[FN#37] Pronounced Looch-ra: Tara Luachra is on the borders of Limerick and Kerry.



THE EXILE OF THE SONS' OF USNACH



INTRODUCTION

The version given in the following pages of the well-known tale of Deirdre has been translated from the Irish text of the Book of Leinster version as printed by Windisch in Irische Texte, vol. i. Readings from the two parallel texts of the Book of Lecan, and Egerton, 1782, have been used where the Leinster text is deficient or doubtful, but the older MS. has in the main been followed, the chief alterations being indicated in the notes. The only English translation hitherto given of this version is the unreliable one in Atlantis, vol. iii. There is a German translation in Thurneysen's Sagen aus dem alten Irland which may be consulted for literal renderings of most of the verse portions, which, however, are sometimes nearer the original than Thurneysen's renderings.

It was at first intended to place beside this version the much better known version of the tale given by the Glenn Masain manuscript and its variants; but, as this version is otherwise available in English,[FN#38] it has been thought better to omit most of it: a verse translation of Deirdre's final lament in this version has, however, been added for the purpose of comparing it with the corresponding lament in the Leinster text. These two poems are nearly of the same length, but have no other point in common; the lament in the Leinster version strikes the more personal note, and it has been suggested that it shows internal evidence that it must have been written by a woman. The idea of Deirdre as a seer, which is so prominent in the Glenn Masain version of the tale, does not appear in the older Leinster text; the supernatural Druidic mist, which even in the Glenn Masain version only appears in the late manuscript which continues the story after the fifteenth-century manuscript breaks off, does not appear in the Book of Leinster; and the later version introduces several literary artifices that do not appear in the earlier one. That portion of the Glenn Masain version immediately following after Deirdre's lament is given as an instance of one of these, the common artifice of increase of horror at a catastrophe by the introduction of irrelevant matter, the tragedy of Deirdre's death being immediately followed by a cheerful account of the relationships of the chief heroes of the Heroic Period; a still better example of this practice in the old Irish literature is the almost comic relief that is introduced at the most tragic part of the tale of the murder of the son of Ronan.

[FN#38] See Irische Texte, vol. ii., and the Celtic Review, vol. i. 1904-1905.



THE EXILE OF THE SONS OF USNACH



BOOK OF LEINSTER VERSION

In the house of Feidlimid,[FN#39] the son of Dall, even he who was the narrator of stories to Conor the king, the men of Ulster sat at their ale; and before the men, in order to attend upon them, stood the wife of Feidlimid, and she was great with child. Round about the board went drinking-horns, and portions of food; and the revellers shouted in their drunken mirth. And when the men desired to lay themselves down to sleep, the woman also went to her couch; and, as she passed through the midst of the house, the child cried out in her womb, so that its shriek was heard throughout the whole house, and throughout the outer court that lay about it. And upon that shriek, all the men sprang up; and, head closely packed by head, they thronged together in the house, whereupon Sencha, the son of Ailill, rebuked them: "Let none of you stir!" cried he, "and let the woman be brought before us, that we may learn what is the meaning of that cry." Then they brought the woman before them, and thus spoke to her Feidlimid, her spouse:

What is that, of all cries far the fiercest, In thy womb raging loudly and long? Through all ears with that clamour thou piercest; With that scream, from Bides swollen and strong: Of great woe, for that cry, is foreboding my heart; That is torn through with terror, and sore with the smart.

[FN#39] Pronounced Feylimid.

Then the woman turned her, and she approached Cathbad[FN#40] the Druid, for he was a man of knowledge, and thus she spoke to him:

[FN#40] Pronounced Cah-ba.

Give thou ear to me, Cathbad, thou fair one of face, Thou great crown of our honour, and royal in race; Let the man so exalted still higher be set, Let the Druid draw knowledge, that Druids can get. For I want words of wisdom, and none can I fetch; Nor to Felim a torch of sure knowledge can stretch: As no wit of a woman can wot what she bears, I know naught of that cry from within me that tears.

And then said Cathbad:

'Tis a maid who screamed wildly so lately, Fair and curling shall locks round her flow, And her eyes be blue-centred and stately; And her cheeks, like the foxglove, shall glow. For the tint of her skin, we commend her, In its whiteness, like snow newly shed; And her teeth are all faultless in splendour And her lips, like to coral, are red: A fair woman is she, for whom heroes, that fight In their chariots for Ulster, to death shall be dight.

'Tis a woman that shriek who hath given, Golden-haired, with long tresses, and tall; For whose love many chiefs shall have striven, And great kings for her favours shall call. To the west she shall hasten, beguiling A great host, that from Ulster shall steal: Red as coral, her lips shall be smiling, As her teeth, white as pearls, they reveal: Aye, that woman is fair, and great queens shall be fain Of her form, that is faultless, unflawed by a stain.

Then Cathbad laid his hand upon the body of the woman; and the little child moved beneath his hand: "Aye, indeed," he said, "it is a woman child who is here: Deirdre shall be her name, and evil woe shall be upon her."

Now some days after that came the girl child into the world; and then thus sang Cathbad:

O Deirdre! of ruin great cause thou art; Though famous, and fair, and pale: Ere that Felim's hid daughter from life shall part, All Ulster her deeds shall wail.

Aye, mischief shall come, in the after-time, Thou fair shining maid, for thee; Hear ye this: Usna's sons, the three chiefs sublime, To banishment forced shall be.

While thou art in life, shall a fierce wild deed In Emain, though late, be done: Later yet, it shall mourn it refused to heed The guard of Rog's powerful son.

O lady of worth! It is to thee we owe That Fergus to exile flies; That a son of king Conor we hail in woe, When Fiachna[FN#41] is hurt, and dies.

O lady of worth! It is all thine the guilt! Gerrc, Illadan's son, is slain; And when Eogan mac Doorha's great life is spilt, Not less shall be found our pain.

Grim deed shalt thou do, and in wrath shalt rave Against glorious Ulster's king: In that spot shall men dig thee thy tiny grave; Of Deirdre they long shall sing.

[FN#41] Pronounced Feena.

"Let that maiden be slain!" cried out the young men of Ulster; but "Not so!" said Conor; "she shall in the morning be brought to me, and shall be reared according to my will, and she shall be my wife, and in my companionship shall she dwell."

The men of Ulster were not so hardy as to turn him from his purpose, and thus it was done. The maiden was reared in a house that belonged to Conor, and she grew up to be the fairest maid in all Ireland. She was brought up at a distance from the king's court; so that none of the men of Ulster might see her till the time came when she was to share the royal couch: none of mankind was permitted to enter the house where she was reared, save only her foster-father, and her foster-mother; and in addition to these Levorcham, to whom naught could any refuse, for she was a witch.

Now once it chanced upon a certain day in the time of winter that the foster-father of Deirdre had employed himself in skinning a calf upon the snow, in order to prepare a roast for her, and the blood of the calf lay upon the snow, and she saw a black raven who came down to drink it. And "Levorcham," said Deirdre, "that man only will I love, who hath the three colours that I see here, his hair as black as the raven, his cheeks red like the blood, and his body as white as the snow." "Dignity and good fortune to thee!" said Levorcham; "that man is not far away. Yonder is he in the burg which is nigh; and the name of him is Naisi, the son of Usnach." "I shall never be in good health again," said Deirdre, "until the time come when I may see him."

It befell that Naisi was upon a certain day alone upon the rampart of the burg of Emain, and he sent his warrior-cry with music abroad: well did the musical cry ring out that was raised by the sons of Usnach. Each cow and every beast that heard them, gave of milk two-thirds more than its wont; and each man by whom that cry was heard deemed it to be fully joyous, and a dear pleasure to him. Goodly moreover was the play that these men made with their weapons; if the whole province of Ulster had been assembled together against them in one place, and they three only had been able to set their backs against one another, the men of Ulster would not have borne away victory from those three: so well were they skilled in parry and defence. And they were swift of foot when they hunted the game, and with them it was the custom to chase the quarry to its death.

Now when this Naisi found himself alone on the plain, Deirdre also soon escaped outside her house to him, and she ran past him, and at first he know not who she might be.

"Fair is the young heifer that springs past me!" he cried.

"Well may the young heifers be great," she said, "in a place where none may find a bull."

"Thou hast, as thy bull," said he, "the bull of the whole province of Ulster, even Conor the king of Ulster."

"I would choose between you two," she said, "and I would take for myself a younger bull, even such as thou art."

"Not so indeed," said Naisi, "for I fear the prophecy of Cathbad."

"Sayest thou this, as meaning to refuse me?" said she.

"Yea indeed," he said; and she sprang upon him, and she seized him by his two ears. "Two ears of shame and of mockery shalt thou have," she cried, "if thou take me not with thee." "Release me, O my wife!" said he.

"That will I."

Then Naisi raised his musical warrior-cry, and the men of Ulster heard it, and each of them one after another sprang up: and the sons of Usnach hurried out in order to hold back their brother.

"What is it," they said, "that thou dost? let it not be by any fault of thine that war is stirred up between us and the men of Ulster."

Then he told them all that had been done; and "There shall evil come on thee from this," said they; "moreover thou shalt lie under the reproach of shame so long as thou dost live; and we will go with her into another land, for there is no king in all Ireland who will refuse us welcome if we come to him."

Then they took counsel together, and that same night they departed, three times fifty warriors, and the same number of women, and dogs, and servants, and Deirdre went with them. And for a long time they wandered about Ireland, in homage to this man or that; and often Conor sought to slay them, either by ambuscade or by treachery; from round about Assaroe, near to Ballyshannon in the west, they journeyed, and they turned them back to Benn Etar, in the north-east, which men to-day call the Mountain of Howth. Nevertheless the men of Ulster drave them from the land, and they came to the land of Alba, and in its wildernesses they dwelled. And when the chase of the wild beasts of the mountains failed them, they made foray upon the cattle of the men of Alba, and took them for themselves; and the men of Alba gathered themselves together with intent to destroy them. Then they took shelter with the king of Alba, and the king took them into his following, and they served him in war. And they made for themselves houses of their own in the meadows by the king's burg: it was on account of Deirdre that these houses were made, for they feared that men might see her, and that on her account they might be slain.

Now one day the high-steward of the king went out in the early morning, and he made a cast about Naisi's house, and saw those two sleeping therein, and he hurried back to the king, and awaked him: "We have," said he, "up to this day found no wife for thee of like dignity to thyself. Naisi the son of Usnach hath a wife of worth sufficient for the emperor of the western world! Let Naisi be slain, and let his wife share thy couch."

"Not so!" said the king, "but do thou prepare thyself to go each day to her house, and woo her for me secretly."

Thus was it done; but Deirdre, whatsoever the steward told her, was accustomed straightway to recount it each even to her spouse; and since nothing was obtained from her, the sons of Usnach were sent into dangers, and into wars, and into strifes that thereby they might be overcome. Nevertheless they showed themselves to be stout in every strife, so that no advantage did the king gain from them by such attempts as these.

The men of Alba were gathered together to destroy the sons of Usnach, and this also was told to Deirdre. And she told her news to Naisi: "Depart hence!" said she, "for if ye depart not this night, upon the morrow ye shall he slain!" And they marched away that night, and they betook themselves to an island of the sea.

Now the news of what had passed was brought to the men of Ulster. "'Tis pity, O Conor!" said they, "that the sons of Usnach should die in the land of foes, for the sake of an evil woman. It is better that they should come under thy protection,[FN#42] and that the (fated) slaying should be done here, and that they should come into their own land, rather than that they should fall at the hands of foes." "Let them come to us then," said Conor, "and let men go as securities to them." The news was brought to them.

[FN#42] Literally, "It is better their protection, and their slaying, and coming for them to their own land, &c." If this reading is right (and three MSS. agree), the extended words of the text seem to give the intention: it is, however, possible that the reading should be, "It is better their protection than their slaying" (oldaas for ocus), which would make sense at once. The idea of the text seems to be that the sons of Usnach were, owing to Cathbad's prophecy, thought of as fated men; and it was only a question where they should be put to death.

"This is welcome news for us," they said; "we will indeed come, and let Fergus come as our surety, and Dubhtach, and Cormac the son of Conor." These then went to them, and they moved them to pass over the sea.

But at the contrivance of Conor, Fergus was pressed to join in an ale-feast, while the sons of Usnach were pledged to eat no food in Erin, until they had eaten the food of Conor. So Fergus tarried behind with Dubhtach and Cormac; and the sons of Usnach went on, accompanied by Fiacha, Fergus' son; until they came to the meadows around Emain.

Now at that time Eogan the son of Durthacht had come to Emain to make his peace with Conor, for they had for a long time been at enmity; and to him, and to the warmen of Conor, the charge was given that they should slay the sons of Usnach, in order that they should not come before the king. The sons of Usnach stood upon the level part of. the meadows, and the women sat upon the ramparts of Emain. And Eogan came with his warriors across the meadow, and the son of Fergus took his place by Naisi's side. And Eogan greeted them with a mighty thrust of his spear, and the spear brake Naisi's back in sunder, and passed through it. The son of Fergus made a spring, and he threw both arms around Naisi, and he brought him beneath himself to shelter him, while he threw himself down above him; and it was thus that Naisi was slain, through the body of the son of Fergus. Then there began a murder throughout the meadow, so that none escaped who did not fall by the points of the spears, or the edge of the sword, and Deirdre was brought to Conor to be in his power, and her arms were bound behind her back.

Now the sureties who had remained behind, heard what had been done, even Fergus and Dubhtach, and Cormac. And thereon they hastened forward, and they forthwith performed great deeds. Dubhtach slew, with the one thrust of his spear, Mane a son of Conor, and Fiachna the son of Feidelm, Conor's daughter; and Fergus struck down Traigthren, the son of Traiglethan, and his brother. And Conor was wrath at this, and he came to the fight with them; so that upon that day three hundred of the men of Ulster fell and Dubhtach slew the women of Ulster; and, ere the day dawned, Fergus set Emain on fire. Then they went away into exile, and betook them to the land of Connaught to find shelter with Ailill and Maev, for they knew that that royal pair would give them good entertainment. To the men of Ulster the exiles showed no love: three thousand stout men went with them; and for sixteen years never did they allow cries of lamentation and of fear among the Ulstermen to cease: each night their vengeful forays caused men to quake, and to wail.

Deirdre lived on for a year in the household of Conor; and during all that time she smiled no smile of laughter; she satisfied not herself with food or with sleep, and she raised not her head from her knee. And if any one brought before her people of mirth, she used to speak thus:

Though eager troops, and fair to see,[FN#43] May home return, though these ye wait: When Usna's sons came home to me, They came with more heroic state.

With hazel mead, my Naisi stood: And near our fire his bath I'd pour; On Aindle's stately back the wood; On Ardan's ox, or goodly boar.

Though sweet that goodly mead ye think That warlike Conor drinks in hall, I oft have known a sweeter drink, Where leaps in foam the waterfall:

Our board was spread beneath the tree, And Naisi raised the cooking flame: More sweet than honey-sauced to me Was meat, prepared from Naisi's game.

[FN#43] A literal rendering of this poem will be found in the notes, p. 187.

Though well your horns may music blow, Though sweet each month your pipes may sound, I fearless say, that well I know A sweeter strain I oft have found.

Though horns and pipes be sounding clear, Though Conor's mind in these rejoice, More magic strain, more sweet, more dear Was Usna's Children's noble voice.

Like sound of wave, rolled Naisi's bass; We'd hear him long, so sweet he sang: And Ardan's voice took middle place; And clearly Aindle's tenor rang.

Now Naisi lies within his tomb: A sorry guard his friends supplied; His kindred poured his cup of doom, That poisoned cup, by which he died.

Ah! Berthan dear! thy lands are fair; Thy men are proud, though hills be stern: Alas! to-day I rise not there To wait for Usna's sons' return.

That firm, just mind, so loved, alas! The dear shy youth, with touch of scorn, I loved with him through woods to pass, And girding in the early morn.

When bent on foes, they boded ill, Those dear grey eyes, that maids adored; When, spent with toil, his troops lay still, Through Irish woods his tenor soared.

For this it is, no more I sleep; No more my nails with pink I stain: No joy can break the watch I keep; For Usna's sons come not again.

For half the night no sleep I find; No couch can me to rest beguile: 'Mid crowds of thoughts still strays my mind; I find no time to eat or smile.

In eastern Emain's proud array No time to joy is left for me; For gorgeous house, and garments gay, Nor peace, nor joy, nor rest can be.

And when Conor sought to soothe her; thus Deirdre would answer him:

Ah Conor! what of thee! I naught can do! Lament and sorrow on my life have passed: The ill you fashioned lives my whole life through; A little time your love for me would last.

The man to me most fair beneath the sky, The man I loved, in death away you tore: The crime you did was great; for, till I die, That face I loved I never shall see more.

That he is gone is all my sorrow still; Before me looms the shape of Usna's son; Though o'er his body white is yon dark hill, There's much I'd lavish, if but him I won.

I see his cheeks, with meadow's blush they glow; Black as a beetle, runs his eyebrows' line; His lips are red; and, white as noble snow I see his teeth, like pearls they seem to shine.

Well have I known the splendid garb he bears, Oft among Alba's warriors seen of old: A crimson mantle, such as courtier wears, And edged with border wrought of ruddy gold.

Of silk his tunic; great its costly price; For full one hundred pearls thereon are sewn; Stitched with findruine,[FN#44] bright with strange device, Full fifty ounces weighed those threads alone.

Gold-hilted in his hand I see his sword; Two spears he holds, with spear-heads grim and green; Around his shield the yellow gold is poured, And in its midst a silver boss is seen.

Fair Fergus ruin on us all hath brought! We crossed the ocean, and to him gave heed: His honour by a cup of ale was bought; From him hath passed the fame of each high deed.

If Ulster on this plain were gathered here Before king Conor; and those troops he'd give, I'd lose them all, nor think the bargain dear, If I with Naisi, Usna's son, could live.

Break not, O king, my heart to-day in me; For soon, though young, I come my grave unto: My grief is stronger than the strength of sea; Thou, Conor, knowest well my word is true.

"Whom dost thou hate the most," said Conor, "of these whom thou now seest?"

"Thee thyself," she answered, "and with thee Eogan the son of Durthacht."

[FN#44] Pronounced find-roony; usually translated "white bronze."

"Then," said Conor, "thou shalt dwell with Eogan for a year;" and he gave Deirdre over into Eogan's hand.

Now upon the morrow they went away over the festal plain of Macha, and Deirdre sat behind Eogan in the chariot; and the two who were with her were the two men whom she would never willingly have seen together upon the earth, and as she looked upon them, "Ha, Deirdre," said Conor, "it is the same glance that a ewe gives when between two rams that thou sharest now between me and Eogan!" Now there was a great rock of stone in front of them, and Deirdre struck her head upon that stone, and she shattered her head, and so she died.

This then is the tale of the exile of the sons of Usnach, and of the Exile of Fergus, and of the death of Deirdre.



THE LAMENT OF DEIRDRE OVER THE SONS OF USNACH



ACCORDING TO THE GLENN MASAIN VERSION

ALSO THE CONCLUSION OF THE TALE FROM THE SAME VERSION

I grieved not, Usna's sons beside; But long, without them, lags the day: Their royal sire no guest denied; Three lions from Cave Hill were they.

Three dragons bred in Mona's fort Are dead: to them from life I go; Three chiefs who graced the Red Branch Court, Three rocks, who broke the rush of foe.

O loved by many a British maid! O swift as hawks round Gullion's peak! True sons of king, who warriors swayed, To whom bent chiefs in homage meek.

No vassal look those champions wore; Full grief is mine that such should die! Those sons, whom Cathbad's daughter bore; Those props, who Cualgne's[FN#45] war held high.

[FN#45] Pronounced Kell-ny.

Three bears of might, to war they came; From Oona's walls, like lions, burst; Three hero-chiefs, who loved their fame; Three sons, on Ulster's bosom nursed.

Twas Aife[FN#46] reared them; 'neath her yoke A kingdom bowed, and tribute brought; They propped the war, when armies broke, Those foster-sons, whom Scathach[FN#47] taught.

The Three, who once from Bohvan's skill All feats have learned that heroes know; King Usna's glorious sons! 'tis ill That these afar from me should go.

That I should live, with Naisi dead, Let none such shame believe of me; When Ardan's life, when Ainnle's fled, But short my life I knew would be.

Great Ulster's king my hand had won; I left him, Naisi's love to find; Till Naisi's funeral rites be done, I wait a little while behind.

This widowed life no more I'll bear; The Three rejoiced, when toil they faced; Where'er 'twas found, the war they'd dare, And proffered fight with joy embraced.

A curse on Cathbad's wizard spell! 'Twas Naisi's death! and I the cause! None came to aid that king, who well To all the world might grant his laws.

[FN#46] Pronounced Eefa.

[FN#47] Pronounced Ska-ha.

O man, who diggest low the grave, And from my sight my love would hide, Make wide the tomb; its room I crave, I come to seek my hero's side.

Great load of hardship I'd endure with joy, If yet those heroes my companions were; No lack of house or fire could then annoy, No gloom I'd know with them, nor aught of care.

Ah! many a time each shield and guardian spear To make my couch have piled those noble Three: O labouring man, their grave who diggest here, Their hardened swords above well set should be.

The hounds of all the Three their masters lack, Their hawks no quarry leave, nor hear their call; The three are dead, who battle's line held back Who learned their skill in Conall Cernach's hall!

Their hounds I view; from out my heart that sight Hath struck a groan; behind their leashes trail, 'Twas mine to hold them once, and keep them tight;, Now slack they lie, and cause me thus to wail.

Oft in the desert I and they have strayed, Yet never lonely was that desert known For all the Three a grave to-day is made, And here I sit, and feel indeed alone.

I gazed on Naisi's grave, and now am blind, For naught remains to see; the worst is spent; My soul must leave me soon, no help I find, And they are gone, the folk of my lament.

'Twas guile that crushed them: they would save my life And died therefor; themselves three billows strong: Ere Usna's children fell in cruel strife, Would I had died, and earth had held me long!

To Red-Branch Hall we made our mournful way; Deceitful Fergus led; our lives he stole; A soft sweet speech indeed he'd learned to say, For me, for them was ruin near that goal.

All Ulster's pleasures now are nothing worth I shun them all, each chief, each ancient friend; Alone I sit, as left behind on earth, And soon my lonely life in death shall end.

I am Deirdre, the joyless, For short time alive, Though to end life be evil, 'Tis worse to survive.

And, after she had made this lament, Deirdre seated herself in the tomb, and she gave three kisses to Naisi before that he was laid in his grave; and with heaviness and grief Cuchulain went on to Dun Delga. And Cathbad the Druid laid a curse upon Emain Macha to take vengeance for that great evil, and he said that, since that treachery had been done, neither king Conor nor any other of his race should hold that burg.

And as for Fergus, the son of Rossa the Red, he came to Emain Macha on the morrow after the sons of Usnach had been slain. And, when he found that they had been slain, and that his pledge had been dishonoured, he himself, and Cormac the Partner of Exile, king Conor's own son, also Dubhtach, the Beetle of Ulster, and the armies they had with them, gave battle to the household of Conor; and they slew Maine the son of Conor, and three hundred of Conor's people besides. And Emain Macha was destroyed, and burned by them, and Conor's women were slain, and they collected their adherents on every side; the number of their host was three thousand warriors. And they went away to the land of Connaught, even to Ailill the Great, who was the king of Connaught at that time, and to Maev of Croghan, and with them they found a welcome and support. Moreover Fergus and Cormac the Partner of Exile and their warriors, after that they had come to the land of Connaught, never let pass one single night wherein reavers went not forth from them to harry and burn the land of Ulster, so that the district which men to-day call the land of Cualgne was subdued by them; and from that in the after-time came between the two kingdoms much of trouble and theft; and in this fashion they spent seven years, or, as some say, ten years; nor was there any truce between them, no, not for one single hour.

And while those deeds were doing, Deirdre abode by Conor in his household for a whole year after the sons of Usnach had been slain. And, though it might have seemed but a small thing for her to raise her head, or to let laughter flow over her lips, yet she never did these things during all that time. And when Conor saw that neither sport nor kindness could hold her; and that neither jesting nor pleasing honour could raise her spirits, he sent word to Eogan the son of Durthacht, the lord of Fernmay;[FN#48] as some tell the story, it was this Eogan who had slain Naisi in Emain Macha. And after that Eogan had come to the place where Conor was, Conor gave command to Deirdre that, since he himself had failed to turn her heart from her grief, she must depart to Eogan, and spend another space of time with him. And with that she was placed behind Eogan in his chariot, and Conor went also in the chariot in order to deliver Deirdre into Eogan's hand. And as they went on their way, she cast a fierce glance at Eogan in front of her, and another at Conor behind her; for there was nothing in all the world that she hated more than those two men. And when Conor saw this, as he looked at her and at Eogan, he said: "Ah Deirdre! it is the glance of a ewe when set between two rams that thou castest on me and on Eogan!" And when Deirdre heard that, she sprang up, and she made a leap out of the chariot, and she struck her head against the stony rocks that were in front of her, and she shattered her head so that the brains leapt out, and thus came to Deirdre her death.

[FN#48] The Irish is Fernmag; written Fearnmhuidh in the late manuscript of this part of the tale.

This is the Tree of their race, and an account of the kinships of some of the Champions of the Red Branch, which is given here before we proceed to speak of the Deeds of Cuchulain:

'Twas Cathbad first won Magach's love, and arms around her threw; From Maelchro's loins, the Battle Chief, his princely source he drew; Two, more in love she knew, of these the wrath was long and dread, Fierce Rossa, named the Ruddy-Faced, and Carbre, thatched with red.

To all the three were children born, and all with beauty graced, To Cathbad, and to Carbre Red, and Rossa Ruddy-faced; A gracious three indeed were they to whom she gave her love, Fair Magach, brown the lashes were that slept her eyes above.

Three sons to Rossa Ruddy-faced as children Magach bore; To Carbre sons again she gave, the count of these was four; And three white shoots of grace were hers, on these no shame shall fall; To Cathbad children three she bare, and these were daughters all.

To Cathbad, who in wizard lore and all its arts had might, Three daughters lovely Magach bore, each clothed in beauty white; All maids who then for grace were famed in grace those maids surpassed, And Finuchoem,[FN#49] Ailbhe twain he named, and Deithchim named the last.

[FN#49] Pronounced Finn-hoom, Ail-vy, and Die-himm.

To Finnchoem, wizard Cathbad's child, was born a glorious son, And well she nursed him, Conall wild, who every field hath won; And Ailbhe glorious children bare in whom no fear had place, These Ardan, Ainnle, Naisi were, who came of Usnach's race.

A son to Deithchim fair was born, a bright-cheeked mother she; She bore but one: Cuchulain of Dun Delga's hold was he: Of those whom Cathbad's daughters reared the names full well ye know, And none of these a wound hath feared, or therefore shunned a foe.

The sons of Usnach, who like shields their friends protected well, By might of hosts on battle-field to death were borne, and fell; And each was white of skin, and each his friends in love would hold, Now naught remains for song to teach, the Third of Griefs is told.



THE COMBAT AT THE FORD



INTRODUCTION

This version of the "Combat at the Ford," the best-known episode of the Irish romance or romantic epic, the "War of Cualnge," will hardly be, by Irish scholars, considered to want a reference. It is given in the Book of Leinster, which cannot have been written later than 1150 A.D., and differs in many respects from the version in the fourteenth-century Book of Lecan, which is, for the purposes of this text, at least equal in authority to the Leabbar na h-Uidhri, which must have been written before 1100 A.D. Mr. Alfred Nutt has kindly contributed a note on the comparison of the two versions, which has been placed as a special note at the end of the translation of the "Combat." To this note may be added the remark that the whole of the Leabhar na h-Uidhri version of the "War of Cualnge" seems, to be subject to the same criticisms that have to be passed on the "Sickbed" and the "Courtship of Etain" in the same volume, viz. that it is a compilation from two or three different versions of the same story, and is not a connected and consistent romance, which the version in the Book of Leinster appears to be. As an illustration of this, the appearance of Conall Cernach as on the side of Connaught in the early part of the L.U. version may be mentioned; he is never so represented in other versions of the "War." In the description of the array of Ulster at the end of L.U., he is noted as being expected to be with the Ulster army but as absent (following in this the Book of Leinster, but not a later manuscript which agrees with the Book of Leinster in the main); then at the end of the L.U. version Conall again appears in the Connaught army and saves Conor from Fergus, taking the place of Cormac in the Book of Leinster version. Miss Faraday, in her version of the "War" as given in L.U., notes the change of style at page 82 of her book. Several difficulties similar to that of the position of Conall could be mentioned; and on the whole it seems as if the compiler of the manuscript from which both the Leabhar na h-Uidhri and the Yellow Book of Lecan were copied, combined into one several different descriptions of the "War," one of which is represented by the Book of Leinster version.

This version shows no signs of patchwork, at any rate in the story of the "Combat at the Ford;" which has, ever since it was reintroduced to the world by O'Curry, been renowned for the chivalry of its action. It forms one of the books of Aubrey de Vere's "Foray of Queen Meave," and is there well reproduced, although with several additions; perhaps sufficient attention has not. been paid to the lofty position of the character, as distinguished from the prowess, that this version gives to Cuchulain. The first verse, put in Cuchulain's mouth, strikes a new note, contrasting alike with the muddle-headed bargaining of Ferdia and Maev, and the somewhat fussy anxiety of Fergus. The contrast between the way in which Cuchulain receives Fergus's report of the valour of Ferdia, and that in which Ferdia receives the praises of Cuchulain from his charioteer, is well worked out; Cuchulain, conscious of his own strength, accepts all Fergus's praises of his opponent and adds to them; Ferdia cannot bear to hear of Cuchulain's valour, and charges his servant with taking a bribe from his enemy in order to frighten him. Ferdia boasts loudly of what he will do, Cuchulain apologises for his own confidence in the issue of the combat, and gently banters Fergus, who is a bit of a boaster himself, on the care he had taken to choose the time for the war when king Conor was away, with a modest implication that he himself was a poor substitute for the king. Cuchulain's first two stanzas in the opening dialogue between himself and Ferdia show a spirit quite as truculent as that of his opponent; the reason of this being, as indicated in the first of these stanzas and more explicitly stated in the preceding prose, that his anxiety for his country is outweighing his feeling for his friend; but in the third stanza he resumes the attitude of conscious strength that marks all his answers to Fergus; and this, added to a feeling of pity for his friend's inevitable fate, is maintained up to the end of the tale. In the fourth stanza, which is an answer to a most insulting speech from Ferdia, he makes the first of those appeals to his former friend to abandon his purpose that come from him throughout the first three days of the fight; even in the fatal battle of the fourth day, he will not at first put forward all his strength, and only uses the irresistible Gae-Bulg when driven to it by his foe. The number of Cuchulain's laments after the battle—there are five of these (one in prose), besides his answers to Laeg—has been adversely criticised; and it is just possible that one or more of these come from some other version, and have been incorporated by a later hand than that of the author; but the only one that seems to me not to develop the interest is the "brooch of gold," which it may be noticed is very like the only lament which is preserved in the Book of Lecan text of the L.U. version. Cuchulain's allusion to Aife's only son in the first verse lament is especially noticeable (see note, p. 196).

Ferdia's character, although everywhere inferior to that of his victor, is also a heroic one; he is represented at the commencement of the episode as undertaking the fight for fear of disgrace if he refused; and this does appear to be represented throughout as the true reason; his early boasts and taunts are obviously intended to conquer a secret uneasiness, and the motif of a passion for Finnabar with which Cuchulain charges him hardly appears outside Cuchulain's speeches, and has not the importance given to it in the Leabhar na h-Uidhri version. The motif of resentment against Cuchulain for a fancied insult, invented by Maev, which is given in the L.U. version as the determining cause, does not appear in the Leinster version at all; and that of race enmity of the Firbolg against the Celt, given to him by Aubrey de Vere, is quite a modern idea and is in none of the old versions. His dialogue with Maev suggests that, as stated in the text, he was then slightly intoxicated; his savage language to his servant gives the idea of a man who feels himself in the wrong and makes himself out to be worse than he is by attributing to himself the worst motives, the hope of pay; but as the battle proceeds he shows himself equal to Cuchulain in generosity, and in the dialogue at the beginning of the third day's fight his higher character comes out, for while his old boastfulness appears in one passage of it, and is immediately repressed, the language of both heroes in this dialogue is noticeable for a true spirit of chivalry. The mutual compliments, "thy kingly might," "fair graceful Hound" "gently ruling Hound" recall the French "Beausire"; it may be also noted that these compliments are paid even when Ferdia is protesting against Cuchulain's reproaches; similar language is used elsewhere, as "much thine arms excel" (page 122), and "Cuchulain for beautiful feats renowned" (page 134). It may be considered that these passages are an indication that the episode is late, but it should be noticed that the very latest date that can possibly be assigned to it, the eleventh century, precedes that of all other known romances of chivalry by at least a hundred years. To this later attitude of Ferdia, and to that maintained by Cuchulain throughout the whole episode, nothing in French or Welsh romance of approximately so early a date can be compared. Is it not possible that the chivalric tone of the later Welsh romances, like the "Lady of the Fountain," which is generally supposed to have come from France, really came from an Irish model? and that this tone, together with the Arthurian Saga, passed to the Continent?

A great contrast to both the two heroes is afforded by the introduction of Laeg with his cries of exultation, which come between the dying groans of Ferdia and the fine prose lament of Cuchulain, increasing the effect of both. Laeg seems quite unable to see his master's point of view, and he serves as a foil for Ferdia, just as the latter's inferiority increases the character of Cuchulain. The consistency of the whole, and the way in which our sympathy is awakened for Ferdia contrast with the somewhat disconnected character of the L.U. version, which as it stands gives a poor idea of the defeated champion; although, as Mr. Nutt suggests, the lost part may have improved this idea, and the version has beauties of its own.

For the convenience of those readers who may be unacquainted with the story of the war, the following short introduction is given:—

At a time given by the oldest Irish annalists as A.D. 29, the War of Cualnge was undertaken by Maev, queen of Connaught, against the kingdom or province of Ulster. Gathering together men from all the other four provinces of Ireland, Maev marched against Ulster, the leaders of her army being herself, her husband Ailill, and Fergus the son of Rog, an exile from Ulster, and formerly, according to one account, king of that province. Not only had Maev great superiority in force, but the time she Ed chosen for the war was when Conor, king of Ulster, and with him nearly all his principal warriors, were on their sick-bed in accordance with a curse that had fallen on them in return for a cruel deed that he and his people had done. One hero however, Cuchulain, the greatest of the Ulster heroes, was unaffected by this curse; and he, with only a few followers, but with supernatural aid from demi-gods of whose race he came, had caused much loss to the queen and her army, so that Maev finally made this compact: she was each day to provide a champion to oppose Cuchulain, and was to be permitted to advance so long as that combat lasted; if her champion was killed, she was to halt her army until the next morning. Before the Combat at the Ford between Cuchulain and Ferdia, Cuchulain had killed many of Maev's champions in duel, and the epic romance of the "War of Cualnge" gives the full story of these combats and of the end of the war. The episode given in the following pages commences at the camp of Queen Maev, where her chiefs are discussing who is to be their champion against Cuchulain on the following day.



THE COMBAT AT THE FORD



AN EPISODE OF THE CATTLE SPOIL OF CUALNGE IN THE BOOK OF LEINSTER VERSION

At that time debate was held among the men of Ireland who should be the man to go early in the morning of the following day to make combat and fight with Cuchulain. And all agreed that Ferdia, the son of Daman, the son of Dire, was the man who should go; even the great and valiant champion of the men of Irross Donnand, for the manner in which he fought and did battle was like to the manner of Cuchulain. They had got their skill in arms, and valour, and bravery from the same teachers, from Scathach, from Uathach, and from Aife[FN#50]; nor had either of them advantage over the other except that Cuchulain alone could perform the feat of the Gae-bulg. Yet Ferdia was fenced by a horny skin-protecting armour, and this should guard him when he faced a hero in battle and combat at the Ford. So to Ferdia were sent messengers and heralds; but Ferdia denied the heralds, and he refused to depart with them, for well he knew why it was he was called; even to fight against his own friend, his comrade and fellow-pupil Cuchulain; and for that cause he came not with the heralds who were sent.

[FN#50] Pronounced Scaha, Ooha, and Eefa: Scaha and Ooha end with a slight guttural like the ch in the Scotch lock, difficult to express in English.

And then did Maev send to Ferdia Druids, and satirists and revilers, in order that against him should be made three crushing reproaches, and three satires; that the stains of shame, and of blemish, and of disgrace should be raised on his face; so that even if he died not at once, death should be his within the space of nine days if he went with them not. And for the sake of his honour, Ferdia came at their call; for to him it was better to fall before the shafts of valour, of bravery, and of daring than by the stings of satire, of abuse, and of reproach. And he, when he arrived, was received with all worship and service, and was served with pleasant, sweet intoxicating liquor, so that his brain reeled, and he became gently merry. And these were the great rewards that were promised to him if he consented to make that combat and fight: a chariot of the value of four times seven cumals, and the equipment of twelve men with garments of all colours, and the length and breadth of his own territory on the choice part of the plains of Maw Ay; free of tribute, without purchase, free from the incidents of attendance at courts and of military service, that therein his son, and his grandson, and all his descendants might dwell in safety to the end of life and time; also Finnabar the daughter of Maev as his wedded wife, and the golden brooch which was in the cloak of Queen Maev in addition to all this. And thus ran the speech of Maev, and she spake these words, and thus did Ferdia reply:

Maev

Of rings great treasure sending,[FN#51] Wide plains and woodlands bending I grant: till time hath ending I free thy tribe and kin. O thou who oft o'ercamest! 'Tis thine what gift thou namest! Why hold'st thou back, nor claimest A boon that all would win?

[FN#51] The metre of this dialogue and rhyme-system are taken from the Irish but one syllable has been added to each line. The exact Irish metre is that given on page 129.

Ferdia

A bond must hold thee tightly, No force I lend thee lightly; Dread strife 'twill be; for rightly He bears that name of "Hound." For sharp spear-combat breaketh That morn; hard toil it waketh The war Cuchulain maketh Shall fearless war be found.

Maev

Our chiefs, with oaths the gravest, Shall give the pledge thou cravest; For thee, of all men bravest, Brave bridled steeds shall stand. From tax my word hath freed thee, To hostings none shall lead thee, As bosom friend I need thee, As first in all the land.

Ferdia

Mere words are naught availing If oaths to bind be failing; That wondrous Ford-Fight hailing, All time its tale shall greet: Though sun, moon, sea for ever And earth from me I sever; Though death I win—yet never, Unpledged, that war I'll meet.

Maev

These kings and chiefs behind me Their oaths shall pledge to bind me: With boundless wealth thou'lt find me, With wealth too great to pay. 'Tis thou who oaths delayest; 'Tis done whate'er thou sayest; For well I know thou slayest The foe who comes to slay.

Ferdia

Ere thou to slaughter lure me, Six champions' oaths procure me; Till these rewards assure me I meet, for thee, no foe: If six thou grant as gages, I'll face the war he wages, And where Cuchulain rages, A lesser chief, I go.

Maev

In chariots Donnal raceth, Fierce strife wild Neeman faceth, Their halls the bards' song graceth, Yet these in troth I bind. Firm pledge Morand is making, None Carpri Min knew breaking His troth: thine oath he's taking; Two sons to pledge I find.

Ferdia

Much poison, Maev, inflameth Thy heart; no smile thee tameth But well the land thee nameth Proud queen of Croghan's hold; Thy power no man can measure; 'Tis I will do thy pleasure; Now send thy silken treasure, Thy silver gifts, and gold.

Maev

This brooch, as champion's token, I give of troth unbroken; All words my lips have spoken Performed shall Sunday see. Thou glorious chief, who darest This fight, I give thee rarest Of gifts on earth, and fairest, Yea greater meed shall be. For Findabar my daughter; All Elgga's chiefs have sought her; When thou that Hound shalt slaughter, I give in love to thee.

And then did Maev bind Ferdia in an easy task; that on the next day he was to come to combat and fight with six of her champions, or to make duel against Cuchulain; whichever of the two he should think the easier. And Ferdia on his side bound her by a condition that seemed to him easy for her to fulfil: even that she should lay it upon those same six champions to see to it that all those things she had promised to him should be fulfilled, in case Cuchulain should meet death at Ferdia's hand.

Thereupon Fergus caused men to harness for him his horses, and his chariot was yoked, and he went to that place where Cuchulain was that he might tell him what had passed, and Cuchulain bade him welcome. I am rejoiced at your coming, O my good friend Fergus," said Cuchulain. And I gladly accept thy welcome, O my pupil," said Fergus. But I have now come hither in order to tell thee who that man is who comes to combat and fight with thee early on the morning of the day which is at hand." "We shall give all heed to thy words," said Cuchulain. "'Tis thine own friend," said Fergus, "thy companion, and thy fellow pupil; thine equal in feats and in deeds and in valour: even Ferdia, the son of Daman, the son of Dare, the great and valiant champion of the men of Irross Donnan." "Truly," said Cuchulain, "I make mine oath to thee that I am sorry that my friend should come to such a duel." "Therefore," said Fergus, "it behoves thee to be wary and prepared, for unlike to all those men who have come to combat and fight with thee upon the Tain be Cuailgne is Ferdia, the son of Daman, the son of Dare." "I have stood here," said Cuchulain, "detaining and delaying the men of the four great provinces of Ireland since the first Monday in Samhain (November) till the beginning of the spring, and not one foot have I gone back before any one man during all that time, nor shall I, as I trust, yield before him." And in this manner did Fergus continue to put him on his guard, and these were the words that he spoke, and thus did Cuchulain reply:

Fergus

Rise, Cuchulain! foes are near,[FN#52] All their covenant is clear; Daman's ruddy son in rage Comes the war with thee to wage.

[FN#52] The metre is that of the Irish; a literal rendering of the whole dialogue is given in the notes, p. 191.

Cuchulain

Here I stand, whose valiant toil Erin's bands held back from spoil; Never a foot of ground they won, Never a foe they found me shun.

Fergus

Fierce is he in rage; his trust In his blade's deep searching thrust: Plates of horn protect his side, Pierced by none his strength who tried.

Cuchulain

Fergus, much thine arms excel; Cease, this tale no longer tell Land is none, nor battle-field Where to his my strength must yield.

Fergus

He is fierce, with scores can fight, Spear nor sword can on him bite; From that strength, a hundred's match, Hard 'twill be the prize to snatch.

Cuchulain

Yea! Ferdia's power I know; How from foughten field we go; How was fought our piercing war, Bards shall tell to ages far.

Fergus

Loss of much I'd little mourn Could I hear how, eastward borne, Great Cuchulain's bloody blade Proud Ferdia's spoils displayed.

Cuchulain

Though in boasts I count me weak, Hear me now as braggart speak: Daman's son, of Darry's race, Soon shall I, his victor, face.

Fergus

Brought by me, hosts eastward came, Ulster sought to hurt my fame; Here have come, to ease my grief, Many a champion, many a chief.

Cuchulain

Sickness Conor's might withheld, Else his sight thy host had quelled; Less the shouts of joy had been, Raised by Maev, Maw Scayl's high queen.

Fergus

Greater deeds than done by me O Cuchulain! thine shall be: Daman's son thy battle nears; Hear thy friend! keep hard thy spears.

Then Fergus returned to where the army was encamped: Ferdia, also went from Maev and came to his own tent; and there he found his followers, and he told them how he had been bound to Maev as in an easy task, that he was on the morrow to combat and fight with six of her champions, or to make duel with Cuchulain, whichever of the two he might think the easier. Also he told them how she had been bound by a condition that was easy for her to grant: that she should lay it on these same six champions to see that her promises to him of rewards should be fulfilled in case Cuchulain met his death at Ferdia's hand.

There was no cheerfulness, or happiness, or even melancholy pleasure among the inmates of Ferdia's camp that night: they were all cheerless, and sorrowful, and low in spirit; for they knew that whenever those two champions, those two slayers of hundreds met, one of the two must fall in that place, or that both of them should fall: and if one only was to fall they were sure that that one would be their own master; for it was not easy for any man to combat and fight with Cuchulain on the Tain bo Cuailnge.

Now the first part of that night Ferdia slept very heavily, and when the middle of the night had come his sleep had left him, and the dizziness of his brain has passed away, and care for the combat and the fight pressed heavily upon him. Then he called for his charioteer to harness his horses, and to yoke his chariot; and the charioteer began to rebuke him, if haply he might turn him from his purpose. "It would be better for thee to stay!" said the charioteer. "Be thou silent, O my servant!" said Ferdia, and he then spoke the words that follow, and thus did his servant reply to him:—

Ferdia

'Tis a challenge provoking To war, and I go Where the ravens' hoarse croaking Shall rise for my foe: With Cuchulain still seeking The strife at yon ford; Till his strong body, reeking, Be pierced by my sword!

Servant

Nay, thy threats show no meekness; Yet here thou should'st stay; For on thee shall come weakness, Woe waits on thy way: For by Ulster's Rock broken This battle may be, And it long shall be spoken How ill 'twas to thee.

Ferdia

An ill word art thou saying; It fits not our race That a champion, delaying From fight, should thee grace. Then thy speech, my friend, fetter, No foe will we fear; But, since valour is better, His challenge we near.

Then Ferdia's horses were harnessed for him, and his chariot was yoked, and he came forward to the ford of battle; but when he had come there he found that the full light of the day had not yet dawned, and "O my servant!" said Ferdia, "spread out for me the cushions and skins that are upon my chariot, that I may rest upon them till I take the deep repose of refreshing sleep, for during the latter part of this night have I taken no rest, on account of the care that I had for this combat and fight." And the servant unharnessed his horses, and he placed together the cushions and the skins that were upon the chariot, so that Ferdia might rest upon them, and he sank into the deep repose of refreshing sleep.

Now in this place I will tell of the acts of Cuchulain. He rose not at all from his couch until the full light of the day; and this he did in order that the men of Ireland should not be able to say that it was from fear or from dread that he rose, if it had been early that he had arisen. And when the full daylight had come, he commanded his charioteer to harness for him his horses, and to yoke his chariot: "O my servant!" said Cuchulain, "harness for us our horses, and put the yoke to our chariot, for early rises the champion who cometh to meet us this day: even Ferdia, the son of Daman, the son of Dare." "The horses are harnessed," said the charioteer, "and the chariot is yoked; step thou into it, for it will bring no shame on thy valour." Then did Cuchulain, the fighter of battles, the skilful in feats, the winner of victory, that red-sworded hero, the son of Sualtam, leap into his chariot. All around him screamed the Bocanachs, and the Bananachs, and the wild people of the glens, and the demons of the air; for it was the custom of the people of the wizard race of Danu to raise their cries about him in every battle, on every stricken field, in every duel, and in every fight to which he went, that thereby in such fight the hatred, and the fear, and the avoidance, and the terror that men felt for him should be increased. In no short time the charioteer of Ferdia heard the roar of Cuchulain's approach; the clamour, and the hissing, and the tramp; and the thunder, and the clatter, and the buzz: for he heard the shields that were used as missiles clank together as they touched; and he heard the spears hiss, and the swords clash, and the helmet tinkle, and the armour ring; and the arms sawed one against the other, and the javelins swung, and the ropes strained, and the wheels of the chariot clattered, and the chariot creaked, and the hoofs of the horses trampled on the ground as that warrior and champion came forward in triumph to the ford, and approached him.

Then that servant of Ferdia arose, and he placed his hand upon his lord: "Arise now, O Ferdia!" said the servant, "for here they come towards thee, even to the Ford;" and this was the speech of the driver of the chariot of Ferdia as he stood before him:

Lo! a chariot yoked with silver, creaking loud, draws nigh;[FN#53] O'er the chariot-wheels a man his perfect form rears high: The warlike car Rolls on from far Braeg Ross, from Braina's bounds; Past that burg they ride whose wooded side the roadway rounds; For its triumphs high in triumph cry its song resounds.

[FN#53] For a literal translation of the above poem and another rendering, see the notes.

Urged by hero-Hound, and yoked by charioteer's hand true, Flies the war-car southward ever; nobler hawk ne'er flew Than he who speeds His rushing steeds, That chief of stubborn might; Soon the blood to flow from slaughtered foe shall meet his sight; Sure for us 'tis ill, for soon with skill he gives us fight.

Woe to him who here on hillock stands, that Hound to wait; Emain Macha's perfect Hound is he, foretold by fate: Last year I cried That him I spied Who guards his land from foe: That battle-Hound, on whom are found all hues to glow: 'Twas then from far I heard that car: its sound I know.

"O my servant!" said Ferdia, "wherefore is it: that thou hast continued in thy praise of this man ever since the time that I left my tent? surely it must be a reward that thou seekest at his hand, so greatly dost thou extol him; yet Ailill and Maev have foretold that it is by me he shall fall. Certain it is that for sake of the fee I shall gain he shall be slain quickly; and 'tis full time that the relief that we wait for should come." Thus then it was that in that place he spoke these words, and thus did his servant reply:

Ferdia

'Tis time that I grant my assistance! Be still: let thy praise of him sink: Peer not, like a seer, at the distance; Wilt fail me on battle-field's brink? Though Cualgne's proud champion, displaying His gambols and pride thou dost see; Full soon shalt thou witness his slaying For price to be paid down to me.

Servant

If he who this glory is showing Be champion of Cualgne indeed; 'Tis not in retreat he is going; To meet us he cometh with speed: He comes, nor 'tis slowly he blunders, Like wind his swift journey he makes; As stream, from the cliff-top that thunders; As bolt, from the storm-cloud that breaks.

Ferdia

'Tis pay at his hand thou hast taken, So loudly resoundeth thy praise; Else why, since our tent was forsaken, Hast sung with such frequence thy lays? Men, like thou, who, when foes are appearing, Would to chant the foe's praises begin, Will attack not, when battle is nearing, But the name of base cowards shall win.

Now the charioteer of Ferdia was not long in that place before he saw a marvellous sight; for before his eyes came the beautiful five-pointed, four-peaked chariot, skilfully driven with swiftness and power. A canopy of green overspread it; thin and well-seasoned was the body of it; lofty and long were the spears that adorned it; well was it fashioned for war. Under the yokes of that chariot sped forward with great bounds two great-eared, savage, and prancing steeds; bellies had they like whales, broad were their chests, and quick-panting their hearts; their flanks were high, and their hoofs wide; their pasterns fine, their loins broad, and their spirits untamable. The horse under one of the yokes was grey, with a long mane and with broad hind quarters; swiftly he galloped, and his leaps were great; the horse beneath the other yoke was black, his mane was in tufts, his back was broad, and eager was his pace. As a hawk, on a day when the wind bloweth hard, darts up from the furrow; as the gusts of the wind in spring sweep forward over a smooth plain upon a day in March; swift as a going stag at the beginning of the chase, after he hath been roused by the cry of the hounds; such was the pace of the two steeds that bore forward Cuchulain and his chariot, touching upon the soil as rapidly as if the stones that they trod on were hot with the fire, so that the whole earth trembled and shook at the violence of their going. And Cuchulain reached the ford, and Ferdia awaited him on the south side of it, and Cuchulain halted his horses upon the north.

Then did Ferdia bid welcome to Cuchulain: "O Cuchulain!" said Ferdia, I rejoice to see thine approach." "Thy welcome would have been received by me upon an earlier day," said Cuchulain, "but this day I cannot receive it as one from a friend. And Ferdia," said he, "it were more suitable that it was I who bade welcome to thee rather than that thou shouldest welcome me; for out in flight before thee are my women, and my children; my youths, and my steeds, and my mares; my flocks, and my herds, and my cattle." "Ah, Cuchulain!" said Ferdia, "how hast thou been persuaded to come to this fight and this battle at all? For when we were with Scathach, with Uathach, and with Aife, thou wert mine attendant; thine was the office to whet my spears, and to make ready my couch." "'Tis true indeed," said Cuchulain, "but it was then as thy younger in years and in standing that it was my custom to perform this office for thee; and that is not my quality to-day; for now there is not in all the world any champion with whom I would refuse to fight." And then each of them reproached the other bitterly with breach of friendship, and there Ferdia spoke the words which here follow, and thus did Cuchulain reply:

Ferdia

Hound! why hither faring,[FN#54] Strife with strong ones daring? As if home were flaring, Woe shall come on thee! Blood from out thee draining Shall thy steeds be staining; Thou, thy home if gaining, Wounded sore shalt be.

[FN#54] The metre is that of the Irish.

Cuchulain

Hot with indignation, Take I battle-station, Face yon warrior nation, Round their warlike king: They shall see me meet thee, Count the strifes that greet thee, Watch, as down I beat thee, Drowning, suffering.

Ferdia

Here is one to shame thee; How 'twas I o'ercame thee, They who champion name thee Long the tale shall tell. Ulster, near thee lying, Soon shall see thee dying; All shall say, with sighing, Theirs the chief who fell.

Cuchulain

Thine shall be the choosing; Say, what warfare using Hosts shall see thee losing At the Ford this fight? Swords dost choose, hard-clashing Cars, in conflict crashing? Spears, thy life-blood splashing? 'Tis thy death in sight.

Ferdia

Ere the twilight gleameth, Red thy life-blood streameth: Small thy stature seemeth, Like a cliff thy foe. Ulster's hosts who prated, And thy pride inflated; Through them feel thy hated Spectre sadly go.

Cuchulain

Down a chasm appalling Thou to death art falling; One thy foe: yet galling Weapons press thee sore. Proud thou wert but lately, Strife shall change thee greatly, Thee as champion stately Earth shall know no more.

Ferdia

Cease this endless vaunting, Speech for ever flaunting, Thou a chief! a taunting, Giggling child thou art. None would pay, or fee thee, I as coward see thee; Strength hast none to free thee, Caged bird! quaking heart!

Cuchulain

Ah! in bygone story We, as peers in glory, Sports and combats gory Shared when Scaha taught: Thou, of all who nearest To my soul appearest! Clansman! kinsman dearest! Woe thy fate hath brought!

Ferdia

Naught this strife avails thee, Glory fades, and fails thee; Cock-crow loudly hails thee, High on stake thy head! Cualgne's[FN#55] Hound, Cuchulain! Faults thy soul bear rule in: Thee to bitter schooling Frantic grief hath led.

[FN#55] Pronounced Kell-ny.

"O my friend Ferdia!" said Cuchulain, "it was not right for thee to have come to the combat and the fight with me, at the instigation and the meddling of Ailill and Maev: none of those who came before thee have gained for themselves victory or success, and they all fell at my hand; neither shalt thou win victory or success from this battle, by me shalt thou fall." And it was in this manner that he was speaking, and he recited these words, and Ferdia hearkened to him:

Come not near, thou powerful man![FN#56] O Ferdia mac Daman: Worst of woe on thee is hurled, Though thy fate shall grieve the world.

[FN#56] The metre is that of the Irish.

Come not near, nor right forget In my hand thy fate is set: Those recall, whom late I fought, Hath their fall no wisdom taught?

Thou for gifts wert passed in sale, Purple sash, firm coat of mail; Never maid, O Daman's son! In this war of thine is won.

Findabar, Maev's lovely child, With her form thy sense beguiled: Brightly though her beauty glows, She no love on thee bestows.

Wouldst thou win the prize they bring, Findabar, the child of king? Many ere now that maid could cheat Here, like thee, their wounds to meet.

Thou hast sworn, and plighted. troth, Ne'er to fight me: keep thine oath: Friendship's tie thee firm should hold, Come not nigh me, champion bold.

Fifty chiefs, who sought that maid, Fought me, fell, in earth are laid; Well I know that tempting bait, All have found, and earned their fate.

Ferbay fell, though bold his boast, Him obeyed a valiant host; Quickly here his rage I stilled; Cast my spear but once, and killed.

Cruel fate Srub Darry slew, Tales of hundred dames he knew; Great his fame in days of yore; Silver none, 'twas gold he wore.

Though that maid, whom Erin's best Hope to gain, my heart would charm; South and north, and east and west I would keep thee safe from harm.

"And, O my friend Ferdia!" said Cuchulain "this is the cause why it was not thy part to come here to the combat and the fight with me. It is because that when with Scathach, with Uathach, and with Aife we abode, it was the custom with us that together we should go to every battle, and to every field of battle; to every fight and to every skirmish; to every forest and to all wildernesses; to all things dark and difficult." These were the words of his speech, and it was in that place that he recited these staves:

Tuned our hearts were beating, We, where chiefs were meeting, Brotherly went: when slumbering One was our couch: we sought Fierce fights, and fought. Oft in woods that are far away Joined we stood in our skilful play; Scathach our feats had taught.

And Ferdia replied to him thus:

O Cuchulain! for beautiful feats renowned, Though together we learned our skill; Though thou tellest of friendship that once we found, From me shall come first thine ill; Ah, recall not the time of our friendship's day: It shall profit thee nothing, O Hound, I say.

"For too long now have we thus waited," said Ferdia; "tell me now O Cuchulain! to what weapons shall we resort?" "Thou hast the choice of the weapons till the night," said Cuchulain, "because thou wert the first to reach the Ford." "Hast thou any remembrance," said Ferdia, "of the weapons for casting, that we were accustomed to practise the use of when we were with Scathach, with Uathach, and with Aife?" "I do indeed remember them," said Cuchulain." "If thou rememberest them, let us resort to them now," said Ferdia. Then they resorted to their weapons used for the casting. They took up two shields for defence, with devices emblazoned upon them, and their eight shields with sharp edges such that they could hurl, and their eight javelins, and their eight ivory-hilted dirks, and their eight little darts for the fight. To and fro from one to the other, like bees upon a sunny day, flew the weapons, and there was no cast that they threw that did not hit. Each of them then continued to shoot at the other with their weapons for casting, from the dawn of the morning to the full middle of the day, until all of their weapons had been blunted against the faces and the bosses of their shields; and although their casting was most excellent, yet so good was the defence that neither of them wounded the other nor drew the other's blood during all that time. "Cease now from these feats, O Cuchulain!" said Ferdia, "for it is not by means of these that the struggle between us shall come." "Let us cease indeed," said Cuchulain, "if the time for ceasing hath arrived." And they ceased from their casting, and they threw the weapons they had used for it into the hands of their charioteers.

"To what weapons shall we next resort, O Cuchulain?" said Ferdia.

"Thou hast the choice of weapons until the night," said Cuchulain, "because thou wert the first to reach the Ford." "Then," said Ferdia, "let us turn to our straight, well-trimmed, hard, and polished casting-spears with tough cords of flax upon them." "Let us do so indeed," said Cuchulain. Then they took two stout shields of defence, and they turned to their straight, well-trimmed, hard, and polished casting-spears with the tough cords of flax upon them, and each of them continued to hurl his spears at the other from the middle of midday until the ninth hour of the evening: and though the defence was most excellent that each of them made, yet so good was the casting of the spears that each of them wounded the other at that time, and drew red blood from him. "Let us desist from this now, O Cuchulain!" said Ferdia. "Let us desist indeed," said Cuchulain, "if the time has come."

They ceased, and they threw away their weapons into their charioteers' hands; and each of them at the end of that fight sought the other, and each threw his arms about the other's neck, and gave him three kisses. Their horses were in the same paddock that night, the men who had driven their chariots sat by the same fire, moreover the charioteers of both those warriors spread couches of fresh rushes for the two, and supplied them with such pillows as are needed by wounded men. And such folk as can heal and cure came to heal and to cure them, and they applied soothing and salving herbs and plants to their bruises, and their cuts, and their gashes, and to all their many wounds. And of every soothing and salving herb and plant that was brought for the bruises, the cuts, and the gashes, and all the wounds of Cuchulain, he used to send an equal portion westward across the ford to Ferdia, so that in case Ferdia fell at his hand the men of Ireland should not be able to say that it was owing to superiority in leech-craft that he had done it. And of each kind of food, and of pleasant, palatable, intoxicating drink that the men of Ireland brought to Ferdia, he would send a fair half northward across the ford to Cuchulain; for the men who provided food for Ferdia were more in number than they who provided food for Cuchulain. All the army of the men of Ireland helped to provide Ferdia with food, because he was their champion to defend them against Cuchulain; yet to Cuchulain also food was brought by the people who dwell in the Breg. And it was the custom with these that they came to converse with him at the dusk of each night.

Thus they remained that night, but early in the morning they arose, and repaired to the Ford of Combat. "What weapons shall we turn to to-day, O Ferdia?" said Cuchulain. "Thou hast the choice of weapons until the night," answered Ferdia, "because it is I who had my choice of them in the day that is past." "Let us then," said Cuchulain, "resort to our great, broad-bladed, heavy spears this day, for nearer shall we be to our battle by the thrusting of our spears this day than we were by the throwing weapons of yesterday: let our horses be harnessed for us, and our chariots yoked, that upon this day from our chariots and our horses we may fight." "Let us turn to these indeed," said Ferdia. They then took to them two exceedingly stout, broad shields, and they resorted to their great, broad-bladed, heavy spears that day. And each of them continued to thrust at, and to pierce through, and to redden, and to tear the body of the other from the dawn of the morning until the ninth hour of the evening; and if it were the custom for birds in their flight to pass through the bodies of men, they could have passed through the bodies of those warriors that day, carrying with them pieces of their flesh from their wounds into the clouds and to the sky around them. So when the ninth hour of the evening was come, the horses were weary, and the charioteers were weak; and they themselves, champions and heroes of valour as they were, had themselves become weary; and "Let us cease now from this, O Ferdia!" said Cuchulain, "for our horses are weary, and our charioteers are weak; and now that these are weary, why should not we be weary too?" and then it was that he sang this stave:

Not like Fomorians, men of the sea, Stubborn, unending our struggle should be; Now that the clamour of combat must cease, Quarrels forget, and between us be peace.

Let us cease now indeed," said Ferdia, "if the time for it hath come." They ceased, and they threw away their weapons into their charioteers' hands, and each of them at the end of that fight sought the other, and each threw his arms about the other's neck, and gave him three kisses. Their horses were in the same paddock that night, the men who had driven their chariots sat by the same fire, moreover the charioteers of both those warriors spread couches of fresh rushes for the two, and supplied them with such pillows as are needed by wounded men. And such folk as can heal and cure came to examine into their wounds and to tend them that night, for they could do nothing more for them, so severe and so deadly were the stabs and the thrusts, and the gashes of the many wounds that they had, than to apply to them spells and incantations and charms, in order to staunch their blood, and their bleeding mortal wounds. And for every spell and incantation and charm that was applied to the stabs and the wounds of Cuchulain, he sent a full half westward across the ford to Ferdia; and of each kind of food, and of pleasant, palatable, intoxicating drink that the men of Ireland brought to Ferdia, he sent a half across the ford to Cuchulain, in the north. For the men who brought food to Ferdia were more in number than they who brought food to Cuchulain, for all the army of the men of Ireland helped to provide Ferdia with food, because he was their champion to defend them against Cuchulain; yet to Cuchulain also food was brought by the people who dwell in the Breg. And it was the custom with these that they came to converse with him at the dusk of each night.

Thus they rested that night: but early in the morning they arose, and repaired to the Ford of Combat; and Cuchulain saw that an evil look and a lowering cloud was on the face of Ferdia that day. "Ill dost thou appear to me to-day, O Ferdia!" said Cuchulain. "Thy hair hath been darkened to-day, and thine eye hath been dimmed, and the form and the features and the visage that thou art wont to have are gone from thee." "'Tis from no fear or from terror of thee that I am what I am to-day," said Ferdia, "for there is not in Ireland to-day a champion that I am not able to subdue." And Cuchulain complained and lamented, and he spoke the words that follow, and thus did Ferdia reply:

Cuchulain

Is't indeed Ferdia's face?[FN#57] Sure his meed is dire disgrace; He, to war by woman led, Comes his comrade's blood to shed.

[FN#57] The metre is that of the Irish.

Ferdia

Thou who warrior art indeed, Champion tried! who wounds dost breed, I am forced the sod to see Where my final grave shall be.

Cuchulain

Maev her daughter, Findabar, Who all maids excelleth far, Gave thee, not at love's behest, She thy kingly might would test.

Ferdia

Gently ruling Hound, I know That was tested long ago; None so great is known to fame, None, till now, to match it came.

Cuchulain

All that's chanced from thee hath sprung, Darry's grandchild, Daman's son; Woman's hest hath brought thee here Swords to test with comrade dear.

Ferdia

Comrade! had I fled, nor found Fight with thee, fair graceful Hound, Maev my word could broken call; Croghan hold my fame but small.

Cuchulain

None put meat his lips between, None to king or stainless queen Yet was born, whose praise I'd gain, None whose scorn would win thy pain.

Ferdia

Thou who deep in wars dost wade, 'Twas not thou, 'twas Maev betrayed: Back with conquest shalt thou ride, Fault hast none thy fame to hide.

Cuchulain

Clots of blood my faithful heart Choke; my soul is like to part: 'Tis with little force my arm Strikes, to do Ferdia harm!

"Greatly although thou makest complaint against me to-day," said Ferdia, "tell me to what arms shall we resort?" Thine is the choice of weapons until the night," said Cuchulain, "because it was I who had the choice in the day that is past." "Then," said Ferdia, "let us this day take to our heavy hard-smiting swords; for sooner shall we attain to the end of our strife by the edge of the sword this day than we did by the thrusts of our spears in the day that is gone." "Let us do so indeed," said Cuchulain. That day they took upon them two long and exceedingly great shields, and they resorted to their heavy and hard-striking swords. And each of them began to hew, and to cut, and to slaughter, and to destroy till larger than the head of a month-old child were the masses and the gobbets of flesh which each of them cut from the shoulders and the thighs and the shoulder-blades of his foe.

After this fashion did each of them hew at each other from the dawn of the day until the ninth hour of the even, and then Ferdia said, "Let us desist from this now, O Cuchulain!" "Let us cease indeed," said Cuchulain, "if the time has come."

They ceased from their strife, and they threw from them their arms into the hands of their charioteers. Pleasant and cheerful and joyous was the meeting of the two: mournfully, and sorrowfully, and unhappily did they part from each other that night. Their horses were not in the same paddock, their charioteers were not at the same fire, and there they stayed for that night.

It was early in the morning when Ferdia arose, and he advanced alone towards the Ford of Combat. Well did he know that the battle and the conflict would be decided that day; that upon that day and in that place one of the two would fall or that both would fall. And then, before Cuchulain could come, Ferdia put on the armour that he was to use for that battle in the conflict and fight. And this was the battle armour that he used for that conflict and fight; he put a kilt of striped silk, bordered with spangles of gold, next to his white skin, and over that he put his well-sewn apron of brown leather to protect the lower part of his body. Upon his belly he put a great stone as large as a millstone, and over that great stone as large as a millstone he put his firm deep apron of purified iron, on account of the fear and the dread that he had of the Gae-Bulg that day. And his crested helmet that he used for battle and conflict and fight he put upon his head: there were upon it four jewels of carbuncle, each one of them fit to adorn it: also it was studded with enamels, with crystals, with carbuncles, and with blazing rubies that had come from the East. Into his right hand he took his death-dealing sharp-pointed strong spear; upon his left side he hung his curved sword of battle with its golden hilt and its pommels of red gold: upon the slope of his back he took his great and magnificent shield with great bosses upon it: fifty was the number of the bosses, and upon each of them could be supported a full-grown hog: moreover in the centre of the shield was a great boss of red gold. Upon that day Ferdia displayed many noble, rapidly changing, wonderful feats of arms on high; feats which he had never learned from any other, either from his nurse or his tutor, or from Scathach, or from Uathach, or from Aife, but which he himself invented that day for his battle with Cuchulain. And Cuchulain approached the ford, and he saw the many, rapidly changing, wonderful feats that Ferdia displayed on high; and "O my friend Laeg!" said Cuchulain, "I mark those noble, rapidly changing, wonderful feats which Ferdia displays, and I know that all of those feats will in turn be tried upon me; and for this reason if it be I who begin to go backwards this day, let it be thy part to rouse me by reproaches, and by evil speech, so that my rage and my wrath may be kindled, and increase. And if it be I that shall prevail, then do thou give to me praise and approval; and speak good words tome, that my courage may be the greater." "This indeed will I do, O Cuchulain!" said Laeg.

Then did Cuchulain put on his battle armour that he used for the combat and fight. And that day he displayed noble, many-changing, wonderful, and many feats that he had learned from none: neither from Scathach, from Uathach, or from Aife. And Ferdia marked those feats, and he know that each in turn would be tried upon him.

"O Ferdia!" said Cuchulain, "tell me to what arms we shall resort?

"Thine is the choice of weapons until the night," said Ferdia. "Then," said Cuchulain, "let us try the Feat of the Ford."[FN#58] "Let us do so indeed," said Ferdia; but although he thus spoke, it was with sorrow that he consented, for he knew that Cuchulain had ever destroyed every hero and champion who had contended with him at the Feat of the Ford.

[FN#58] i.e. in which all weapons were allowed.

Mighty were the deeds that were done upon that day at the ford by those two heroes, the champions of the west of Europe; by those two hands which in the north-west of the world were those that best bestowed bounty, and pay, and reward; those twin loved pillars of valour of the Gael; those two keys of the bravery of the Gaels, brought to fight from afar, owing to the urging and the intermeddling of Ailill and Maev. From the dawn till the middle of the day, each began to shoot at the other with his massive weapons; and when midday had come, the wrath of the two men became more furious, and each drew nearer to the other. And then upon a time Cuchulain sprang from the shore of the ford, and he lit upon the boss of the shield of Ferdia the son of Daman, the son of Dare, to strike at his head from above, over the rim of his shield. And then it was that Ferdia gave the shield a blow of his left elbow, and he cast Cuchulain from him like a bird, till he came down again, upon the shore of the ford. And again Cuchulain sprang from the shore of the ford, till he lit upon the boss of the shield of Ferdia the son of Daman, the son of Dare, to strike his head from above, over the rim of the shield. And Ferdia, gave the shield a stroke of his left knee, and he cast Cuchulain from him like a little child, till he came down on the shore of the ford.

Laeg saw what had been done. "Ah!" said Laeg, "the warrior who is against thee, casts thee away as a loose woman casts her child; he flings thee as high as the river flings its foam; he grinds thee even as a mill would grind fresh malt; pierces thee as the axe would pierce the oak that it fells; binds thee as the woodbine binds the tree; darts upon thee even as the hawk darts upon little birds, so that never until time and life shall end, shalt thou have a call, or right, or claim for prowess or for valour: thou little fairy phantom!" said Laeg. Up sprang Cuchulain, swift as the wind; quick as the swallow; fiery as the dragon; powerful as the lion; and he bounded into the air for the third time into the troubled clouds of it, until he lit upon the boss of the shield of Ferdia, the son of Daman, striving to strike his head from above, over the rim of the shield. And the warrior shook his shield, and he threw Cuchulain from him, into the middle of the ford, just as if he had never been cast off at all.

And then for the first time the countenance of Cuchulain was changed, and he rose in his full might, as if the air had entered into him, till he towered as a terrible and wonderful giant, with the hero-light playing about his head; rising as a wild man of the sea; that great and valiant champion, till he overtopped Ferdia. And now so closely were they locked in the fight, that their heads met above them, and their feet below them; and in their middles met their arms over the rims and the bosses of their shields. So closely were they locked in the fight, that they turned and bent, and shivered their spears from the points to the hafts; and cleft and loosened their shields from the centres to the rims. So closely were they locked, that the Bocanachs, and the Bananachs, and the wild people of the glens, and the demons of the air screamed from the rims of their shields, and from the hilts of their swords, and from the hafts of their spears. And so closely did they fight, that they cast the river from its bed and its course, so that there might have been a couch fit for a king and a queen to he in, there in the midst of the ford, for there was no drop of water left in it, except such as fell therein from off those two heroes and champions, as they trampled and hewed at each other in the midst of the ford. And so fierce was their fight, that the horses of the Gaels, in fear and in terror, rushed away wildly and madly, bursting their chains, and their yokes, and their tethers, and their traces; and the women, and the common folk, and the followers of the camp, fled south-westwards out of the camp.

All this time they fought with the edges of their swords. And then it was that Ferdia found Cuchulain for a moment off his guard, and he struck him with the straight edge of his sword, so that it sank into his body, till the blood streamed to his girdle, and the soil of the ford was crimson with the blood that fell from the body of that warrior so valiant in fight. And Cuchulain's endurance was at an end, for Ferdia continually struck at him, not attempting to guard, and his downright blows, and quick thrusts, and crushing strokes fell constantly upon him, till Cuchulain demanded of Laeg the son of Riangabra to deliver to him the Gae-Bulg. Now the manner of using the Gae-Bulg was this: it was set with its end pointing down a stream, and was cast from beneath the toes of the foot: it made the wound of one spear on entering a person's body; but it had thirty barbs to open behind, and it could not be drawn out from a man's body until he was cut open. And when Ferdia heard mention of the Gae-Bulg, he made a stroke of his shield downwards to guard the lower part of his body. And Cuchulain thrust his unerring thorny spear off the centre of his palm over the rim of the shield, and through his breast covered by horny defensive plates of armour, so that its further half was visible behind him after piercing the heart in his chest. Ferdia gave an upward stroke of his shield to guard the upper part of his body, though too late came that help, when the danger was past. And the servant set the Gae-Bulg down the stream, and Cuchulain caught it between the toes of his foot, and he threw it with an unerring cast against Ferdia, and it broke through the firm deep apron of wrought iron, and it burst the great stone that was as large as a millstone into three parts, and it passed through the protection of his body into him, so that every crevice and cavity in him was filled with its barbs. "'Tis enough now," said Ferdia. "I have my death of that; and I have but breath enough to say that thou hast done an ill deed against me. It was not right that thy hand should be that by which I should fall." And thus did he cry, as he gasped out these words:

Hound, of feats so fair![FN#59] Death from thee is ill: Thou the blame must bear, Thou my blood dost spill.

Help no wretch hath found Down this chasm of woe: Sick mine accents sound, As a ghost, I go.

Torn my ribs, and burst, Gore my heart hath filled: This of fights is worst, Hound! thou hast me killed.

[FN#59] The metre is that of the Irish.

And after those words, Cuchulain ran towards him, and with his arms and armour about him, carried him northwards across the ford, in order that the slain man might be on the north side of the ford, and not upon the western side together with the men of Erin. Then Cuchulain laid Ferdia down, and there it was that a trance and a faint and a weakness came upon Cuchulain when he saw the body of Ferdia, Laeg saw his weakness, and the men of Ireland all arose to come upon him. "Rise up now, O Cuchulain!" said Laeg, "for the men of Erin are coming towards us, and no single combat will they give to us, since Ferdia the son of Daman, the son of Dare, has fallen by thy hand."

"How shall I be the better for arising, O my servant!" said he, "now that he who lieth here hath fallen by me?" And it was in this manner that his servant spoke to him, and he recited these words, and thus did Cuchulain reply:

Laeg

Now arise, Battle-Hound of Emania! It is joy and not grief should be sought; For the leader of armies, Ferdia, Thou hast slain, and hard battle hast fought.

Cuchulain

What availeth me triumph or boasting? For, frantic with grief for my deed, I am driven to mourn for that body That my sword made so sorely to bleed.

Laeg

'Tis not thou shouldst lament for his dying, Rejoicing should spring to thy tongue; For in malice, sharp javelins, flying For thy wounding and bleeding he flung.

Cuchulain

I would mourn, if my leg he had severed, Had he hewn through this arm that remains, That he mounts not his steeds; and for ever In life, immortality gains.

Laeg

To the dames of Red Branch thou art giving More pleasure that thus he should fall: They will mourn for him dead, for thee living, Nor shall count of thy victims be small.

Great Queen Maev thou hast chased, and hast fought her Since the day when first Cualgne was left; She shall mourn for her folk, and their slaughter, By thy hand of her champions bereft.

Neither sleep nor repose hast thou taken, But thy herd, her great plunder, hast chased, Though by all but a remnant forsaken, Oft at dawn to the fight thou didst haste.

Now it was in that place that Cuchulain commenced his lament and his moan for Ferdia, and thus it was that he spoke:

"O my friend Ferdia! unhappy was it for thee that thou didst make no inquiry from any of the heroes who knew of the valorous deeds I had done before thou camest to meet me in that battle that was too hard for thee! Unhappy was it for thee that thou didst not inquire from Laeg, the son of Riangabra[FN#60] about what was due from thee to a comrade. Unhappy was it for thee that thou didst not ask for the honest and sincere counsel of Fergus. Unhappy it was for thee that thou hast not sought counsel from the comely, the fresh-coloured, the cheery, the victorious Conall about what was due from thee to a comrade. Well do these men know, that never, till life and time come to an end, shall be born in the land of Connaught one who shall do deeds equal to those which have been done by thee. And if thou hadst made inquiry from these men concerning the habitations, the gatherings, the promises, and the broken faith of the fair-haired ladies of Connaught; hadst thou asked them concerning spear-play and sword-play; concerning skill in backgammon and chess; concerning feats with horses, and chariots of war; they would have said that never had been found the arm of a champion who could wound a hero's flesh like the arm of Ferdia; he whose colour matched the tints of the clouds: none who like thee could excite the croak of the bloody-mouthed vulture, as she calls her friends to the feast of the many-coloured flocks; none who shall fight for Croghan or be the equal of thee to the end of life and time, O thou ruddy-cheeked son of Daman!" said Cuchulain. And then Cuchulain stood over Ferdia. "Ah! Ferdia," said Cuchulain, "great was the treachery and desertion that the men of Ireland had wrought upon thee, when they brought thee to combat and fight with me. For it was no light matter to combat and fight with me on the occasion of the Tain bo Cuailnge." And thus it was that he spoke, and he then recited these words:

[FN#60] Pronounced Reen-gabra.

'Twas guile to woe that brought thee; 'Tis I that moan thy fate; For aye thy doom hath caught thee, And here, alone, I wait.

To Scathach, glorious mother, Our words, when boys, we passed; No harm for each from other Should come while time should last.

Alas! I loved thee dearly, Thy speech; thy ruddy face; Thy gray-blue eyes, so clearly That shone; thy faultless grace.

In wrath for strife advances No chief; none shield can rear To piercing storm of lances Of Daman's son the peer.

Since he whom Aife[FN#61] bore me By me was slain in fight, No champion stood before me Who matched Ferdia's might.

He came to fight, thus trusting Might Findabar be won; Such hopes have madmen, thrusting With spears at sand or sun.

[FN#61] Pronounced Eefa. See note on this line.

Still Cuchulain continued to gaze upon Ferdia. And now, O my friend Laeg!" said Cuchulain, "strip for me the body of Ferdia, and take from him his armour and his garments, that I may see the brooch for the sake of which he undertook this combat and fight." Then Laeg arose, and he stripped Ferdia; he took his armour and his garments from him, and Cuchulain saw the brooch, and he began to lament and to mourn for him, and he spake these words:

Ah! that brooch of gold![FN#62] Bards Ferdia knew: Valiantly on foes With hard blows he flew.

Curling golden hair, Fair as gems it shone; Leaflike sash, on side Tied, till life had gone.

[FN#62] The metre and the rhyme-system is that of the Irish. See notes, p. 196.

Comrade, dear esteemed! Bright thy glances beamed: Chess play thine, worth gold: Gold from shield rim gleamed.

None of friend had deemed Could such tale be told! Cruel end it seemed: Ah! that brooch of gold!

"And now, O my friend Laeg!" said Cuchulain, "open the body of Ferdia, and take the Gae-Bulg out of him, for I cannot afford to be without my weapon." Laeg came, and he opened Ferdia's body, and he drew the Gae-Bulg out of him, and Cuchulain saw his weapon all bloody and red by the side of Ferdia, and then he spake these words:

Ferdia, I mourn for thy dying, Thou art pale, although purple with gore: Unwashed is my weapon still lying, And the blood-streams from out of thee pour.

Our friends in the East who have seen us, When with Uathach and Scathach[FN#63] we dwelled, Can bear witness, no quarrel between us Or with words or with weapons was held.

Scathach came; and to conflict inciting Were her accents that smote on mine ear; "Go ye all, where a swift battle fighting, German wields his green terrible spear!

To Ferdia, I flew with the story, To the son of fair Baitan I sped, And to Lugaid, whose gifts win him glory, "Come ye all to fight German," I said.

[FN#63] Pronounced Ooha and Scaha.

Where the land by Loch Formay lies hollowed Had we come, fit for fight was the place; And beside us four hundred men followed; From the Athisech Isles was their race.

As beside me Ferdia contended Against German, at door of his dun; I slew Rind, who from Niul[FN#64] was descended, I slew Rood, of Finnool was he son.

[FN#64] Pronounced Nyool.

'Twas Ferdia slew Bla by the water, Son of Cathbad red-sworded was he: And from Lugaid Mugarne gat slaughter, The grim lord of the Torrian sea.

Four times fifty men, stubborn in battle, By my hand in that gateway were slain; To Ferdia, of grim mountain cattle Fell a bull, and a bull from the plain.

Then his hold to the plunderers giving, Over ocean waves spangled with foam, Did we German the wily, still living, To the broad-shielded Scathach bring home.

There an oath our great mistress devising, Both our valours with friendship she bound; That no anger betwixt us uprising Should 'mid Erin's fair nations be found.

Much of woe with that Tuesday was dawning, When Ferdia's great might met its end; Though red blood-drink I served him that morning: Yet I loved, though I slew him, my friend.

If afar thou hadst perished when striving With the bravest of heroes of Greece, 'Tis not I would thy loss be surviving; With thy death should the life of me cease.

Ah! that deed which we wrought won us sorrow, Who, as pupils, by Scathach were trained: Thou wilt drive not thy chariot to-morrow; I am weak, with red blood from me drained.

Ah! that deed which we wrought won us anguish, Who, as pupils, by Scathach were taught: Rough with gore, and all wounded, I languish; Thou to death altogether art brought.

Ah! that deed that we wrought there was cruel For us pupils, from Scathach who learned: I am strong; thou art slain in the duel, In that conflict, with anger we burned.