Chapter VI: Book IV

That day those many hosts and bands and throngs,
Ending their feasting on Moy Wee, had moved
Forth on their travel and their arduous hosting.
Their travel unto Ulster now we tell;
And all the ways they went by; and events
That chanced upon those ways. First, then, they went
South-eastward from Rath Croohan; and they crossed
Moy Cronn, and passed Toom Mona, and the lake
Where three bounds march; and at that first day’s end
They camped on Cool Shillinny. There his tent
That night was pitched for Al-yill son of Mawta.
Fit furniture of cloths and coverlets
Was ranged in it; and in that plenished tent
On Al-yill’s right at pleasant feasting sat
Fergus the son of Roy, Cormac Conlinghish,
And Feeaha, young son to Conall Carna;
While on his left sat Maev daughter of Yóhee;
And Findabair, daughter of Maev and Al-yill.
Servants, attendants, and distributors
Were also in that tent. At eve that day
Maev’s band had come the last of all those hosts;
For Maev had lingered and delayed that day,
Searching for prophecy and knowledge. Then,
When she at length had come, she had commanded
Her charioteer to fit for her her nine
War-chariots (for ’twas in this manner ever,
On every hosting, Maev was wont to fare:—
Namely,—with two war-chariots in her front,
Two in her rear, and two upon each side,
The chariot on the which she rode herself
Being amidmost of them. For this cause
She so was wont to fare—namely, that so
The turves and ooze flung from the hooves of steeds,
Or flakes of foam flung from their bridle-bits,
Or clouds of dust caused by vast, moving hosts,
Might not attain to tarnishing or spoiling
The flashing mĭnd of gold worn by the queen).
The charioteer had brought these chariots then;
And Maev had taken a circuit through the camp,
Riding—that she herself might ascertain
Which of those many bands were loth and slow,
And which were active, rapid, animated
Upon that hosting. Now she had come (that done)
Into the tent, and sat by Al-yill’s side.
Maev’s mind within her vexed her grievously
That night; and she was troubled and perturbed
And chafed and anxious, thinking of those things
Which she had heard in way of prophecy.
Then Al-yill asked for tidings of the camp.
“There is no need,” said Maev, “for any folk
To fare upon this hosting, save one folk—The
cantred of the Leinster-men.” “What good,”
Asked Al-yill, “have they wrought, so to be praised
Beyond all others?” “When the others first
Halted to camp,” said Maev, “these had already
Built up their bothies and their booths and shelters.
And when the others had built up their shelters,
Those men of Leinster had served round their meat
And ale; and when the others had served their meat,
The Leinster-men had made an end of eating,
And harpers played to them. As thus their slaves
And bond-folk are distinguished ’mid the slaves
And bond-folk of all Erin: so their leaders
Will be distinguished ’mid the battle-leaders
Of Erin; and ’tis with that Leinster cantred
Each victory will be.” “The better that
For us,” said Al-yill; “for it is with us
They travel, and for us they will contend.”
“With us they shall not travel,” Maev affirmed,
“And for us not contend.” “Then,” answered Al-yill,
“Let them stay here.” “They shall not stay,” said Maev;
“When we have gone from Connaught with our hosts,
They will rise up and take our land from us,
If they stay here.” Findabair, Bright-beam,
Daughter of Maev and Al-yill, asked her then:
“What shall the Leinster-men then do, if thus
They neither bide nor go?” And Maev replied:
“Their death and violent end and slaughter—that
Is what I crave for them!” “Woe,” answered Al-yill,
“That thou shouldst say that thing,—only for this,
That with dexterity and speed and swiftness
They made their camp to-night! We will not hide
That that is woman-counsel!” Fergus, then,
The son of Roy, said: “By our truth of conscience!
It shall not fall out so. They are a people
Bound to us Ulster-men by bonds. No man
Shall give them death but him who first gives death
To me myself.” “E’en that we could achieve,
O Fergus,” Maev responded. “We have numbers
Enough to slay thee and thy Ulster-men
And all those Leinster-men around thee. Here
We have of Connaught folk upon this hosting
The seven Mahn-yas with their seven cantreds,
The seven sons of Mahga with their cantreds,
Al-yill the son of Mawta with his cantred,
And I myself with my own household troops.
We are enough to slay you Ulster-men
And all the Leinster-men around you.” Fergus
Replied: “O Maev, it would not happen so.
Upon my side there are the seven chiefs
From wide and mirthful Munster; and with each
Is his own cantred. I have here with me
Two cantreds of the best of fighting-men
Of Erin all, namely, our Ulster Exiles,
And this same cantred of the Leinster-men.
And to these last I have been pledge and surety,
Since first they left their native territory,
And came to Connaught; and ’tis on my part
That they would fight in every place of battle.
There is a thing, however, now,” said Fergus.
“These men need not be made a cause of strife
Between us. It is all one thing to me
So that they be not injured. They by me
Shall now be scattered and distributed
Amongst the men of Erin, so that henceforth
Not five of them shall be in the one place.”
“It is one thing to me, indeed,” said Maev,
“So that they stay not in that strong array
Wherein they are this hour.” That, then, was done.
The cantred of the Leinster-men was scattered
Amidst the men of Erin, so that thenceforth,
Not five of them were found in the one place.
The hosts next day moved on from Cool Shillinny,
Continuing their progress and their course.
They passed by Doolough, and they crossed Slieve Bawne,
And reached Mone Coltna. There, on that wide moor,
They chanced on eight score deer in one thick herd,
Which they surrounded; and in whate’er place
There was a man of those same Leinster-men,
’Twas he who got the deer, except five deer,
Which were obtained by others on that hosting.
Across the wide, reed-bordered Shannon next
The hosts passed eastward. On Moy Traega next
They camped to east of it. Now, it was hard
To wield and manage that vast host, composed
Of many various folks and tribes and kindreds,
And to make sure that everyone should be
With his own friends and his own tribe and kindred.
And then all said this was the fitting mode
For their advance, namely, that each great throng
Should be round its own king, and each division
Round its own sub-king, and each lesser band
Round its own captain; and that every king
And everyone of kingly rank should make
A camping-mound apart. Further, they said
It must be thought of who was the fit man
To go before the hosts, and show the way
Between the two great Fifths. And then all said
That Fergus was that man; because to him
This hosting was a hosting for revenge
And for retaliation on that king
Who had insulted him, in causing death
To those who had come to Erin ’neath his safeguard
And sworn protection. So to Fergus then
The leadership was given, and Fergus went
Before the hosts to guide them on to Ulster.
Then, e’en as he so led those warlike throngs
Toward Ulster, toward the east, on Fergus fell
His fervent love for his own land, that land
Of proud-high Ulster. Each renowned old doon
Therein was known to him. Famed men therein,
Who now in resting-houses of old age
Rested from wars, had been his fosterers.
Famed battle-breakers, war-trained men therein,
Had been his comrades in the use of arms,
His dear, near foster-brothers. And young men
Therein, and eager striplings, and fresh youths
Had been his foster-children. And he thought
Of one young lad, his foster-son, who dwelt
Nigh Cooley—thinking of whom Fergus sent
Swift warnings privily to Ulster. Then,
By a long, devious route o’er bogs and streams
He led the hosts, delaying their advance
Toward Ulster, till they came at length to Granard
In Northern Teffia. There a while they camped.
Again the hosts moved onward, and again
On Fergus came his pity for his land
And kindred; and again sharp memory
Of that young foster-son who dwelt beside
The bounds of Cooley came; and then again
He led the hosts by a long devious course.
Through Northern Teffia and Southern Teffia
Southward in loops he went, till he arrived
Beside the streaming Inn-yone. Al-yill, then,
And Maev perceived that thing which Fergus did.
Maev challenged Fergus; and he answered her.
“Fergus,” said Maev, “what kind of way is this?
Wandering to north and south, in turn we stray
Through every other folk.” “O Maev,” said Fergus,
“Wherefore be troubled? ’Tis not for the harm
Of these your hosts that I go wandering
On every way in turn. ’Tis to avoid
A certain Slaughter-hound of Moy Mweerhevna
Who else would spring at you; and I forewarn you
To fear that Hound.” Maev said, “It is unrighteous
In thee to work the harm of this our hosting,
O Fergus son of Roy! Thou, in thy exile,
Hast found much kindness at our hands, O Fergus.”
Then Fergus said, “I will no longer go
Before these hosts. Let some one else,” said Fergus,
“Go on before these battle-throngs to Ulster.”
So Fergus yielded up the leadership.
The hosts then took the nearest course to Ulster.
Through Meath and by the great high road of Assal
They went; and crossed the Finnglass, Delt, and Delind;
And so drew near the Ultonian outer bounds.
On high Ardcullin, at the pillar-stone
Which marks the boundary of Ulster, soon
Two scouts arrived, the sons of Renc of Croohan.
Their names were Err and Inn-yel: and the names
Of those who drove their chariots, Frae and Fohnam.
The function these men had was, to precede
The hosts in every hosting and encampment,
Protecting all the clasps, blankets, and bratts,
Brought by the royal sons, from getting soilure
Through dust or mire raised by the moving hosts.
These now, arriving on Ardcullin, gazed
Abroad upon the trackless, unknown land—
To them all strange and trackless and unknown—
The land of Ulster. They began to see,
Then, that around that boundary pillar-stone
Steeds had been grazing. On the northern side
The grass was cropped away e’en with its roots
From out the earth. Upon the southern side
The earth was licked away down to the stones
And flags beneath the grass. And then they saw,
Hooping the thick part of the pillar-stone,
A new-made spancel-withe, made from an oakling
New-felled and twisted: and a graven inscription
In ogam was upon the withe. At that,
They sat and rested; and their men of music
Played to them till the host should come. First Fergus
Arrived upon that height. They gave the withe
Into his hand: and Fergus read the ogam
Engraven upon the withe. When Maev arrived,
She asked, “Why wait you here?” “We wait,” said Fergus,
“Owing to yonder withe. There is an ogam
Engraven on it.” Fergus gave the withe
Into the hands of Maev’s own Druids. Then
He said, “Good Druids, here is a spancel-withe.
Whom names it to us? What now is its secret?
What number threw it there, few or a host?
Will it work injury to these great hosts
If they shall journey past it? Find, O Druids,
The secret of the withe.” Whereon the Druids
Answered:—“This withe is a delay of chieftains,
Misfortune unto fighters, fierce in import.
By one man it was flung, who, using only
One hand, one eye, one foot, felled from the forest
The sapling tree, and firmly twisted it
Into this withe and wrote the ogam. And now
’Tis gass to all your hosts to pass yon stone
Without their spending here one night encamped,
Unless some man amongst your hosts can make
A spancel-withe like this one, using only
One hand, one eye, one foot, and shaping it
From the one stick. And thus the ogam closes:—
‘And I prohibit my dear Master, Fergus,
From making it.’” “I give my word,” said Fergus,
“If ye shall set that spancel-withe at nought,
Insulting him who made it, if—that is—
Ye neither camp one night upon these bounds,
Nor see that some one from among yourselves
Construct an equal withe, using one foot,
One eye, one hand, as this one was constructed,
Then, wheresoever ye may lie to-night,
In house or doon or lodgment underground,
That hero will for certain find you out;
And some of you will pale in red death-pools
Ere comes the hour of rising in the morn.”
“Not that,” said Maev, “is it, which pleases us—One
to take blood from us and redden us
On our first entering yon foreign Fifth,
The Ulster Fifth. Rather it pleases us
To draw first-blood ourselves.” Al-yill then spake.
“We will not violate this withe,” said he.
“We will not violate the kingly hero,
Who made the withe: we will not cross this height.
Into the neck of yonder wide, great forest
To southward, we will go till morning. There
Our camp and our encampment shall be made.”
The hosts turned southward then. With their strong swords
They hewed the wood before them, hewing so
A road-path for their chariots. Slahta, therefore,
“Hewn road,” that place is named. In Cool Shibrilly,
Just where the Little Partry is, it is,
South-west of Cennannus of Kings. That night
A heavy snow fell round the men of Erin.
So much it was, it mounted to men’s shoulders;
It reached the thick parts and the thighs of steeds,
And reached their chariot shafts. One even floor
Were the Five Fifths of Erin with that snow
That night. And no pavilions and no booths
And huts were made that night. There was no service
Of food and ale; no eating or regalement
Was there; and no one of the men of Erin
That night knew whether ’twas his friend or foe,
Who was next man to him, till the light came
At rising-hour upon the morrow. Surely
The men of Erin ne’er before had found
A night in camp wherein they had more hardness
And hardship to endure than they endured
That night in Cool Shibrilly. On the morrow,
As the sun rose and flashed along the snow,
The four Great Fifths of Erin started onward;
And from that territory to another
They passed; they crossed the boundary, and passed
Into the land of Ulster. Then those two,
Who e’er were wont to go before the hosts—
On every hosting and on every foray,
In every pass and gap and river-ford—
Inn-yel and Err, to wit, two of Maev’s people,
Rode onward now as always. And each hoped
He might himself be first to find and slay
That warrior who had flung the withe; and thus
Might gain much praise and fame. The hosts moved eastward;
They crossed the Duv, the Ohawn, and the Caha,
The Cromma and the Thromma and Fo-dromma
Which flow into the Boyne. They came to Slane;
And passed the field of Slane, and reached Drum Leek;
And entered on the Pass through the great forest,
Northward of Knowth of Kings. There something chanced.
Those folks who were to vanward of the hosts
Perceived the chariots of swift Err and Inn-yel
Returning toward them, and the bloody forms
Of Err and Inn-yel headless, and the forms
Of their two charioteers, Fohnam and Frae,
Headless, upon the chariots; and the blood
From the four headless necks flowed o’er the wicker
And frame-parts of the chariots. At that sight
The vanguard halted; all the hosts were put
To fear and dread and weapon-shuddering.
Maev, then, with Fergus and the seven Mahn-yas
And seven sons of Mahga, reached the front
Which halted; and Maev asked, “What is this here?”
“Not hard to tell,” said all; “these are the steeds
Of that small band which ever went before us
On every hosting and on every foray,
In every pass and gap, river and ford.
Here are the bodies of the heroes, headless.”
Advice was shaped thereafter; and it seemed
Certain to them that this was evidence
Of numbers; and that some great host was there;
And that it was the Ultonians who had come
Into that place; and this was the advice
There shaped by them:—namely, to send from them
Cormac Conlingish son of Conor son
Of Fahtna Fahee, that he might find out
Who held the ford in front of them. They said,
That e’en should the Ultonian hosts be there
Upon that ford, they would not slay the son
Of their own Ulster king. Cormac Conlingish
The son of Conor son of Fahtna Fahee
Then went from them to see who held the ford;
And twenty hundred and ten hundred men
Armed, made the force who went with him. He reached
The turlough ’mid the forest, and the ford
Whereby to pass that water; and he saw
Nothing, save, lonely ’mid the water there,
A four-pronged shaft, from every point whereof
A head of one of those four slain dropped blood
Down to the joining of the prongs and down
Thence to the water’s current. And he saw
Out of the ford, eastward, beyond, the ruts
Of a chariot, and the hoof-prints of two steeds,
The track-marks of one man. The chiefs of Erin
Came to the ford; and all began to gaze
On that pronged shaft; and on them all was wonder
As to who could have placed the trophy there.
“What name with you was on this ford, O Fergus,
Until this hour?” said Al-yill. Fergus said:
“Ath Greena; but henceforth, till Doom, Ath Greena
Shall be Ath Gowla. From yon bold, rough deed;
From yon pronged shaft upon two points of which
Ye see the heads of In-yel and of Err,
And on the other two the heads of Frae
And Fohnam, this famed ford shall now be called
Ath Gowla, ‘Ford of the forked tree.’” Then Fergus
Said to Maev’s Druid, “O Druid, Pleasing One,
What is yon ogam on the shaft? And were they
Few or a host who dug this turlough-bed,
Planting it there?” The Druid answered him,
“That four-pronged tree which I see there, O Fergus,
By one man it was cut: with one swift sword-sweep
He cut it, root and branches. And he cast it
With a choice cast from off the hinder-part
Of his war-chariot, using one hand alone;
And its two-thirds went firm into the earth;
So that one-third of it alone is there
Outside the earth. And he dug not its road
Before it with his sword; but through the stones
And flags and gravel of the turlough-bed
It pierced its road. And to the men of Erin
’Tis gass to reach the mid-part of yon ford
Before one man amongst themselves has drawn it
Out of its bed, using one hand alone,
Even as with one hand alone ’twas cast
Into yon ford but now.” Al-yill then said:
“There is much wonder and perplexity
With me, O Fergus, owing to the speed
Wherewith those four were slain.” Fergus replied:
“Fitter it were to marvel at the skill
Wherewith yon shaft was hurled; and this I tell you—
If ye shall set that four-pronged tree at nought,
Insulting him who hurled it—if ye pass
This ford without that one among yourselves
Have drawn this shaft, using one hand alone,
Even as with one hand alone ’twas hurled
Into the ford but now—then verily
Wherever ye may make your camp to-night,
He whom ye so insult will visit you,
And many will be slain, as these were slain,
Ere comes the hour of rising in the morn.”
“Thou art thyself of these our hosts, O Fergus,”
Said Maev. “Avert this hindrance. Pluck us up
This pole from out the ford.” “Bring me a chariot,”
Said Fergus, “Ye shall see whether ’tis true
That with one curvéd sword-sweep it was cut,
Both root and head.” A chariot then was brought
To Fergus; and he stood on it, and gave
A strong pull at the pole: and of the chariot
He made small bits and pieces. “Bring me a chariot,”
Said Fergus; and they brought a second chariot
To Fergus; and he gave a stronger pull
At the fixed pole, but made small bits and pieces
And splinters of the chariot. “Bring me a chariot,”
Cried Fergus. A third chariot then was brought;
And Fergus put forth powerful strength and effort
To draw the pole; but made crushed bits and pieces
And fragments of that chariot. Seven and ten
Chariots of Connaught, each after each, men brought;
And of them all, each after each, great Fergus
Made broken, bruiséd bits, splinters, and fragments,
But had not yet been able to drag up
The pole from midmost of the ford. Then Maev
Cried to him, interposing: “Good, now, leave it,
O Fergus. Be no longer breaking down
The chariots of our people. Well we know
That hadst thou not been with us on this hosting,
On this occasion, we long since had reached
The Ultonians, and had driven forth great prey
Of captives and of kine. And well we know
Why thou art acting thus. It is to stay
And to delay the advance of our great hosts,
Until the Ultonians rise from out their Kesh,
And haste to give us battle, the great battle,
The battle of the Táin.” Then Fergus cried,
“Bring me my own good chariot.” And men brought
To Fergus his own chariot. He put forth
The utmost measure of his strength and effort;
And not a pole or shaft or wheel or frame-bit
Of that good chariot cried, grated, or groaned.
Though great the prowess and the hero-strength
Wherewith the pole was cast into the ford
By him who cast it, yet with equal strength
And equal prowess it was now plucked up
Out of the ford again by that renowned,
Famed battle-warrior and that hurdle-fence
Against a hundred, that strong-smiting hammer,
That foeman of vast hosts, that cutter-off
Of multitudes, that flaming link, that chief
Of huge battalions. Fergus drew it up
With his one hand, steadily, till it reached
His shoulder’s level; and he took and gave it
Into the hands of Al-yill. Al-yill gazed
Upon the pole, and scrutinized it. “True,”
Said he, “I see that with one cut, one stroke,
This has been finished, foot and head. This tells us
The nature and the training of that people
Toward whom we go. Go we to-day no further;
But let our tents and booths be placed for us:
Let pleasant food and ale be served to us:
Let music and old lays be sung to us:
Let us have banqueting and mirth. For never
On any hosting did the men of Erin
Meet with a night of camping in a camp,
Wherein they had more dolour to endure
Than they endured last night in Cool Shibrilly
In the thick-driving snow.”
A camp was made
Beside Ath Gowla then. Bondmen and serfs
From out the forest carried kindling-wood
For fires, and young trees and bending boughs
For bothies and for shelters: all began
To broil their food and to make hot their ale.
Maev made the circuit of the camp: whereon,
She, seeing that thronged camp within the bounds
Of Ulster, much exulted. “For when Conor
Hears of this thing,” said she, “’twill be to him
A fire within his heart, a gnawing cancer
Beside his girdle.” So Maev thought, exulting.
And Al-yill spake to Frae the son of Eedath.
“O Frae,” said Al-yill, “bring thy three musicians—
Thy three melodious and far-famed musicians—
And let them play for us.” “Yea, let them play,”
Frae said; and then those harpers were led forth.
And the first harper touched his strings and played
The mournful Goltree, the deep weeping-song,
Until twelve men amongst Maev’s household troops,
Hearing it, died with wailing and with grief.
The second harper touched his strings and played
The merry Gantree, the fresh laughing-song,
So that the men around forgot their woe
In laughter, and enjoyment, and delight.
Last, the third harper touched his strings and played
The Sooantree, the low, sweet sleeping-song,—
Until on all the weary men around
A sleep of soothingness descended. So,
Slept those o’er-weary hosts. Howbeit, not yet
Slept the great chieftains; but in Al-yill’s tent
Of ample wideness, round the glowing brands
Assembled, they conversed. Then Al-yill spake,
The while they sat thus in the kingly tent,—
“There is with me,” said he, “marvel and wonder
As to who came to-day unto these bounds,
Slaying those four who ever went before us
On every hosting. Tell us, is it likely
That it was Conor son of Fahtna Fahee,
High-king of Ulster?” “Verily,” said Fergus,
“It is not likely. Had it been great Conor
Who came there, there had come along with him
Those culled, choice bands and troops, which are the best
Amongst the men of Erin, and which serve him
Continually. Though the men of Erin,
Together with the men of Alba, Britain,
And Saxon-land should gather in one stead,
One meeting-place, one course, one camp, one hill,
Over against him, he would give them battle;
Before him they would be defeated, scattered,
And not o’er him would they gain victory.”
“Who, then,” asked Al-yill, “was it? Is it likely
That it was Cooscree Mend, the son of Conor,
From Innish Cooscree?” “Nay, it is not likely,”
Fergus replied, “for had it been the son
Of the High-king who came there, there had come
Together with him all those sons of kings
And sons of chieftains who are ever with him
In tutelage and training. Though the men
Of Erin, with the men of Alba, Britain,
And Saxon-land were gathered in one stead
Over against him, he would give them battle
With courage, and he would not flee before them.”
“Who was it, then?” said Al-yill. “Is it likely
That it was Owen son of Doorha king
O’er wooded Farney?” “Nay, not so,” said Fergus.
“Had it been he, he would have brought with him
His goodly forces of the men of Farney:
He would have stayed to fight a hard-fought battle.”
“Who was it, then?” said Al-yill. “Thinkest thou
That it was Keltar son of Oohider
Who came there?” “Nay, in sooth, not he,” said Fergus.
“He is a bruising quern-stone to the foes
Of all the Fifth: he is a head of battle:
He is an oaken door against the foes
Of all his country! Though the men of Alba,
With men of Britain and of Saxon-land,
Together with the men of Erin all,
From west to east, from south to north, should meet
In the one stead, one doon, one camp, one hill,
Over against him, he would give them battle:
Before him they would be dispersed and scattered,
And not o’er him would they gain victory.”
“Who was it, then, that came unto these bounds?”
Al-yill exclaimed. “I know not,” Fergus said;
“Unless, indeed, there came that little lad,
My fosterling and Conor’s fosterling,
Whom we all called Cucullin of the Forge.”
“Ah!” Al-yill said, “full many a time in Croohan
I heard thee speak of that young child. Well, then,
What may his age be now?” “’Tis not his age
At all that matters to you,” Fergus said,
“He was more celebrated for his actions
When he was but a babe, than even now
At his full seventeen years.” “How, then,” said Maev,
“Have you among the Ultonians now some youth
Of a like age with him, who is yet harder
In combats and encounters?” “No,” said Fergus,
And spake with vehemence. And as they sat
At pleasant feasting in the kingly tent,
And drank the sweet, enlivening wine which Maev
Had brought with her from Croohan, he began
Passionately to praise and glorify
His foster-child Cucullin. “No,” said Fergus,
“Ye will not find among the Ulster youths
Another like him. ’Midst all other youths,
He is a ram amid the flocks, a bull
’Mid timorous herds, a high and flaming torch
Of a king’s house amidst the little lights
Of shepherd-booths. Yea, and I say this, too:—
Ye will not find over to northward there,
Amongst the mighty warriors of this land,—
Hard, dire sledge-hammers, barricades of battle,
Huge gates against flood-waters, though these be,—
Ye will not find among them all, I say,
One of more firm resistance in a fight,
Of greater vehemence in rapid onrush,
Of faculty more airy, swift, and fresh
In varied weapon-play, feats, and exploits
Than is Cucullin. No, ye will not find
Over against you, in this land ye enter,
Another of like power, or a youth
Who, in illustrious noble qualities,—
In trophy-taking, in the feat of nine
O’er pointed weapons, in address, in valour,
In voice, in sweet and skilful utterance,
In charm, in courtesy, in all distinction,—
Attains unto the third part or the fourth
Of that which is attained by that distinguished
And noble Hound, Cucullin.” “Of this all,”
Said Maev, “we will not make too much. One body
Is all he has; and it, like any other,
Receiving sore death-wounds will die. Moreover,
It is the age of a but just-grown girl
That ye attribute to him. Not for long
Will this young beardless stripling ye describe
Hold out against our armies!” “Think not so,”
Said Fergus, “for the deeds of that young lad
Were even more great and manly at the time
When he was but a babe than even now
At his full seventeen years.” Then Al-yill said:
“On entering a strange and foreign land,
To hear the adventures and the histories
Of the famed, warlike tribes toward whom one goes,
Is pleasant and a pastime. Tell us, then,
The adventures of this child ye speak of.”
Fergus
Began to tell the adventures and exploits
Wrought by his foster-child in those glad days
Ere the Black Exile; and with joy the tale
Of those old, happy days was taken up
In turn by Cormac and by Feeaha.

BOOK V