jest and mockery
In Avvin and in Ulster and in Erin,
Save this—thy cringing to the men of Ulster
After they so have scorned and driven thee.
Tell me, O royal warrior of the world,
Whither have gone that great renown and power
And strength of hero-deeds which once were thine—
So that men now account thee not at all
When there is need of valour and achievements
And hero-power?”
These were Maev’s words to Fergus.
And with great joy she saw his wrath of rage
Come to his face, until it made his face
Red like pure, crimson flame. “Truly,” said Fergus,
“By all the gods by whom my people swear
I swear that if I had my sword to-day,
Skull-rooves of men should fly from cheeks of men;
Middles of men should break from thighs of men;
Fore-arms of men should part from arms of men;
And throats of men should fall with throats of men;
And fists of men should fall with fists of men;
And heads of men should fall with ears of shields;
Until they should be even as great in number
As hailstones on a plain ’twixt two dry greens,
Round which a high-king’s kingly steeds might race
On a fresh morn in spring. To east and west,
Through me, with heads and limbs of the Ultonians,
If I obtain my sword!”
This was the time
When Al-yill said unto his charioteer,
Namely, unto Faer-loga: “Let that sword
Which destroys skin come to me now, O gillie;
And I aver that if ’tis worse with thee
To-day in bloom and tendance than it was
Upon that day on which thou tookest it
In Cooley,—then, although the hosts of Erin
And Alba should attempt to save thee from me,
They should not save thee.” And Faer-loga went,
And brought with him the sword beneath its glory
Of gentle tendance, and beneath its flaming
Of flame-like radiance. And the sword was given
Into the hand of Al-yill, and by Al-yill
Was straightway placed into the hand of Fergus.
And Fergus made great joy before his sword.
“My love to thee!” he said, “O Caladcolg!
O sword of Leddy!—And on whom,” said Fergus,
“Shall it now play?” “On the great hosts,” said Maev,
“Around thee on the field on every side.
And let not anyone obtain from thee
Forgiveness or protection there to-day,
Unless he be some true friend who obtains it.”
Fergus then took his weapons, and he went
Forth to the battle; and the first great deed
Which he performed there was to clear a gap
Of a hundred with that sword, the Caladcolg,
In his two hands. And Al-yill took his weapons;
Maev took her weapons; and they each fared forth
Into the battle, into that great battle
Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig—
Into the last great battle of the Táin.
And Fergus played upon the Ulster hosts
The singing of his sword, so that the battle
Was three times routed toward the north before him;
Until those battle-castles from a land
Nigh to the sunrise, with their dreadful Coo-al
Of spears and swords, wheeled toward the men of Erin,
And three times forced and drove them backward.
Now,
Conor the son of Fahtna heard that thing
In his own place of battle where he was,
Namely, that thus the battle had been routed
Against him three times toward the north. ’Twas then
That Conor said to his own warrior-household,
The inward heart of the Creev Roe in Avvin:
“Keep ye this place a little, O ye men,”
He said to them, “this place in which I am,
That I myself may go to learn by whom
The battle has been three times driven and routed
So, toward the north, against us.” And ’twas then
That his own household answered him with fervour
And dearness. “We will keep this place,” they said.
“The heaven is above us and the earth
Is underneath us and the blue-rimmed sea
Is round us in a circuit. And unless
The firmament with all its showers of stars
Shall fall upon the firm face of the earth,—
Unless the many-furrowed, blue-rimmed sea
Shall veil the thick-haired forehead of the world,—
Unless the earth shall break and yawn beneath us,—
We will not yield a thumb’s breadth in retreat
Backward, till thou shalt come to us again,
Or till we shall be slain.” Then Conor went
Forth to that place, where, as he had been told,
The battle had been three times driven and routed
Against him toward the north. And it was there—
Even amid the hard-fought, crowded battle—
That a shield struck a shield. The shield of Fergus
Struck the Ō-hawn´, the many-victoried,
Great shield of Conor, which had four peaked ears
Of gold, and four ridged borders of red gold.
And Fergus struck his three Bive’s slaughter-blows
Against the shield of Conor; and thereat
The great Ō-hawn´, the shield on Conor, moaned;
And when it moaned, the three surge-waves of Erin,
The Wave of Rury and the Wave of Cleena
And the far northern Wave of Thoo-ig Inver,
Moaned through the air athwart the lands of Erin
In answer to the shield. And all the shields
Amidst the men of Ulster in that hour,
Upon their shoulders or within their chariots,
Moaned through the air across the plain of battle
In answer to the shield of Conor. Yet,
However great the valour and the power
Wherewith that warrior, Fergus, struck the shield
On Conor,—yet so great the battle-strength
And hero-power were wherewith the King
Maintained the shield against him—that the ear
Of the Ō-hawn´ ne’er touched the king’s own ear.
“Alas! O men,” said Fergus, “who is he
That can thus hold his shield against me here,
On this my day of vengeance and of battle—
Here where the Five Great Fifths of Erin meet
Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig—
Here in the last great battle of the Táin?”
“Leave thou this place, O Fergus,” Conor said.
“He who is here is younger and more perfect
Than thou art; and his mother and his father
Were better born than thine. He who is here
Is he who drove thee from thy patrimony
And from thy land and thine inheritance.
It is the man who put thee in the dwelling
Of hares and foxes and wild, forest deer.
It is the man who left thee not so much
As thine own stride of all thy fields and lands.
It is the man who put thee to be kept
And to be paid and ordered by a woman.
It is the man who violated thee
Concerning the three Candles of the Gael,
Slaying beneath thy very word and safeguard
Those three unfaithful, valorous sons of Usna,
Who had deprived him of his dearest jewel.
It is the man who will now beat thee back
In presence of these mighty hosts and throngs—
Conor the son of Fahtna Fahee son
Of Ross the Red-haired son of Rury More—
High-king of Ulster and distinguished son
Of a High-king of all the realms of Erin.”
And Fergus heard these words which Conor said.
Then ’midst his wrath of rage and battle-anger
And strength of ire, he held in memory
Those words he once had said in Avvin Maha,
Namely, that e’en if Conor should betray him,
And violate his honour and his safeguard
(A thing which he was sure would ne’er be done),
He would not seek the king’s own blood or flesh;
Though there was not another man in Ulster
Who should insult his honour and his safeguard
And from his hands should not obtain red death.
This was the promise which he once had given.
Yet this, indeed, is truth and not a lie,
Namely, that e’en had he ne’er given that promise,
It would have seemed an evil thing to Fergus
To seek to slay that king whom he had loved
In happy days in smooth-bright Avvin Maha—To
slay the High-king of his own dear land,
The land of Ulster. Then he turned his anger
Away from Conor; and he turned his anger
Against the Ulster hosts on every side
Throughout the battle. He hurled back his sword,
The Caladcolg, till its point touched the ground
Behind him, that he so might strike with it
Its three enchanted blows of doom and judgment
Upon the Ulster hosts on every side,
That so the dead amidst those hosts of Ulster
Might number more e’en than their quick should number;
(Because that sword from out the Shee was thus:
When a true warrior’s hands would strike with it
Its three enchanted blows of doom and judgment,
It would put on the curve and length and sheen
Of a rainbow in the air).
That now was seen
By Conor’s exiled son, Cormac Conlingish,
The head of the Black Exile; and he made
A rush as of the quick spring-wind, approaching
Fergus; and he closed his forearms round him.
“Unfriendly, and not friendly, were that deed!
Un-native, and not native, were that deed!
Of out-lands, not of Ulster, were that deed!
My master, Fergus!” Cormac said to him;
“And, O my tutor and my master, Fergus,
Let not the men of Ulster now be slain
By thy three blows of doom. Rather, O Fergus,
Think of the honour of thy native land,
Think of the honour of the men of Ulster,
E’en in thy day of vengeance and of battle.”
“Leave me! Away from me! O son,” said Fergus;
“Because I shall not live unless I strike
My three enchanted blows of doom and judgment
Upon the hosts of Ulster here to-day,
So that the dead amidst the hosts of Ulster
May number more e’en than their quick shall number.”
“Bend thy hand sideways, O my master, Fergus,”
Cormac Conlingish said, “and cut the hills
Which are beside this field and plain of battle;
And it will ease thy warrior-wrath of rage.”
Fergus delayed a moment; then he said:
“Let Conor son of Fahtna then return
To his own place of battle where he was.”
And Cormac said to Conor: “Go, my father,
To thine own place of battle where thou wast;
Because this man will not put forth his wrath
Now on the men of Ulster in this place.”
And Conor turned and went to his own place,
Where he had been. And Fergus bent his hand
Sideways; and o’er the heads of the great hosts
With the curved sword from out the Shee he struck
His three enchanted blows of doom and judgment
Upon the hills, which were beside the plain;
And struck their summits from the three low hills—That
those three Maels of Meath might be for men
A sign of shame and of reproach to Ulster
Even until the ending of all time.
And it was thus that Fergus son of Roy
And Conor son of Fahtna separated
Upon this Táin.
And so the wrath of Fergus
Was one part suaged; but still he made his path
A path of reddening; and his warrior-slaughters
Were still unscanty.