Heroic Legends Of Ireland Part 7

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 pa.s.sion 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 pa.s.sage 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 pa.s.sages are an indication that the episode is late, but it should be noticed that the very latest date that can possibly be a.s.signed to it, the eleventh century, precedes that of all other known romances of chivalry by at least a hundred years. To this later att.i.tude 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, pa.s.sed 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 Rg, 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 princ.i.p.al 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-G.o.ds 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 Scthach, from Uathach, and from Aife[1]; 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 h.o.r.n.y 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.

And then did Maev send to Ferdia Druids, and satirists and revilers, in order that against him should be made three crus.h.i.+ng 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 s.p.a.ce 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 [1. p.r.o.nounced Scha, Ooha, and Eefa: Scha and Ooha end with a slight guttural like the ch in the Scotch lock, difficult to express in English.]

arrived, was received with all wors.h.i.+p 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 c.u.mals, 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,[1]

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?

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.

[1. 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.]

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 a.s.sure 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 pa.s.sed, 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 Dar, 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 Dar." "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,[1]

All their covenant is clear; Daman's ruddy son in rage Comes the war with thee to wage.

[1. 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 s.n.a.t.c.h.

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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 pa.s.sed 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' hoa.r.s.e 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 cus.h.i.+ons and skins that are upon my chariot, that I may rest upon them till I take the deep repose of refres.h.i.+ng 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 cus.h.i.+ons and the skins that were upon the chariot, so that Ferdia might rest upon them, and he sank into the deep repose of refres.h.i.+ng 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 Dar." "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 Bocnachs, and the Bannachs, 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 s.h.i.+elds 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;[1]

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.

[1. 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; n.o.bler hawk ne'er flew Than he who speeds His rus.h.i.+ng 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 a.s.sistance!

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 fas.h.i.+oned 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 Scthach, 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 friends.h.i.+p, and there Ferdia spoke the words which here follow, and thus did Cuchulain reply: Ferdia Hound! why hither faring,[1]

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.

[1. 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-clas.h.i.+ng Cars, in conflict cras.h.i.+ng?

Spears, thy life-blood splas.h.i.+ng?

'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 Scha 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; c.o.c.k-crow loudly hails thee, High on stake thy head!

Cualgne's[1] Hound, Cuchulain!

Faults thy soul bear rule in: Thee to bitter schooling Frantic grief hath led.

"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![2]

O Ferdia mac Daman: Worst of woe on thee is hurled, Though thy fate shall grieve the world.

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 pa.s.sed in sale, Purple sash, firm coat of mail; Never maid, O Daman's son!

In this war of thine is won.

[1. p.r.o.nounced Kell-ny. 2. The metre is that of the Irish.]

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: Friends.h.i.+p'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 Scthach, 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.