{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_5678/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_5678","id":"gutenberg_5678","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5678","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Epic literature, Irish -- Translations into English","Heroes -- Ireland -- Legends","Mythology, Celtic -- Ireland","Tales -- Ireland"],"text":"HEROIC ROMANCES OF IRELAND\n\n\nTRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH PROSE AND VERSE, WITH PREFACE, SPECIAL\nINTRODUCTIONS AND NOTES\n\nBY\n\nA. H. LEAHY\n\n\nIN TWO VOLUMES\n\nVOL. I\n\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nAt a time like the present, when in the opinion of many the great\nliteratures of Greece and Rome are ceasing to hold the influence that\nthey have so long exerted upon human thought, and when the study of the\ngreatest works of the ancient world is derided as \"useless,\" it may be\ntoo sanguine to hope that any attention can be paid to a literature\nthat is quite as useless as the Greek; which deals with a time, which,\nif not actually as far removed from ours as are classical times, is yet\nfurther removed in ideas; a literature which is known to few and has\nyet to win its way to favour, while the far superior literature of\nGreece finds it hard to defend the position that it long ago won.  It\nmay be that reasons like these have weighed with those scholars who\nhave opened up for us the long-hidden treasures of Celtic literature;\ndespairing of the effort to obtain for that literature its rightful\ncrown, and the homage due to it from those who can appreciate literary\nwork for itself, they have been contented to ask for the support of\nthat smaller body who from philological, antiquarian, or, strange as it\nmay appear, from political reasons, are prepared to take a modified\ninterest in what should be universally regarded as in its way one of\nthe most interesting literatures of the world.\n\nThe literary aspect of the ancient literature of Ireland has not indeed\nbeen altogether neglected.  It has been used to furnish themes on which\nmodern poems can be written; ancient authority has been found in it for\nwhat is essentially modern thought: modern English and Irish poets have\nclaimed the old Irish romances as inspirers, but the romances\nthemselves have been left to the scholars and the antiquarians.\n\nThis is not the position that Irish literature ought to fill.  It does\nundoubtedly tell us much of the most ancient legends of modern Europe\nwhich could not have been known without it; but this is not its sole,\nor even its chief claim to be heard.  It is itself the connecting-link\nbetween the Old World and the New, written, so far as can be\nascertained, at the time when the literary energies of the ancient\nworld were dead, when the literatures of modern Europe had not been\nborn,[FN#1] in a country that had no share in the ancient civilisation\nof Rome, among a people which still retained many legends and possibly\na rudimentary literature drawn from ancient Celtic sources, and was\nproducing the men who were the earliest classical scholars of the\nmodern world.\n\n\n[FN#1]  The only possible exceptions to this, assuming the latest\npossible date for the Irish work, and the earliest date for others, are\nthe kindred Welsh literature and that of the Anglo-Saxon invaders of\nBritain.\n\n\nThe exact extent of the direct influence of Irish literature upon the\ndevelopment of other nations is hard to trace, chiefly because the\ninfluence of Ireland upon the Continent was at its height at the time\nwhen none of the languages of modern Europe except Welsh and\nAnglo-Saxon had reached a stage at which they might be used for\nliterary purposes, and a Continental literature on which the Irish one\nmight have influence simply did not exist.  Its subsequent influence,\nin the tenth and eleventh centuries, upon Welsh, and through Welsh upon\nthe early Breton literature (now lost) appears to be established; it is\nusually supposed that its action upon the earliest French compositions\nwas only through the medium of these languages, but it is at least\npossible that its influence in this case also was more direct.  In\nMerovingian and early Carlovingian times, when French songs were\ncomposed, which are now lost but must have preceded the extant chansons\nde geste, the Irish schools were attracting scholars from the\nneighbouring countries of Europe; Ireland was sending out a steady\nstream of \"learned men\" to France, Germany, and Italy; and it is at\nleast possible that some who knew the Irish teachers realized the merit\nof the literary works with which some of these teachers must have been\nfamiliar.  The form of the twelfth-century French romance, \"Aucassin\nand Nicolete,\" is that of the chief Irish romances, and may well have\nbeen suggested by them; whilst the variety of the rhythm and the\nelaborate laws of the earliest French poetry, which, both in its\nNorthern and Southern form, dates from the first half of the twelfth\ncentury, almost imply a pre-existing model; and such a model is more\neasily traced in Irish than in any other vernacular literature that was\nthen available.  It is indeed nearly as hard to suppose that the\nbeautiful literature of Ireland had absolutely no influence upon\nnations known to be in contact with it, as it would be to hold to the\nbelief that the ancient Cretan civilisation had no effect upon the liter\nary development that culminated in the poems of Homer.\n\nBefore speaking of what the Irish literature was, it may be well to say\nwhat it was not.  The incidents related in it date back, according to\nthe \"antiquaries\" of the ninth to the twelfth centuries, some to the\nChristian era, some to a period long anterior to it; but occasional\nallusions to events that were unknown in Ireland before the\nintroduction of Christianity, and a few to classical personages, show\nthat the form of the present romances can hardly be pre-Christian, or\neven close translations into Old or Middle Irish of Druidic tales.  It\nhas therefore been the fashion to speak of the romances as inaccurate\nsurvivals of pre-Christian works, which have been added to by\nsuccessive generations of \"bards,\" a mode of viewing our versions of\nthe romances which of course puts them out of the category of original\nliterature and hands them over to the antiquarians; but before they\nsuffer this fate, it is reasonable to ask that their own literary merit\nshould be considered in a more serious manner than has yet been\nattempted.\n\nThe idea that our versions of the romances are inaccurate reproductions\nof Druidic tales is not at all borne out by a study of the romances\nthemselves; for each of these, except for a few very manifestly late\ninsertions, has a style and character of its own.  There were,\nundoubtedly, old traditions, known to the men who in the sixth and\nseventh centuries may have written the tales that we have, known even\nto men who in the tenth and eleventh centuries copied them and\ncommented upon them; but the romances as they now stand do not look\nlike pieces of patchwork, but like the works of men who had ideas to\nconvey; and to me at least they seem to bear approximately the same\nrelation to the Druid legends as the works of the Attic tragedians bear\nto the archaic Greek legends on which their tragedies were based.  In\nmore than one case, as in the \"Courtship of Etain,\" which is more fully\ndiscussed below, there are two versions of the same tale, the framework\nbeing the same in both, while the treatment of the incidents and the\nview of the characters of the actors is essentially different; and when\nthe story is treated from the antiquarian point of view, that which\nregards both versions as resting upon a common prehistoric model, the\nquestion arises, which of the two more nearly represents the \"true\"\nversion? There is, I would submit, in such cases, no true version.  The\nold Druidic story, if it could be found, would in all probability\ncontain only a very small part of either of our two versions; it would\nbe bald, half-savage in tone, like one of the more ancient Greek myths,\nand producing no literary effect; the literary effect of both the\nversions that we have, being added by men who lived in Christian times,\nwere influenced by Christian ideals, and probably were, like many of\ntheir contemporaries, familiar with the literary bequests of the\nancient world.[FN#2]\n\n\n[FN#2]  It seems to be uncertain whether or not the writers of the\nIrish romances shared in the classical learning for which Ireland was\nnoted in their time.  The course of study at the schools established\nfor the training of the fili in the tenth and eleventh centuries was\ncertainly, as has been pointed out, very different from that of the\necclesiastical schools (see Joyce, vol. i. p. 430).  No classical\ninstruction was included in this training, but it is not certain that\nthis separation of studies was so complete before what is called the\n\"antiquarian age\" set in.  Cormac mac Cuninan, for example, was a\nclassical scholar, and at the same time skilled in the learning of the\nfili.  It should also be observed that the course at the ecclesiastical\nschools, as handed down to us, hardly seems to be classical enough to\nhave produced a Columbanus or an Erigena; the studies that produced\nthese men must have been of a different kind, and the lay schools as\noriginally established by Sanchan Torpest may have included much that\nafterwards gave place to a more purely Irish training.  The tale of\nTroy seems to have been known to the fili, and there are in their works\nallusions to Greek heroes, to Hercules and Hector, but it has been\npointed out by Mr. Nutt that there is little if any evidence of\ninfluence produced by Latin or Greek literature on the actual matter or\nthought of the older Irish work.  On this point reference may be made\nto a note on \"Mae Datho's Boar\" in this volume (p. 173), but even if\nthis absence of classical influence is established (and it is hard to\nsay what will not be found in Irish literature), it is just possible\nthat the same literary feeling which made Irish writers of\ncomparatively late tales keep the bronze weapons and chariots of an\nearlier date in their accounts of ancient wars, while they described\narms of the period when speaking of battles of their own time, affected\nthem in this instance also; and that they had enough restraint to\nrefrain from introducing classical and Christian ideas when speaking of\ntimes in which they knew these ideas would have been unfamiliar.\n\n\nIt may be, and often is, assumed that the appearance of grotesque or\nsavage passages in a romance is an indication of high antiquity, and\nthat these passages at least are faithful reproductions of Druidic\noriginals, but this does not seem to be quite certain.  Some of these\npassages, especially in the case of romances preserved in the Leabhar\nna h-Uidhri (The Book of the Dun Cow), look like insertions made by\nscribes of an antiquarian turn of mind,[FN#3] and are probably of very\nancient date; in other cases, as for example in the \"Boar of Mac\nDatho,\" where Conall dashes Anluan's head into Ket's face, the savagery\nis quite in 'keeping with the character of the story, and way have been\ndeliberately invented by an author living in Christian times, to add a\nflavour to his tale, although in doing so he probably imitated a\nsimilar incident in some other legend.  To take a classical parallel,\nthe barbarity shown by Aeneas in Aeneid x. 518-520, in sacrificing four\nyouths on the funeral pyre of Pallas, an act which would have been\nregarded with horror in Virgil's own day, does not prove that there was\nany ancient tale of the death of Pallas in which these victims were\nsacrificed, nor even that such victims were sacrificed in ancient\nLatium in Pallas' day; but it does show that Virgil was familiar with\nthe fact that such victims used in some places to be sacrificed on\nfuneral pyres; for, in a sense, he could not have actually invented the\nincident.\n\n\n[FN#3]  See the exhibition of the tips of tongues in the \"Sick-bed of\nCuchulain,\" page 57.\n\n\nThus the appearance of an archaic element in an Irish romance is in\nitself no proof of the Druidic origin of that form of the romance, nor\neven of the existence of that element in the romance's earliest form:\nupon such a principle the archaic character of the motif of the\n\"Oedipus Coloneus\" would prove it to be the oldest of the Greek\ntragedies, while as\na matter of fact it seems to be doubtful whether the introduction of\nthis motif into the story of Oedipus was not due to Sophocles himself,\nalthough of course he drew the idea of it, if not from the original\nlegend of Oedipus, from some other early legend.\n\nThe most satisfactory test of the authorship of an Irish romance, and\none of the most satisfactory tests of its date, is its literary\ncharacter; and if we look at the literary character of the best of the\nIrish romances, there is one point that is immediately apparent, the\nblending of prose and verse.  One, the most common, explanation of\nthis, is that the verse was added to the original tale, another that\nthe verse is the older part, the prose being added to make a framework\nfor the verse, but a general view of some of the original romances\nappears to lead to a very different conclusion.  It seems much more\nprobable that the Irish authors deliberately chose a method of making\ntheir work at once literary and suited to please a popular audience;\nthey told their stories in plain prose, adding to them verse, possibly\nchanted by the reciters of the stories, so that while the prose told\nthe story in simple language, the emotions of pity, martial ardour, and\nthe like were awakened by the verse.  They did not use the epic form,\nalthough their knowledge of classical literature must have made them\nfamiliar with it; the Irish epic form is Romance.  They had, besides\nthe prose and what may be called the \"regular\" verse, a third form,\nthat of rose, or as it is sometimes called rhetoric, which is a very\nirregular form of verse.  Sometimes it rhymes, but more often not; the\nlines are of varying lengths, and to scan them is often very difficult,\nan alliteration taking the place of scansion in many cases.  The\nrhetoric does not in general develop the story nor take the form of\ndescription, it usually consists of songs of triumph, challenges,\nprophecies, and exhortations, though it is sometimes used for other\npurposes.  It does not conform to strict grammatical rules like the\nmore regular verse and the prose, and many of the literal translations\nwhich Irish scholars have made for us of the romances omit this\nrhetoric entirely, owing to the difficulty in rendering it accurately,\nand because it does not develop the plots of the stories.  Notable\nexamples of such omissions are in Miss Faraday's translation of the\nLeabhar na h-Uidhri version of the \"Great Tain,\" and in Whitley Stokes'\ntranslation of the \"Destruction of Da Derga's Hostel.\"  With all\nrespect to these scholars, and with the full consciousness of the\ndifficulty of the task that has naturally been felt by one who has\nvainly attempted to make sense of what their greater skill has omitted,\nit may be suggested that the total omission of such passages injures\nthe literary effect of a romance in a manner similar to the effect of\nomitting all the choric pieces in a Greek tragedy: the rhetoric indeed,\non account of its irregularity, its occasional strophic correspondence,\nits general independence of the action of the tale, and its difficulty\nas compared with the other passages, may be compared very closely to a\nGreek \"chorus.\"  Few of the romances written in prose and verse are\nentirely without rhetoric; but some contain very little of it; all the\nsix romances of this character given in the present volume (counting as\ntwo the two versions of \"Etain\") contain some rhetoric, but there are\nonly twenty-one such passages in the collection altogether, ten of\nwhich are in one romance, the \"Sick-bed of Cuchulain.\"\n\nThe present collection is an attempt to give to English readers some of\nthe oldest romances in English literary forms that seem to correspond\nto the literary forms which were used in Irish to produce the same\neffect, and has been divided into two parts.  The first part contains\nfive separate stories, all of which are told in the characteristic form\nof prose and verse: they are the \"Courtship of Etain,\" the \"Boar of Mac\nDatho,\" the \"Sick-bed of Cuchulain,\" the \"Death of the Sons of Usnach\"\n(Book of Leinster version), and the \"Combat at the Ford\" out of the\nBook of Leinster version of the \"Tain bo Cuailnge.\"  Two versions are\ngiven of the \"Courtship of Etain \"; and the \"Sick-bed of Cuchulain,\" as\nis pointed out in the special preface prefixed to it, really consists\nof two independent versions.  It was at first intended to add the\nbetter-known version of the \"Death of the Sons of Usnach\" known as that\nof the Glenn Masain MS., but the full translation of this has been\nomitted, partly to avoid making the volume too bulky, partly because\nthis version is readily attainable in a literal form; an extract from\nit has, however, been added to the Book of Leinster version for the\npurpose of comparison.  In the renderings given of these romances the\ntranslation of the prose is nearly literal, but no attempt has been\nmade to follow the Irish idiom where this idiom sounds harsh in\nEnglish; actives have been altered to passive forms and the reverse,\nadjectives are sometimes replaced by short sentences which give the\nimage better in English, pronouns, in which Irish is very rich, are\noften replaced by the persons or things indicated, and common words,\nlike iarom, iarsin, iartain, immorro, and the like (meaning thereafter,\nmoreover, &c.), have been replaced by short sentences that refer back\nto the events indicated by the words.  Nothing has been added to the\nIrish, except in the Leabhar na h-Uidhri version of \"Etain,\" where\nthere is a lacuna to be filled up, and there are no omissions.  The\ntranslations of the verse and of the rhetoric are, so far as is\npossible, made upon similar lines; it was at first intended to add\nliteral renderings of all the verse passages, but it was found that to\ndo so would make the volume of an unmanageable size for its purpose.\nLiteral renderings of all the verse passages in \"Etain,\" the first of\nthe tales in volume i., are given in the notes to that story; the\nliteral renderings of Deirdre's lament in the \"Sons of Usnach,\" and of\ntwo poems in \"The Combat at the Ford,\" are also given in full as\nspecimens, but in the case of most of the poems reference is made to\neasily available literal translations either in English or German:\nwhere the literal rendering adopted differs from that referred to, or\nwhere the poem in question has not before been translated, the literal\nrendering has been given in the notes.  These examples will, it is\nbelieved, give a fair indication of the relation between my verse\ntranslations and the originals, the deviations from which have been\nmade as small as possible.  The form of four-line verse divided into\nstanzas has generally been used to render the passages in four-lined\nverse in the Irish, the only exception to this rule being in the verses\nat the end of the \"Boar of Mac Datho\": these are in the nature of a\nballad version of the whole story, and have been rendered in a ballad\nmetre that does not conform to the arrangement in verses of the\noriginal.\n\nThe metre of all the Irish four-lined verses in this volume is, except\nin two short pieces, a seven-syllabled line, the first two lines\nusually rhyming with each other, and the last two similarly\nrhyming,[FN#4] in a few cases in the \"Boar of Mac Datho\" these rhymes\nare alternate, and in the extract from the Glenn Masain version of the\n\"Sons of Usnach\" there is a more complicated rhyme system.  It has not\nbeen thought necessary to reproduce this metre in all cases, as to do\nso would sound too monotonous in English; the metre is, however,\nreproduced once at least in each tale except in that of the \"Death of\nthe Sons of Usnach.\"  The eight-lined metre that occurs in five of the\nverse passages in the \"Combat at the Ford\" has in one case been\nreproduced exactly, and in another case nearly exactly, but with one\nsyllable added to each line; the two passages in this romance that are\nin five-syllabled lines have been reproduced exactly in the Irish\nmetre, in one case with the rhyme-system of the original.  With the\nrhetoric greater liberty has been used; sometimes the original metre\nhas been followed, but more often not; and an occasional attempt has\nbeen made to bring out the strophic correspondence in the Irish.\n\n\n[FN#4]  An example of this metre is as follows:--\n\nAll the elves of Troom seem dead,\nAll their mighty deeds are fled;\nFor their Hound, who hounds surpassed,\nElves have bound in slumber fast.\n\n\nIn the first volume of the collection the presentation has then been\nmade as near as may be to the form and matter of the Irish; in the\nsecond volume, called \"Versified Romances,\" there is a considerable\ndivergence from the Irish form but not from its sense.   This part\nincludes the five \"Tains\" or Cattle-Forays of Fraech, Dartaid, Regamon,\nFlidais, and Regamna; which in the originals differ from the five tales\nin volume i, in that they include no verse, except for a few lines in\nRegamna, most of which are untranslatable.  The last four of these are\nshort pieces written in a prose extremely rapid in its action, and\ncrowded with incident.  They are all expressly named as \"fore-tales,\"\nremscela, or preludes to the story of the great war of Cualnge, which\nis the central event in the Ulster heroic cycle, and appear suited for\nrapid prose recitations, which were apparently as much a feature in\nancient as they are in modern Irish.  Such pieces can hardly be\nreproduced in English prose so as to bring out their character; they\nare represented in English by the narrative ballad, and they have been\nhere rendered in this way.  Literal translations in prose are printed\nupon the opposite page to the verse, these translations being much more\nexact than the translations in the first volume, as the object in this\ncase is to show the literal Irish form, not its literal English\nequivalent, which is in this case the verse.  The \"Tain bo Fraich\" is\nalso, in a sense, a \"fore-tale\" to the Great Raid, but is of a\ndifferent character to the others.  It consists of two parts, the\nsecond of which is not unlike the four that have just been mentioned,\nbut the first part is of a much higher order, containing brilliant\ndescriptions, and at least one highly poetic passage although its Irish\nform is prose.  Fraech has been treated like the other fore-tales, and\nrendered in verse with literal prose opposite to the verse for the\npurpose of comparison.  The notes to all the five Tana in the second\nvolume accompany the text; in the first volume all the notes to the\ndifferent romances are collected together, and placed at the end of the\nvolume.  The second volume also includes a transcript from the\nfacsimile of that part of the Irish text of the tale of Etain which has\nnot before been published, together with an interlinear literal\ntranslation.  It is hoped that this arrangement may assist some who are\nnot Middle Irish scholars to realise what the original romances are.\n\n\nThe manuscript authorities for the eleven different romances (counting\nas two the two versions of \"Etain\") are all old; seven are either in\nthe Leabhar na h-Uidhri, an eleventh-century manuscript, or in the Book\nof Leinster, a twelfth-century one; three of the others are in the\nfourteenth-century Yellow Book of Lecan, which is often, in the case of\ntexts preserved both in it and the Leabhar na h-Uidhri, regarded as the\nbetter authority of the two; and the remaining one, the second version\nof \"Etain,\" is in the fifteenth-century manuscript known as Egerton,\n1782, which gives in an accurate form so many texts preserved in the\nolder manuscripts that it is very nearly as good an authority as they.\nThe sources used in making the translations are also stated in the\nspecial introductions, but it may be mentioned as a summary that the\nfour \"Preludes,\" the Tana of Dartaid, Regamon, Flidais, and Regamna,\nare taken from the text printed with accompanying German translations\nby Windisch in Irische Texte, vol. ii.; Windisch's renderings being\nfollowed in those portions of the text that he translates; for the\n\"Tain bo Fraich\" and the \"Combat at the Ford\" the Irish as given by\nO'Beirne Crowe and by O'Curry, with not very trustworthy English\ntranslations, has been followed; in the case of the fragment of the\nGlenn Masain version of \"Deirdre\" little reference has been made to the\nIrish, the literal translation followed being that given by Whitley\nStokes.  The remaining five romances, the \"Boar of Mac Datho,\" the\nLeinster version of \"Deirdre,\" the \"Sick-bed of Cuchulain,\" the Egerton\nversion of \"Etain,\" and the greater part of the Leabbar na h-Uidhri\nversion of the same, are taken from the Irish text printed without\ntranslation in Irische Texte, vol. i., the end of the Leabhar na\nh-Uidhri version omitted by Windisch being taken from the facsimile of\nthe manuscript published by the Royal Irish Academy.\n\nI have to acknowledge with gratitude many corrections to O'Beirne\nCrowe's translation of the \"Tain bo Fraich\" kindly given me by\nProfessor Kuno Meyer; in the case of O'Curry's translation of the\n\"Combat at the Ford,\" similar help kindly given me by Mr. E. J.\nQuiggin; and in the case of the two versions of \"Etain,\" more\nespecially for the part taken direct from the facsimile, I have to\nexpress gratitude for the kind and ready help given to me by Professor\nStrachan.  Professor Strachan has not only revised my transcript from\nthe facsimile, and supplied me with translations of the many difficult\npassages in this of which I could make no sense, but has revised all\nthe translation which was made by the help of Windisch's glossary to\nthe Irische Texte of both the versions of \"Etain,\" so that the\ntranslations given of these two romances should be especially reliable,\nalthough of course I may have made some errors which have escaped\nProfessor Strachan's notice.  The three other romances which have been\ntranslated from the Irish in Irische Texte have not been similarly\nrevised, but all passages about which there appeared to be doubt have\nbeen referred to in the notes to the individual romances.\n\nIt remains to add some remarks upon the general character of the tales,\nwhich, as may be seen after a very cursory examination, are very\ndifferent both in tone and merit, as might indeed be expected if we\nremember that we are probably dealing with the works of men who were\nseparated from each other by a gap of hundreds of years.  Those who\nhave read the actual works of the ancient writers of the Irish romances\nwill not readily indulge in the generalisations about them used by\nthose to whom the romances are only known by abstracts or a\ncompilation.  Perhaps the least meritorious of those in this collection\nare the \"Tains\" of Dartaid, Regamon, and Flidais, but the tones of\nthese three stories are very different.  Dartaid is a tale of fairy\nvengeance for a breach of faith; Flidais is a direct and simple story\nof a raid like a Border raid, reminding us of the \"riding ballads\" of\nthe Scottish Border, and does not seem to trouble itself much about\nquestions of right or wrong; Regamon is a merry tale of a foray by boys\nand girls; it troubles itself with the rights of the matter even less\nthan Flidais if possible, and is an example of an Irish tale with what\nis called in modern times a \"good ending.\"  It may be noted that these\nlast two tales have no trace of the supernatural element which some\nsuppose that the Irish writers were unable to dispense with.  The \"Tain\nbo Regamna,\" the shortest piece in the collection, is a grotesque\npresentation of the supernatural, and is more closely associated with\nthe Great Tain than any of the other fore-tales to it, the series of\nprophecies with which it closes exactly following the action of the\npart of the Tain, to which it refers.  Some of the grotesque character\nof Regamna appears in the \"Boar of Mac Datho,\" which, however, like\nRegamon and Flidais, has no supernatural element; its whole tone is\narchaic and savage, relieved by touches of humour, but the style of the\ncomposition is much superior to that of the first three stories.  A\nromance far superior to \"Mae Datho\" is the Leinster version of the\nwell-known Deirdre story, the \"Death of the Sons of Usnach.\"  The\nopening of the story is savage, the subsequent action of the prose is\nvery rapid, while the splendid lament at the end, one of the best\nsustained laments in the language, and the restraint shown in its\naccount of the tragic death of Deirdre, place this version of the story\nin a high position.  As has been already mentioned, parts of the\nfifteenth-century version of the story have been added to this version\nfor purposes of comparison: the character of the Deirdre of the\nLeinster version would not have been in keeping with the sentiment of\nthe lament given to her in the later account.\n\nThe remaining five romances (treating as two the two versions of\n\"Etain\") all show great beauty in different ways.  Three of the four\ntales given in them have \"good endings,\" and the feeling expressed in\nthem is less primitive than that shown in the other stories, although\nit is an open question whether any of them rises quite so high as\nDeirdre's lament.  \"Fraech\" has, as has been mentioned before, two\nquite separate parts; the second part is of inferior quality, showing,\nhowever, an unusual amount of knowledge of countries lying outside\nCeltdom, but the first is a most graceful romance; although the hero is\na demi-god, and the fairies play a considerable part in it, the\ninterest is essentially human; and the plot is more involved than is\nthe case in most of the romances.  It abounds in brilliant\ndescriptions; the description of the Connaught palace is of antiquarian\ninterest; and one of the most beautiful pieces of Celtic mythology, the\nparentage of the three fairy harpers, is included in it.\n\nThe \"Sick-bed of Cuchulain\" and the Leabhar na h-Uidhri version of the\n\"Courtship of Etain\" seem to have had their literary effect injured by\nthe personality of the compiler of the manuscript from which the\nLeabhar na h-Uidhri was copied.  Seemingly an antiquarian, interested\nin the remains of the old Celtic religion and in old ceremonies, he has\ninserted pieces of antiquarian information into several of the romances\nthat he has preserved for us, and though these are often of great\ninterest in themselves, they spoil the literary effect of the romances\nin which they appear.  It is possible that both the Leabhar na h-Uidhri\nversion of \"Etain\" and the \"Sick-bed\" might be improved by a little\njudicious editing; they have, however, been left just as they stand in\nthe manuscript.  The \"Sick-bed,\" as is pointed out in the special\nintroduction to it, consists of two separate versions; the first has\nplainly some of the compiler's comments added to it, but the second and\nlonger part seems not to have been meddled with; and, although a\nfragment, it makes a stately romance, full of human interest although\ndealing with supernatural beings; and its conclusion is especially\nremarkable in early literature on account of the importance of the\naction of the two women who are the heroines of this part of the tale.\nThe action of Fand in resigning her lover to the weaker mortal woman\nwho has a better claim upon him is quite modern in its tone.\n\nThe nearest parallel to the longer version of the \"Sick-bed\" is the\nEgerton version of \"Etain,\" which is a complete one, and makes a\nstately romance.  It is full of human interest, love being its keynote;\nit keeps the supernatural element which is an essential to the original\nlegend in the background, and is of quite a different character to the\nearlier Leabhar na h-Uidhri version, although there is no reason to\nassume that the latter is really the more ancient in date.  In the\nLeabbar na h-Uidhri version of \"Etain,\" all that relates to the\nlove-story is told in the baldest manner, the part which deals with the\nsupernatural being highly descriptive and poetic.  I am inclined to\nbelieve that the antiquarian compiler of the manuscript did here what\nhe certainly did in the case of the \"Sick-bed of Cuchulain,\" and pieced\ntogether two romances founded upon the same legend by different\nauthors.  The opening of the story in Fairyland and the concluding part\nwhere Mider again appears are alike both in style and feeling, while\nthe part that comes between is a highly condensed version of the\nlove-story of the Egerton manuscript, and suggests the idea of an\nabstract of the Egerton version inserted into the story as originally\ncomposed, the effect being similar to that which would be produced upon\nus if we had got Aeschylus' \"Choaphorae\" handed down to us with a\ncondensed version of the dialogue between Electra and Chrysothemis out\nof Sophocles' \"Electra\" inserted by a conscientious antiquarian who\nthought that some mention of Chrysothemis was necessary.  This version\nof the legend, however, with its strong supernatural flavour, its\ninsistence on the idea of re-birth, its observation of nature, and\nespecially the fine poem in which Mider invites Etain to Fairyland, is\na most valuable addition to the literature, and we have to lament the\ngap in it owing to the loss of a column in that part of the Leabhar na\nh-Uidhri manuscript which has been preserved.\n\nThe last piece to be mentioned is the extract from the \"Tain be\nCuailnge\" known as the \"Combat at the Ford.\"  This seems to me the\nfinest specimen of old Irish work that has been preserved for us; the\nbrilliance of its descriptions, the appropriate changes in its metres,\nthe chivalry of its sentiments, and the rapidity of its action should,\neven if there were nothing to stand beside it in Irish literature, give\nthat literature a claim to be heard: as an account of a struggle\nbetween two friends, it is probably the finest in any literature.  It\nhas been stated recently, no doubt upon sound authority, that the\ngrammatical forms of this episode show it to be late, possibly dating\nonly to the eleventh century.  The manuscript in which it appears,\nhowever, is of the earlier part of the twelfth century; no literary\nmodem work other than Irish can precede it in time; and if it is the\nwork of an eleventh-century author, it does seem strange that his name\nor the name of some one of that date who could have written it has not\nbeen recorded, as MacLiag's name has been as the traditional author of\nthe eleventh-century \"Wars of the Gaedhill and the Gaill,\" for the\nnames of several Irish authors of that period axe well known, and the\nEarly Middle Irish texts of that period are markedly of inferior\nquality.  Compare for example the Boromaean Tribute which Stokes\nconsiders to take high rank among texts of that period (Revue Celtique,\nxiii. p. 32).  One would certainly like to believe that this episode of\nthe \"Combat at the Ford\" belongs to the best literary period, with\nwhich upon literary grounds it seems to be most closely connected.\n\nBut, whether this comparative lateness of the \"Combat at the Ford\" be\ntrue or not, it, together with all the varied work contained in this\ncollection, with the possible exception of the short extract from the\nGlenn Masain \"Deirdre,\" is in the actual form that we have it, older\nthan the Norman Conquest of Ireland, older than the Norse Sagas.  Its\nmanuscript authority is older than that of the Volsunga Saga; its\npresent form precedes the birth of Chretien de Troyes, the first\nconsiderable name in French literature, and, in a form not much unlike\nthat in which we have it, it is probably centuries older than its\nactual manuscript date.  The whole thing stands at the very beginning\nof the literature of Modern Europe, and compares by no means\nunfavourably with that which came after, and may, in part, have been\ninspired by it.  Surely it deserves to be raised from its present\nposition as a study known only to a few specialists, and to form part\nof the mental equipment of every man who is for its own sake interested\nin and a lover of literature.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION IN VERSE\n\n\n\n'Tis hard an audience now to win\nFor lore that Ireland's tales can teach;\nAnd faintly, 'mid the modern din,\nIs heard the old heroic speech.\n\nFor long the tales in silence slept;\nThe ancient tomes by few were read;\nE'en those who still its knowledge kept\nHave thought the living music dead.\n\nAnd some, to save the lore from death,\nWith modern arts each tale would deck,\nInflate its rhymes with magic breath,\nAs if to buoy a sinking wreck.\n\nThey graft new morbid magic dreams\nOn tales where beating life is felt:\nIn each romance find mystic gleams,\nAnd traces of the \"moody Celt.\"\n\nYet, though with awe the grassy mound\nThat fairies haunt, is marked to-day;\nAnd though in ancient tales are found\nDim forms of gods, long passed away;\n\nThough later men to magic turned,\nInserting many a Druid spell;\nAnd ill the masters' craft had learned\nWho told the tales, and told them well;\n\nNo tale should need a magic dress\nOr modern art, its life to give:\nEach for itself, or great, or less,\nShould speak, if it deserves to live.\n\nThink not a dull, a scribal pen\nDead legends wrote, half-known, and feared:\nIn lettered lands to poet men\nRomance, who lives to-day, appeared.\n\nFor when, in fear of warrior bands,\nHad Learning fled the western world,\nAnd, raised once more by Irish hands,\nHer banner stood again unfurled;\n\n'Twas there, where men her laws revered,\nThat Learning aided Art's advance;\nAnd Ireland bore, and Ireland reared\nThese Eldest Children of Romance.\n\nHer poets knew the Druid creeds;\nYet not on these their thoughts would rest:\nThey sang of love, of heroes' deeds,\nOf kingly pomp, of cheerful jest.\n\nNot as in Greece aspired their thought,\nThey joyed in battles wild and stern;\nYet pity once to men they taught\nFrom whom a fiercer age could learn.\n\nTheir frequent theme was war: they sang\nThe praise of chiefs of courage high;\nYet, from their harps the accents rang\nThat taught to knighthood chivalry.\n\nTheir heroes praise a conquered foe,\nOppose their friends for honour's sake,\nTo weaker chieftains mercy show,\nAnd strength of cruel tyrants break.\n\nTheir nobles, loving fame, rejoice\nIn glory, got from bards, to shine;\nYet thus ascends Cuchulain's voice:\n\"No skill indeed to boast is mine!\"\n\nThey sang, to please a warlike age,\nOf wars, and women's wild lament,\nYet oft, restraining warriors' rage,\nTheir harps to other themes were bent.\n\nThey loved on peaceful pomp to dwell,\nRejoiced in music's magic strains,.\nAll Nature's smiling face loved well,\nAnd \"glowing hues of flowery plains.\"\n\nThough oft of Fairy Land they spoke,\nNo eerie beings dwelled therein,\n'Twas filled throughout with joyous folk\nLike men, though freed from death and sin.\n\nAnd sure those bards were truest knights\nWhose thoughts of women high were set,\nNor deemed them prizes, won in fights,\nBut minds like men's, and women yet.\n\nWith skilful touch they paint us each,\nEtain, whose beauty's type for all;\nScathach, whose warriors skill could teach\nEmer, whose words in wisdom fall;\n\nDeirdre the seer, by love made keen;\nFlidais, whose bounty armies feeds\nThe prudent Mugain, Conor's queen;\nCrund's wife, more swift than Conor's steeds;\n\nFinnabar, death for love who dared;\nRevengeful Ferb, who died of grief\nFand, who a vanquished rival spared;\nQueen Maev, who Connaught led, its chief.\n\nNot for the creeds their lines preserve\nShould Ireland's hero tales be known\nTheir pictured pages praise deserve\nFrom all, not learned men alone.\n\nTheir works are here; though flawed by time,\nTo all the living verses speak\nOf men who taught to Europe rhyme,\nWho knew no masters, save the Greek.\n\nIn forms like those men loved of old,\nNaught added, nothing torn away,\nThe ancient tales again are told,\nCan none their own true magic sway?\n\n\n\n\nPRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES\n\n\n\nThe following list of suggested pronunciations does not claim to be\ncomplete or to be necessarily correct in all cases.  Some words like\nFerdia and Conchobar (Conor) have an established English pronunciation\nthat is strictly speaking wrong; some, like Murthemne are doubtful; the\nsuggestions given here are those adopted by the editor for such\ninformation as is at his disposal.  It seems to be unnecessary to give\nall the names, as the list would be too long; this list contains those\nnames in the first volume as are of frequent occurrence; names that\noccur less commonly, and some of those in the following list, have a\npronunciation indicated in foot-notes.  The most important names are in\nsmall capitals.\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF NAMES\n\n\n\nAife (Ee-fa), pp. 117, 129, 1342 141, 148, an instructress of\nCuchulain, Ferdia, and others in the art of war.\n\nCathbad (Cah-ba), pp. 91, 92, 93, 95, a Druid.\n\nCualgne (Kell-ny), mentioned in the Preface, Introductions, the\n\"Combat\" and elsewhere; a district corresponding to County Louth.\n\nCuchulain (Cu-hoo-lin), the hero of the \"Sick-bed\" and the \"Combat,\"\nand of the Ulster Heroic cycle in general.\n\nDeirdre (Dire-dree), the heroine of the \"Exile of the Sons of Usnach.\"\n\nDubhtach (Doov-ta), pp. 48, 97, 98, 107, an Ulster hero.\n\nEochaid Airem (Yeo-hay Arrem), the king in the \"Courtship of Etain.\"\n\nEochaid Juil (Yeo-hay Yool), pp. 63, 70, 76, 79, a fairy king killed by\nCuchulain.\n\nEogan mac Durthacht (Yeogan mac Door-ha), pp. 43, 48, 93, 97, 101, 107;\nan Ulster hero, the slayer of the sons of Usnach.\n\nEtain (Et-oyn), the heroine of the \"Courtship of Etain.\"\n\nFerdia (Fer-dee-a), Cuchulain's opponent in the \"Combat at the Ford.\"\nThe true pronunciation is probably Fer-deed.\n\nFuamnach (Foom-na), pp. 79 9, 10, 19, 26, a sorceress.\n\nLaeg (Layg), son of Riangabra (Reen-gabra), the charioteer and friend\nof Cuchulain, frequently mentioned in the \"Sick-bed\" and the \"Combat at\nthe Ford.\"\n\nLaegaire (Leary), pp. 42, 46, 67, an Ulster hero.\n\nLeabhar na h-Uidhri (Lyow-er na hoorie), frequently mentioned, the\noldest Irish manuscript of romance.  It means the \"Book of the Dun\nCow,\" sometimes referred to as L.U.\n\nMac Datho (Mac Da-ho), king of Leinster in the \"Boar of Mac Datho,\" the\nword means \"son of two mutes.\"\n\nMurthemne (Moor-temmy), pp. 57, 59, 61, 73, 77, 78, a district in\nUlster, with which Cuchulain is connected in the \"Sick-bed\" (in the\n\"Combat\" he is \"Cuchulain of Cualgne\").\n\nNaisi (Nay-see), the hero of the \"Exile of the Sons of Usnach.\"\n\nScathach (Ska-ha), pp. 117, 129) 131, 134, 141, 149, 151 a sorceress in\nthe Isle of Skye, instructress of Cuchulain in war.\n\nUathach (Oo-ha), pp. 117, 129, 134; 141) 149, daughter of Scathach.\n\n\n\n\nOther prominent characters, in the pronunciation of whose names as\ngiven in the text no special assistance is required, are:\n\n\n\nAilill mac Mata (Al-ill), king of Connaught.\n\nAilill Anglonnach, lover of Etain, in the \"Courtship of Etain.\"\n\nConall Cernach, Conall the Victorious, second champion of Ulster after\nCuchulain.\n\nConor (properly spelt Conchobar and pronounced Con-ower), king of\nUlster.\n\nEmer, wife of Cuchulain, appears often in the \"Sick-bed.\"  This name is\nby some pronounced A-vair, probably from a different spelling.\n\nFand, the fairy princess, in love with Cuchulain, in the \"Sick-bed.\"\n\nFergus, son of Rog, prominent in the \"Exile of the Sons of Usnach,\" and\nin \"Combat\"; step-father to King Conor, he appears in most of the\nromances.\n\nKet (spelt Cet), son of Mata, the Connaught champion, appears in the\n\"Boar of Mac Datho.\"\n\nMaev (spelt Medb), the great Queen of Connaught.\n\nMider, Etain's fairy lover, in the \"Courtship of Etain.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n\nTHE COURTSHIP OF ETAIN\n\nMAC DATHO'S BOAR\n\nTHE SICK-BED OF CUCHULAIN\n\nTHE EXILE OF THE SONS OF USNACH\n\nTHE COMBAT AT THE FORD\n\nSPECIAL NOTE ON THE COMBAT AT THE FORD\n\nGENERAL NOTES\n\n\n\n\nTHE COURTSHIP OF ETAIN\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThe date which tradition assigns to the events related in the tale of\nthe \"Courtship of Etain\" is about B.C. 100, two or, according to some\naccounts, three generations before the king Conaire Mor, or Conary,\nwhose death is told in the tale called the \"Destruction of Da Derga's\nHostel.\"  This king is generally spoken of as a contemporary of the\nchief personages of what is called more especially the \"Heroic Age\" of\nIreland; and the two versions of the \"Courtship of Etain\" given in this\nvolume at once introduce a difficulty; for the sub-kings who were\ntributary to Eochaid, Etain's husband, are in both versions stated to\nbe Conor, Ailill mac Mata, Mesgegra, and Curoi, all of whom are\nwell-known figures in the tales of the Heroic Age.  As Conary is\nrelated to have ruled sixty years, and several of the characters of the\nHeroic Age survived him, according to the tale that describes his\ndeath, the appearance of the names of Conor and Ailill in a tale about\nhis grandfather (or according to the Egerton version his\ngreat-grandfather) introduces an obvious discrepancy.\n\nIt appears to be quite impossible to reconcile the dates given to the\nactors in the tales of the Heroic and preceding age.  They seem to have\nbeen given in the \"antiquarian age\" of the tenth and eleventh\ncenturies; not only do they differ according to different chronologers\nby upwards of a hundred years, but the succession of kings in the\naccounts given by the same chronologer is often impossible in view of\ntheir mutual relationships.  The real state of things appears to be\nthat the \"Courtship of Etain,\" together with the story of Conary, the\nlost tale of the destruction of the Fairy Hill of Nennta,[FN#5] and the\ntale of the Bull-Feast and election of Lugaid Red-Stripes as king of\nIreland, forms a short cycle of romance based upon ancient legends that\nhad originally no connection at all with those on which the romances of\nthe Heroic Age were built.  The whole government of the country is\nessentially different in the two cycles; in the Etain cycle the idea is\nthat of a land practically governed by one king, the vassal kings being\nof quite small importance; in the tales of the Heroic Age proper, the\npicture we get is of two, if not of four, practically independent\nkingdoms, the allusions to any over-king being very few, and in great\npart late.  But when the stories of Etain and of Conary assumed their\npresent forms, when the writers of our romances formed them out of the\ntraditions which descended to them from pro-Christian sources, both\ncycles of tradition were pretty well known; and there was a natural\ntendency to introduce personages from one cycle into the other,\nalthough these personages occupy a subordinate position in the cycle to\nwhich they do not properly belong.  Even Conall Cernach, who is a\nfairly prominent figure in the tale of the death of Conary, has little\nimportance given to him compared with the people who really belong to\nthe cycle, and the other warriors of the Heroic Age mentioned in the\ntale are little but lay figures compared with Conary, Ingcel, and Mac\nCecht.  A wish to connect the two cycles probably accounts for the\nconnection of Lugaid Red-Stripes with Cuchulain, the introduction of\nConor and Ailill into the story of Etain may be due to the same cause,\nand there is no need to suppose that the authors of our versions felt\nthemselves bound by what other men had introduced into the tale of\nConary.  The practice of introducing heroes from one cycle into another\nwas by no means uncommon, or confined to Ireland; Greek heroes' names\nsometimes appear in the Irish tales; Cuchulain, in much later times,\ncomes into the tales of Finn; and in Greece itself, characters who\nreally belong to the time of the Trojan War appear in tales of the\nArgonauts.\n\n\n[FN#5]  A short account of this is in the story of King Dathi (O'Curry\nLectures, p. 286). The tale seems to be alluded to in the quatrain on\np. 10 of this volume.\n\n\nThere are very few corresponding allusions to personages from the small\nEtain cycle found in the great cycle of romances that belong to the\nHeroic Age, but MacCecht's name appears in a fifteenth-century\nmanuscript which gives a version of the tale of Flidais; and I suspect\nan allusion to the Etain story in a verse in the \"Sick-bed of\nCuchulain\" (see note, p. 184).  It may be observed that the\nintroduction of Conor and his contemporaries into the story of Conary's\ngrandparents is an additional piece of evidence that our form of the\nstory of Etain precedes the \"antiquarian age\"; for at that time the\nversion which we have of the story of Conary must have been classical\nand the connection of Conor's warriors with Conary well-known.  A keen\neye was at that time kept on departures from the recognised historical\norder (compare a note by Mr. Nutt in the \"Voyage of Bran,\" vol. ii. p.\n61); and the introduction of Conor into our version of the tale of\nEtain must have been at an earlier date.\n\nThe two versions of the \"Courtship of Etain,\" the Egerton one, and that\nin the Leabhar na h-Uidhri, have been compared in the general preface\nto the volume, and little more need be said on this point; it may,\nhowever, be noted that eight pages of the Egerton version (pp. 11 to\n18) are compressed into two pages in L.U. (pp. 23 and 24).  References\nto the Etain story are found in different copies of the \"Dindshenchas,\"\nunder the headings of Rath Esa, Rath Croghan, and Bri Leith; the\nprincipal manuscript authorities, besides the two translated here, are\nthe Yellow Book of Lecan, pp. 91 to 104, and the Book of Leinster, 163b\n(facsimile).  These do not add much to our versions; there are,\nhowever, one or two new points in a hitherto untranslated manuscript\nsource mentioned by O'Curry (\"Manners and Customs,\" vol. ii. p 192 to\n194).\n\nThe Leabhar na h-Uidhri version is defective both at the beginning and\nat the end; there is also a complete column torn from the manuscript,\nmaking the description of the chess match defective.  These three gaps\nhave been filled up by short passages enclosed in square brackets, at\nthe commencement of the Prologue, on p. 28, and at the end of the L.U.\nversion.  The two first of these insertions contain no matter that\ncannot be found by allusions in the version itself; the conclusion of\nthe tale is drawn, partly from the \"Dindshenchas\" of Rath Esa, partly\nfrom the passage in O'Curry's \"Manners and Customs.\"\n\nThe only alteration that has been made is that, following a suggestion\nin Windisch (Irische Texte, i. p. 132), the poem on page 26 has been\nplaced four pages earlier than the point at which it occurs in the\nmanuscript.  Three very difficult lines (Leabhar na h-Uidhri, 132a,\nlines 12 to 14) have not been attempted; there are no other omissions,\nand no insertions except the three noted above.  The Prologue out of\nthe L.U. version has been placed first, as it is essential to the\nunderstanding of any version, then follows the Egerton version as the\nlonger of the two, then the L.U. version of the Courtship, properly so\ncalled.\n\n\n\n\nPROLOGUE IN FAIRYLAND\n\n\n\nFROM THE LEABHAR NA H-UIDHRI\n\n\nEtain of the Horses, the daughter of Ailill, was the wife of Mider, the\nFairy Dweller in Bri Leith.[FN#6]  Now Mider had also another wife\nnamed Fuamnach[FN#7] who was filled with jealousy against Etain, and\nsought to drive her from her husband's house.  And Fuamnach sought out\nBressal Etarlam the Druid and besought his aid; and by the spells of\nthe Druid, and the sorcery of Fuamnach, Etain was changed into the\nshape of a butterfly that finds its delight among flowers.  And when\nEtain was in this shape she was seized by a great wind that was raised\nby Fuamnach's spells; and she was borne from her husband's house by\nthat wind for seven years till she came to the palace of Angus Mac O'c\nwho was son to the Dagda, the chief god of the men of ancient Erin.\nMac O'c had been fostered by Mider, but he was at enmity with his\nfoster-father, and he recognised Etain, although in her transformed\nshape, as she was borne towards him by the force] of the wind.  And he\nmade a bower for Etain with clear windows for it through which she\nmight pass, and a veil of purple was laid upon her; and that bower was\ncarried about by Mac O'c wherever he went.  And there each night she\nslept beside him by a means that he devised, so that she became\nwell-nourished and fair of form; for that bower was filled with\nmarvellously sweet-scented shrubs, and it was upon these that she\nthrived, upon the odour and blossom of the best of precious herbs.\n\n\n[FN#6]  Pronounced Bree Lay.\n\n[FN#7]  Pronounced Foom-na.\n\n\nNow to Fuamnach came tidings of the love and the worship that Etain had\nfrom Mac O'c, and she came to Mider, and \"Let thy foster-son,\" said\nshe, \"be summoned to visit thee, that I may make peace between you two,\nand may then go to seek for news of Etain.\"  And the messenger from\nMider went to Mac O'c, and Mac O'c went to Mider to greet him; but\nFuamnach for a long time wandered from land to land till she was in\nthat very mansion where Etain was; and then she blew beneath her with\nthe same blast as aforetime, so that the blast carried her out of her\nbower, and she was blown before it, as she had been before for seven\nyears through all the land of Erin, and she was driven by the wind of\nthat blast to weakness and woe.  And the wind carried her over the roof\nof a house where the men of Ulster sat at their ale, so that she fell\nthrough the roof into a cup of gold that stood near the wife of Etar\nthe Warrior, whose dwelling-place was near to the Bay of Cichmany in\nthe province that was ruled over by Conor.  And the woman swallowed\nEtain together with the milk that was in the cup, and she bare her in\nher womb, till the time came that she was born thereafter as in earthly\nmaid, and the name of Etain, the daughter of Etar, was given to her.\nAnd it was one thousand and twelve years since the time of the first\nbegetting of Etain by Ailill to the time when she was born the second\ntime as the daughter of Etar.\n\nNow Etain was nurtured at Inver Cichmany in the house of Etar, with\nfifty maidens about her of the daughters of the chiefs of the land; and\nit was Etar himself who still nurtured and clothed them, that they\nmight be companions to his daughter Etain.  And upon a certain day,\nwhen those maidens were all at the river-mouth to bathe there, they saw\na horseman on the plain who came to the water towards them.  A horse he\nrode that was brown, curvetting, and prancing, with a broad forehead\nand a curly mane and tail.  Green, long, and flowing was the cloak that\nwas about him, his shirt was embroidered with embroidery of red gold,\nand a great brooch of gold in his cloak reached to his shoulder on\neither side.  Upon the back of that man was a silver shield with a\ngolden rim; the handle for the shield was silver, and a golden boss was\nin the midst of the shield: he held in his hand a five-pointed spear\nwith rings of gold about it from the haft to the head.  The hair that\nwas above his forehead was yellow and fair; and upon his brow was a\ncirclet of gold, which confined the hair so that it fell not about his\nface.  He stood for a while upon the shore of the bay; and he gazed\nupon the maidens, who were all filled with love for him, and then he\nsang this song:\n\nWest of Alba, near the Mound[FN#8]\nWhere the Fair-Haired Women play,\nThere, 'mid little children found,\nEtain dwells, by Cichmain's Bay.\n\nShe hath healed a monarch's eye\nBy the well of Loch-da-lee;\nYea, and Etar's wife, when dry,\nDrank her: heavy draught was she!\n\nChased by king for Etain's sake,\nBirds their flight from Teffa wing:\n'Tis for her Da-Arbre's lake\nDrowns the coursers of the king.\n\nEchaid, who in Meath shall reign,\nMany a war for thee shall wage;\nHe shall bring on fairies bane,\nThousands rouse to battle's rage.\n\nEtain here to harm was brought,\nEtain's form is Beauty's test;\nEtain's king in love she sought:\nEtain with our folk shall rest!\n\n\n[FN#8]  The metre of these verses is that of the Irish.\n\n\nAnd after that he had spoken thus, the young warrior went away from the\nplace where the maidens were; and they knew not whence it was that he\nhad come, nor whither he departed afterwards.\nMoreover it is told of Mac O'c, that after the disappearance of Etain\nhe came to the meeting appointed between him and Mider; and when he\nfound that Fuamnach was away: \"'Tis deceit,\" said Mider, \"that this\nwoman hath practised upon us; and if Etain shall be seen by her to be\nin Ireland, she will work evil upon Etain.\"  \"And indeed,\" said Mac\nO'c, \"it seemeth to me that thy guess may be true. For Etain hath long\nsince been in my own house, even in the palace where I dwell; moreover\nshe is now in that shape into which that woman transformed her; and\n'tis most likely that it is upon her that Fuamnach hath rushed.\"  Then\nMac O'c went back to his palace, and he found his bower of glass empty,\nfor Etain was not there. And Mac O'c turned him, and he went upon the\ntrack of Fuamnach, and he overtook her at Oenach Bodbgnai, in the house\nof Bressal Etarlam the Druid.  And Mac O'c attacked her, and he struck\noff her head, and he carried the head with him till he came to within\nhis own borders.\n\nYet a different tale hath been told of the end of Fuamnach, for it hath\nbeen said that by the aid of Manannan both Fuamnach and Mider were\nslain in Bri Leith, and it is of that slaying that men have told when\nthey said:\n\nThink on Sigmall, and Bri with its forest:\nLittle wit silly Fuamnach had learned;\nMider's wife found her need was the sorest,\nWhen Bri Leith by Manannan was burned.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COURTSHIP OF ETAIN\n\n\n\nEGERTON VERSION\n\n\nOnce there was a glorious and stately king who held the supreme\nlordship over all the land of Ireland.  The name of the king was\nEochaid Airemm, and he was the son of Finn, who was the son of Finntan;\nwho was the son of Rogan the Red; who was the son of Essamain; who was\nthe son of Blathecht; who was the son of Beothecht; who was the son of\nLabraid the Tracker; who was the son of Enna the Swift; who was the son\nof Angus of Tara, called the Shamefaced; who was the son of Eochaid the\nBroad-jointed; who was the son of Ailill of the Twisted Teeth; who was\nthe son of Connla the Fair; who was the son of Irer; who was the son of\nMelghe the Praiseworthy; who was the son of Cobhtach the Slender from\nthe plain of Breg; who was the son of Ugaine the Great; who was the son\nof Eochaid the Victorious.\n\nNow all the five provinces of Ireland were obedient to the rule of\nEochaid Airemm: for Conor the son of Ness, the king of Ulster, was\nvassal to Eochaid; and Messgegra the king of Leinster was his vassal;\nand so was Curoi, the son of Dare, king of the land of Munster; and so\nwere Ailill and Maev, who ruled over the land of Connaught.  Two great\nstrongholds were in the hands of Eochaid: they were the strongholds of\nFremain in Meath, and of Fremain in Tethba; and the stronghold that he\nhad in Tethba was more pleasing to him than any of those that he\npossessed.\nLess than a year had passed since Eochaid first assumed the sovereignty\nover Erin, when the news was proclaimed at once throughout all the land\nthat the Festival of Tara should be held, that all the men of Ireland\nshould come into the presence of their king, and that he desired full\nknowledge of the tributes due from, and the customs proper to each.\nAnd the one answer that all of the men of Ireland made to his call was:\n\"That they would not attend the Festival of Tara during such time,\nwhether it be long or short, that the king of Ireland remained without\na wife that was worthy of him;\" for there is no noble who is a wifeless\nman among the men of Ireland; nor can there be any king without a\nqueen; nor does any man go to the Festival of Tara without his wife;\nnor does any wife go thither without her husband.\n\nThereupon Eochaid sent out from him his horsemen, and his wizards, and\nhis officers who had the care of the roads, and his couriers of the\nboundaries throughout all Ireland; and they searched all Ireland as\nthey sought for a wife that should be worthy of the king, in her form,\nand her grace, and her countenance, and her birth.  And in addition to\nall this there yet remained one condition: that the king would take as\nhis wife none who had been before as a wife to any other man before him.\n\nAnd after that they had received these commands, his horsemen, and his\nwizards, and his officers who had the care of the roads, and the\ncouriers of the boundaries went out; and they searched all Ireland\nsouth and north; and near to the Bay of Cichmany they found a wife\nworthy of the king; and her name was Etain the daughter of Etar, who\nwas the king of Echrad.  And his messengers returned to Eochaid, and\nthey told him of the maiden, of her form, and her grace, and her\ncountenance.  And Eochaid came to that place to take the maiden thence,\nand this was the way that he took; for as he crossed over the ground\nwhere men hold the assembly of Bri Leith, he saw the maiden at the\nbrink of the spring.  A clear comb of silver was held in her hand, the\ncomb was adorned with gold; and near her, as for washing, was a bason\nof silver whereon four birds had been chased, and there were little\nbright gems of carbuncle on the rims of the bason.  A bright purple\nmantle waved round her; and beneath it was another mantle, ornamented\nwith silver fringes: the outer mantle was clasped over her bosom with a\ngolden brooch.  A tunic she wore, with a long hood that might cover her\nhead attached to it; it was stiff and glossy with green silk beneath\nred embroidery of gold, and was clasped over her breasts with\nmarvellously wrought clasps of silver and gold; so that men saw the\nbright gold and the green silk flashing against the sun.  On her head\nwere two tresses of golden hair, and each tress had been plaited into\nfour strands; at the end of each strand was a little ball of gold.  And\nthere was that maiden, undoing her hair that she might wash it, her two\narms out through the armholes of her smock.  Each of her two arms was\nas white as the snow of a single night, and each of her cheeks was as\nrosy as the foxglove.  Even and small were the teeth in her head, and\nthey shone like pearls.  Her eyes were as blue as a hyacinth, her lips\ndelicate and crimson; very high, soft, and white were her shoulders.\nTender, polished, and white were her wrists; her fingers long, and of\ngreat whiteness; her nails were beautiful and pink.  White as the snow,\nor as the foam of the wave, was her side; long was it, slender, and as\nsoft as silk.  Smooth and white were her thighs; her knees were round\nand firm and white; her ankles were as straight as the rule of a\ncarpenter.  Her feet were slim, and as white as the ocean's foam;\nevenly set were her eyes; her eyebrows were of a bluish black, such as\nye see upon the shell of a beetle.  Never a maid fairer than she, or\nmore worthy of love, was till then seen by the eyes of men; and it\nseemed to them that she must be one of those who have come from the\nfairy mounds: it is of this maiden that men have spoken when it hath\nbeen said: \"All that's graceful must be tested by Etain; all that's\nlovely by the standard of Etain.\"\n\nGrace with Etain's grace compare!\nEtain's face shall test what's fair!\n\nAnd desire of her seized upon the king; and he sent a man of his people\nin front of him to go to her kindred, in order that she might abide to\nawait his coming.  And afterwards the king came to the maiden, and he\nsought speech from her: \"Whence art thou sprung, O maiden?\" says\nEochaid, \"and whence is it that thou hast come?\"  \"It is easy to answer\nthee,\" said the maiden: \"Etain is my name, the daughter of the king of\nEchrad; 'out of the fairy mound' am I\"  \"Shall an hour of dalliance\nwith thee be granted to me?\" said Eochaid.  \"'Tis for that I have come\nhither under thy safeguard,\" said she.  \"And indeed twenty years have I\nlived in this place, ever since I was born in the mound where the\nfairies dwell, and the men who dwell in the elf-mounds, their kings and\ntheir nobles, have been a-wooing me: yet to never a one of them was\ngranted sleep with me, for I have loved thee, and have set my love and\naffection upon thee; and that ever since I was a little child, and had\nfirst the gift of speech.  It was for the high tales of thee, and of\nthy splendour, that I have loved thee thus; and though I have never\nseen thee before, I knew thee at once by reason of the report of thee\nthat I had heard; it is thou, I know, to whom we have attained.\"  \"It\nis no evil-minded lover who now inviteth thee,\" says Eochaid.  \"Thou\nshalt be welcomed by me, and I will leave all women for thy sake, and\nthine alone will I be so long as it is pleasing to thee.\"  \"Let the\nbride-price that befits me be paid,\" said the maiden, \"and after that\nlet my desire be fulfilled.\"  \"It shall be as thou hast said,\" the king\nanswered her; and he gave the value of seven cumals to be her\nbrideprice; and after that he brought her to Tara, whereon a fair and\nhearty welcome was made to her.\n\nNow there were three brothers of the one blood, all sons of Finn,\nnamely, Eochaid Airem, and Eochaid, and Ailill Anglonnach, or Ailill of\nthe Single Stain, because the only stain that was upon him was the love\nthat he had for his brother's wife.  And at that time came all the men\nof Ireland to hold the festival of Tara; they were there for fourteen\ndays before Samhain, the day when the summer endeth, and for fourteen\ndays after that day.  It was at the feast of Tara that love for Etain\nthe daughter of Etar came upon Ailill Anglonnach; and ever so long as\nthey were at the Tara Feast, so long he gazed upon the maid.  And it\nwas there that the wife of Ailill spoke to him; she who was the\ndaughter of Luchta of the Red Hand, who came from the province of\nLeinster: \"Ailill,\" said she, \"why dost thou gaze at her from afar? for\nlong gazing is a token of love.\"  And Ailill gave blame to himself for\nthis thing, and after that he looked not upon the maid.\n\nNow it followed that after that the Feast of Tara had been consumed,\nthe men of Ireland parted from one another, and then it was that Ailill\nbecame filled with the pangs of envy and of desire; and he brought upon\nhimself the choking misery of a sore sickness, and was borne to the\nstronghold of Fremain in Tethba after that he had fallen into that woe.\n There also, until a whole year had ended, sickness long brooded over\nAilill, and for long was he in distress, yet he allowed none to know of\nhis sickness.  And there Eochaid came to learn of his brother's state,\nand he came near to his brother, and laid his hand upon his chest; and\nAilill heaved a sigh.  \"Why,\" said Eochaid, \"surely this sickness of\nthine is not such as to cause thee to lament; how fares it with thee?\"\n\"By my word,\" said Ailill, \"'tis no easier that I grow; but it is worse\neach day, and each night.\"  \"Why, what ails thee?\" said Eochaid, \"By my\nword of truth,\" said Ailill, \"I know not.\"  \"Bring one of my folk\nhither,\" said Eochaid, \"one who can find out the cause of this illness.\"\n\nThen Fachtna, the chief physician of Eochaid, was summoned to give aid\nto Ailill, and he laid his hand upon his chest, and Ailill heaved a\nsigh.  \"Ah,\" said Fachtna, \"there is no need for lament in this matter,\nfor I know the cause of thy sickness; one or other of these two evils\noppresseth thee, the pangs of envy, or the pangs of love: nor hast thou\nbeen aided to escape from them until now.\"  And Ailill was full of\nshame, and he refused to confess to Fachtna the cause of his illness,\nand the physician left him.\n\nNow, after all this, king Eochaid went in person to make a royal\nprogress throughout the realm of Ireland, and he left Etain behind him\nin his fortress; and \"Lady,\" said he, \"deal thou gently with Ailill so\nlong as he is yet alive; and, should he die,\" said he, \"do thou see\nthat his burial mound be heaped for him; and that a standing-stone be\nset up in memory of him; and let his name be written upon it in letters\nof Ogham.\"  Then the king went away for the space of a year, to make\nhis royal progress throughout the realm of Ireland, and Ailill was left\nbehind, in the stronghold of Fremain of Tethba; there to pass away and\nto die.\n\nNow upon a certain day that followed, the lady Etain came to the house\nwhere Ailill lay in his sickness, and thus she spoke to him: \"What is\nit,\" she said, \"that ails thee? thy sickness is great, and if we but\nknew anything that would content thee, thou shouldest have it.\"  It was\nthus that at that time she spoke, and she sang a verse of a song, and\nAilill in song made answer to her:\n\n\nEtain\n\nYoung man, of the strong step and splendid,\nWhat hath bound thee? what ill dost thou bear?\nThou hast long been on sick-bed extended,\nThough around thee the sunshine was fair.\n\n\nAilill\n\nThere is reason indeed for my sighing,\nI joy naught at my harp's pleasant sound;\nMilk untasted beside me is lying;\nAnd by this in disease am I bound.\n\n\nEtain\n\nTell me all, thou poor man, of thine ailing;\nFor a maiden am I that is wise;\nIs there naught, that to heal thee availing,\nThou couldst win by mine aid, and arise\n\n\nAilill\n\nIf I told thee, thou beautiful maiden,\nMy words, as I formed them, would choke,\nFor with fire can eyes' curtains be laden:\nWoman-secrets are evil, if woke.\n\n\nEtain\n\nIt is ill woman-secrets to waken;\nYet with Love, its remembrance is long;\nAnd its part by itself may be taken,\nNor a thought shall remain of the wrong.\n\n\nAilill\n\nI adore thee, white lady, as grateful;\nYet thy bounty deserve I but ill:\nTo my soul is my longing but hateful,\nFor my body doth strive with me still.\n\nEocho Fedlech,[FN#9] his bride to him taking,\nMade thee queen; and from thence is my woe:\nFor my head and my body are aching,\nAnd all Ireland my weakness must know.\n\n\nEtain\n\nIf, among the white women who near me abide,\nThere is one who is vexing, whose love thou dost hide;\nTo thy side will I bring her, if thus I may please;\nAnd in love thou shalt win her, thy sickness to ease.\n\n\nAh lady! said Ailill, \"easily could the cure of my sickness be wrought\nby the aid of thee, and great gain should there come from the deed, but\nthus it is with me until that be accomplished:\n\n\nLong ago did my passion begin,\nA full year it exceeds in its length;\nAnd it holds me, more near than my skin,\nAnd it rules over wrath in its strength.\n\nAnd the earth into four it can shake,\nCan reach up to the heights of the sky\nAnd a neck with its might it can break,\nNor from fight with a spectre would fly.\n\nIn vain race up to heaven 'tis urged;\nIt is chilled, as with water, and drowned:\n'Tis a weapon, in ocean submerged;\n'Tis desire for an echo, a sound.\n\n'Tis thus my love, my passion seem; 'tis thus I strive in vain\nTo win the heart of her whose love I long so much to gain.\n\n\n[FN#9]  Pronounced Yeo-ho Fayllya, see note, p. 166.\n\n\nAnd the lady stood there in that place, and she looked upon Ailill, and\nthe sickness in which he lay was perceived by her; and she was grieved\non account of it: so that upon a certain day came the lady to Ailill,\nand \"Young man,\" she said, \"arouse thyself quickly, for in very truth\nthou shalt have all that thou desirest; and thereon did she make this\nlay:\n\n\nNow arouse thyself, Ailill the royal:\nLet thy heart, and thy courage rise high;\nEvery longing thou hast shall be sated,\nFor before thee, to heal thee, am I.\n\nIs my neck and its beauty so pleasing?\n'Tis around it thine arms thou shalt place;\nAnd 'tis known as a courtship's beginning\nWhen a man and a woman embrace.\n\nAnd if this cometh not to content thee,\nO thou man, that art son to a king!\nI will dare to do crime for thy healing,\nAnd my body to please thee will bring.\n\nThere were steeds, with their bridles, one hundred,\nWhen the price for my wedding was told;\nAnd one hundred of gay-coloured garments,\nAnd of cattle, and ounces of gold.\n\nOf each beast that men know, came one hundred;\nAnd king Eocho to grant them was swift:\nWhen a king gave such dowry to gain me,\nIs't not wondrous to win me, as gift?\n\n\nNow each day the lady came to Ailill to tend him, and to divide for him\nthe portion of food that was allotted to him; and she wrought a great\nhealing upon him: for it grieved her that he should perish for her\nsake.  And one day the lady spoke to Ailill: \"Come thou to-morrow,\"\nsaid she, \"to tryst with me at the break of day, in the house which\nlieth outside, and is beyond the fort, and there shalt thou have\ngranted thy request and thy desire.\"  On that night Ailill lay without\nsleep until the coming of the morning; and when the time had come that\nwas appointed for his tryst, his sleep lay heavily upon him; so that\ntill the hour of his rising he lay deep in his sleep.  And Etain went\nto the tryst, nor had she long to wait ere she saw a man coming towards\nher in the likeness of Ailill, weary and feeble; but she knew that he\nwas not Ailill, and she continued there waiting for Ailill.  And the\nlady came back from her tryst, and Ailill awoke, and thought that he\nwould rather die than live; and he went in great sadness and grief.\nAnd the lady came to speak with him, and when he told her what had\nbefallen him: \"Thou shalt come,\" said she, \"to the same place, to meet\nwith me upon the morrow.\"  And upon the morrow it was the same as upon\nthe first day; each day came that man to her tryst.  And she came again\nupon the last day that was appointed for the tryst, and the same man\nmet her.  \"'Tis not with thee that I trysted,\" said she, \"why dost thou\ncome to meet me? and for him whom I would have met here; neither from\ndesire of his love nor for fear of danger from him had I appointed to\nmeet him, but only to heal him, and to cure him from the sickness which\nhad come upon him for his love of me.\"  \"It were more fitting for thee\nto come to tryst with me,\" says the man, \"for when thou wast Etain of\nthe Horses, and when thou wast the daughter of Ailill, I myself was thy\nhusband.  \"Why,\" said she, \"what name hast thou in the land? that is\nwhat I would demand of thee.\"  \"It is not hard to answer thee,\" he\nsaid; \"Mider of Bri Leith is my name.\"  \"And what made thee to part\nfrom me, if we were as thou sayest?\" said Etain.  \"Easy again is the\nanswer,\" said Mider; \"it was the sorcery of Fuamnach and the spells of\nBressal Etarlam that put us apart.\"  And Mider said to Etain: \"Wilt\nthou come with me?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" answered Etain, \"I will not exchange the king of all Ireland for\nthee; for a man whose kindred and whose lineage is unknown.\"  \"It was I\nmyself indeed,\" said Mider, \"who filled all the mind of Ailill with\nlove for thee: it was I also who prevented his coming to the tryst with\nthee, and allowed him not thine honour to spoil it.\"\n\nAfter all this the lady went back to her house, and she came to speech\nwith Ailill, and she greeted him.  \"It hath happened well for us both,\"\nsaid Ailill, \"that the man met thee there: for I am cured for ever from\nmy illness, thou also art unhurt in thine honour, and may a blessing\nrest upon thee!\"  \"Thanks be to our gods,\" said Etain, \"that both of us\ndo indeed deem that all this hath chanced so well.\"  And after that\nEochaid came back from his royal progress, and he asked at once for his\nbrother; and the tale was told to him from the beginning to the end,\nand the king was grateful to Etain, in that she had been gracious to\nAilill; and, \"What hath been related in this tale,\" said Eochaid, \"is\nwell-pleasing to ourselves.\"\n\nAnd, for the after history of Eochaid and Etain, it is told that once\nwhen Eochaid was in Fremain, at such time as the people had prepared\nfor themselves a great gathering and certain horse-races; thither also\nto that assembly came Etain, that she might see the sight.  Thither\nalso came Mider, and he searched through that assembly to find out\nwhere Etain might be; and he found Etain, and her women around her, and\nhe bore her away with him, also one of her handmaidens, called Crochen\nthe Ruddy: hideous was the form in which Mider approached them.  And\nthe wives of the men of Ireland raised cries of woe, as the queen was\ncarried off from among them; and the horses of Ireland were loosed to\npursue Mider, for they knew not whether it was into the air or into the\nearth he had gone.  But, as for Mider, the course that he had taken was\nthe road to the west, even to the plain of Croghan; and as he came\nthither, \"How shall it profit us,\" said Crochen the Ruddy, \"this\njourney of ours to this plain?\"  \"For evermore,\" said Mider, \"shall thy\nname be over all this plain:\" and hence cometh the name of the plain of\nCroghan, and of the Fort of Croghan.  Then Mider came to the Fairy\nMound of Croghan; for the dwellers in that mound were allied to him,\nand his friends; and for nine days they lingered there, banqueting and\nfeasting; so that \"Is this the place where thou makest thy home?\" said\nCrochen to Mider.  \"Eastwards from this is my dwelling,\" Mider answered\nher; \"nearer to the rising-place of the sun;\" and Mider, taking Etain\nwith him, departed, and came to Bri Leith, where the son of Celthar had\nhis palace.\n\nNow just at the time when they came to this palace, king Eochaid sent\nout from him the horsemen of Ireland, also his wizards, and his\nofficers who had the care of the roads, and the couriers of the\nboundaries, that they might search through Ireland, and find out where\nhis wife might be; and Eochaid himself wandered throughout Ireland to\nseek for his wife; and for a year from that day until the same day upon\nthe year that followed he searched, and he found nothing to profit him.\n\nThen, at the last, king Eochaid sent for his Druid, and he set to him\nthe task to seek for Etain; now the name of the Druid was Dalan.  And\nDalan came before him upon that day; and he went westwards, until he\ncame to the mountain that was after that known as Slieve Dalan; and he\nremained there upon that night.  And the Druid deemed it a grievous\nthing that Etain should be hidden from him for the space of one year,\nand thereupon he made three wands of yew; and upon the wands he wrote\nan ogham; and by the keys of wisdom that he had, and by the ogham, it\nwas revealed to him that Etain was in the fairy mound of Bri Leith, and\nthat Mider had borne her thither.\n\nThen Dalan the Druid turned him, and went back to the east; and he came\nto the stronghold of Fremain, even to the place where the king of\nIreland was; and Eochaid asked from the Druid his news.  Thither also\ncame the horsemen, and the wizards, and the officers who had the care\nof the roads, and the couriers of the boundaries, to the king of\nIreland, and he asked them what tidings they had, and whether they had\nfound news of Mider and Etain.  And they said that they had found\nnothing at all; until at the last said his Druid to him: \"A great evil\nhath smitten thee, also shame, and misfortune, on account of the loss\nof thy wife.  Do thou assemble the warriors of Ireland, and depart to\nBri Leith, where is the palace of the son of Celthar; let that palace\nbe destroyed by thy hand, and there thou shalt find thy wife: by\npersuasion or by force do thou take her thence.\"\n\nThen Eochaid and the men of Ireland marched to Bri Leith, and they set\nthemselves to destroy that fairy dwelling, and to demand that Etain be\nbrought to them, and they brought her not.  Then they ruined that fairy\ndwelling, and they brought Etain out from it; and she returned to\nFremain, and there she had all the worship that a king of Ireland can\nbestow, fair wedded love and affection, such as was her due from\nEochaid Airemm.  This is that Eochaid who ruled over Ireland for twelve\nyears, until the fire burned him in Fremain; and this tale is known by\nthe name of the \"Sick-bed of Ailill,\" also as \"The Courtship of Etain.\"\n Etain bore no children to Eochaid Airemm, save one daughter only; and\nthe name of her mother was given to her, and she is known by the name\nof Etain, the daughter of Eochaid Airemm.  And it was her daughter\nMessbuachalla who was the mother of king Conary the Great, the son of\nEterscel, and it was for this cause that the fairy host of Mag Breg and\nMider of Bri Leith violated the tabus of king Conary, and devastated\nthe plain of Breg, and out off Conary's life; on account of the capture\nof that fairy dwelling, and on account of the recovery of Etain, when\nshe was carried away by violence, even by the might of Eochaid Airemm.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COURTSHIP OF ETAIN\n\n\n\nLEABHAR NA H-UIDHRI VERSION\n\n\nEochaid Airemon took the sovereignty over Erin, and the five provinces\nof Ireland were obedient to him, for the king of each province was his\nvassal.  Now these were they who were the kings of the provinces at\nthat time, even Conor the son of Ness, and Messgegra, and Tigernach\nTetbannach, and Curoi, and Ailill the son of Mata of Muresc.  And the\nroyal forts that belonged to Eochaid were the stronghold of Fremain in\nMeath, and the stronghold of Fremain in Tethba; moreover the stronghold\nof Fremain in Tethba was more pleasing to him than any other of the\nforts of Erin.\n\nNow a year after that Eochaid had obtained the sovereignty, he sent out\nhis commands to the men of Ireland that they should come to Tara to\nhold festival therein, in order that there should be adjusted the taxes\nand the imposts that should be set upon them, so that these might be\nsettled for a period of five years.  And the one answer that the men of\nIreland made to Eochaid was that they would not make for the king that\nassembly which is the Festival of Tara until he found for himself a\nqueen, for there was no queen to stand by the king's side when Eochaid\nfirst assumed the kingdom.\n\nThen Eochaid sent out the messengers of each of the five provinces to\ngo through the land of Ireland to seek for that woman or girl who was\nthe fairest to be found in Erin; and he bade them to note that no woman\nshould be to him as a wife, unless she had never before been as a wife\nto any one of the men of the land.  And at the Bay of Cichmany a wife\nwas found for him, and her name was Etain, the daughter of Etar; and\nEochaid brought her thereafter to his palace, for she was a wife meet\nfor him, by reason of her form, and her beauty, and her descent, and\nher brilliancy, and her youth, and her renown.\n\nNow Finn the son of Findloga had three sons, all sons of a queen, even\nEochaid Fedlech, and Eochaid Airemm, and Ailill Anguba.  And Ailill\nAnguba was seized with love for Etain at the Festival of Tara, after\nthat she had been wedded to Eochaid; since he for a long time gazed\nupon her, and, since such gazing is a token of love, Ailill gave much\nblame to himself for the deed that he was doing, yet it helped him not.\n For his longing was too strong for his endurance, and for this cause\nhe fell into a sickness; and, that there might be no stain upon his\nhonour, his sickness was concealed by him from all, neither did he\nspeak of it to the lady herself.  Then Fachtna, the chief physician of\nEochaid, was brought to look upon Ailill, when it was understood that\nhis death might be near, and thus the physician spoke to him: \"One of\nthe two pangs that slay a man, and for which there is no healing by\nleechcraft, is upon thee; either the pangs of envy or the pangs of\nlove.  And Ailill refused to confess the cause of his illness to the\nphysician, for he was withheld by shame and he was left behind in\nFremain of Tethba to die; and Eochaid went upon his royal progress\nthroughout all Erin, and he left Etain behind him to be near Ailill, in\norder that the last rites of Ailill might be done by her; that she\nmight cause his grave to be dug, and that the keen might be raised for\nhim, and that his cattle should be slain for him as victims.  And to\nthe house where Ailill lay in his sickness went Etain each day to\nconverse with him, and his sickness was eased by her presence; and, so\nlong as Etain was in that place where he was, so long was he accustomed\nto gaze at her.\n\nNow Etain observed all this, and she bent her mind to discover the\ncause, and one day when they were in the house together, Etain asked of\nAilill what was the cause of his sickness.  \"My sickness,\" said Ailill,\n\"comes from my love for thee.\"  \"'Tis pity,\" said she, \"that thou hast\nso long kept silence, for thou couldest have been healed long since,\nhad we but known of its cause.\"  \"And even now could I be healed,\" said\nAilill, \"did I but find favour in thy sight.\"  \"Thou shalt find\nfavour,\" she said.  Each day after they had spoken thus with each\nother, she came to him for the fomenting of his head, and for the\ngiving of the portion of food that was required by him, and for the\npouring of water over his hands; and three weeks after that, Ailill was\nwhole.  Then he said to Etain: \"Yet is the completion of my cure at thy\nhands lacking to me; when may it be that I shall have it?\"  \"'Tis\nto-morrow it shall be,\" she answered him, \"but it shall not be in the\nabode of the lawful monarch of the land that this felony shall be done.\n Thou shalt come,\" she said, \"on the morrow to yonder hill that riseth\nbeyond the fort: there shall be the tryst that thou desirest.\"\n\nNow Ailill lay awake all that night, and he fell into a sleep at the\nhour when he should have kept his tryst, and he woke not from his sleep\nuntil the third hour of the day.  And Etain went to her tryst, and she\nsaw a man before her; like was his form to the form of Ailill, he\nlamented the weakness that his sickness had caused him, and he gave to\nher such answers as it was fitting that Ailill should give.  But at the\nthird hour of the day, Ailill himself awoke: and he had for a long time\nremained in sorrow when Etain came into the house where he was; and as\nshe approached him, \"What maketh thee so sorrowful?\" said Etain.  \"'Tis\nbecause thou wert sent to tryst with me,\" said Ailill, \"and I came not\nto thy presence, and sleep fell upon me, so that I have but now\nawakened from it; and surely my chance of being healed hath now gone\nfrom me.\"  \"Not so, indeed,\" answered Etain, \"for there is a morrow to\nfollow to-day.\"  And upon that night he took his watch with a great\nfire before him, and with water beside him to put upon his eyes.\n\nAt the hour that was appointed for the tryst, Etain came for her\nmeeting with Ailill; and she saw the same man, like unto Ailill, whom\nshe had seen before; and Etain went to the house, and saw Ailill still\nlamenting.  And Etain came three times, and yet Ailill kept not his\ntryst, and she found that same man there every time.  \"'Tis not for\nthee,\" she said, \"that I came to this tryst: why comest thou to meet\nme?  And as for him whom I would have met, it was for no sin or evil\ndesire that I came to meet him; but it was fitting for the wife of the\nking of Ireland to rescue the man from the sickness under which he hath\nso long been oppressed.\"  \"It were more fitting for thee to tryst with\nme myself,\" said the man, \"for when thou wert Etain of the Horses, the\ndaughter of Ailill, it was I who was thy husband.  And when thou camest\nto be wife to me, thou didst leave a great price behind thee; even a\nmarriage price of the chief plains and waters of Ireland, and as much\nof gold and of silver as might match thee in value.\"  \"Why,\" said she,\n\"what is thy name?\"  \"'Tis easy to say,\" he answered; \"Mider of Bri\nLeith is my name.\"  \"Truly,\" said she; \"and what was the cause that\nparted us?\"  \"That also is easy,\" he said; \"it was the sorcery of\nFuamnach, and the spells of Bressal Etarlam.  And then Mider said to\nEtain:\n\n\nWilt thou come to my home, fair-haired lady? to dwell\nIn the marvellous land of the musical spell,\nWhere the crowns of all heads are, as primroses, bright,\nAnd from head to the heel all men's bodies snow-white.\n\nIn that land of no \"mine\" nor of \"thine\" is there speech,\nBut there teeth flashing white and dark eyebrows hath each;\nIn all eyes shine our hosts, as reflected they swarm,\nAnd each cheek with the pink of the foxglove is warm.\n\nWith the heather's rich tint every blushing neck glows,\nIn our eyes are all shapes that the blackbird's egg shows;\nAnd the plains of thine Erin, though pleasing to see,\nWhen the Great Plain is sighted, as deserts shall be.\n\nThough ye think the ale strong in this Island of Fate,\nYet they drink it more strong in the Land of the Great;\nOf a country where marvel abounds have I told,\nWhere no young man in rashness thrusts backward the old.\n\nThere are streams smooth and luscious that flow through that land,\nAnd of mead and of wine is the best at each hand;\nAnd of crime there is naught the whole country within,\nThere are men without blemish, and love without sin.\n\nThrough the world of mankind, seeing all, can we float,\nAnd yet none, though we see them, their see-ers can note;\nFor the sin of their sire is a mist on them flung,\nNone may count up our host who from Adam is sprung.\n\nLady, come to that folk; to that strong folk of mine;\nAnd with gold on thy head thy fair tresses shall shine:\n'Tis on pork the most dainty that then thou shalt feed,\nAnd for drink have thy choice of new milk and of mead.\n\n\"I will not come with thee,\" answered Etain, \"I will not give up the\nking of Ireland for thee, a man who knows not his own clan nor his\nkindred.\"  \"It was indeed myself,\" said Mider, \"who long ago put\nbeneath the mind of Ailill the love that he hath felt for thee, so that\nhis blood ceased to run, and his flesh fell away from him: it was I\nalso who have taken away his desire, so that there might be no hurt to\nthine honour.  But wilt thou come with me to my land,\" said Mider, \"in\ncase Eochaid should ask it of thee?\"  \"I would come in such case,\"\nanswered to him Etain.\n\nAfter all this Etain departed to the house.  \"It hath indeed been good,\nthis our tryst,\" said Ailill, \"for I have been cured of my sickness;\nmoreover, in no way has thine honour been stained.\"  \"'Tis glorious\nthat it hath fallen out so,\" answered Etain.  And afterwards Eochaid\ncame back from his royal progress, and he was grateful for that his\nbrother's life had been preserved, and he gave all thanks to Etain for\nthe great deed she had done while he was away from his palace.\n\nNow upon another time it chanced that Eochaid Airemm, the king of Tara,\narose upon a certain fair day in the time of summer; and he ascended\nthe high ground of Tara to behold the plain of Breg; beautiful was the\ncolour of that plain, and there was upon it excellent blossom, glowing\nwith all hues that are known.  And, as the aforesaid Eochaid looked\nabout and around him, he saw a young strange warrior upon the high\nground at his side.  The tunic that the warrior wore was purple in\ncolour, his hair was of a golden yellow, and of such length that it\nreached to the edge of his shoulders.  The eyes of the young warrior\nwere lustrous and grey; in the one hand he held a five-pointed spear,\nin the other a shield with a white central boss, and with gems of gold\nupon it.  And Eochaid held his peace, for he knew that none such had\nbeen in Tara on the night before, and the gate that led into the Liss\nhad not at that hour been thrown open.\n\nThe warrior came, and placed himself under the protection of Eochaid;\nand \"Welcome do I give,\" said Eochaid, \"to the hero who is yet unknown.\"\n\n\"Thy reception is such as I expected when I came,\" said the warrior.\n\n\"We know thee not,\" answered Eochaid.\n\n\"Yet thee in truth I know well!\" he replied.\n\n\"What is the name by which thou art called?\" said Eochaid.\n\n\"My name is not known to renown,\" said the warrior; \"I am Mider of Bri\nLeith.\"\n\n\"And for what purpose art thou come?\" said Eochaid.\n\n\"I have come that I may play a game at the chess with thee,\" answered\nMider.  \"Truly,\" said Eochaid, \"I myself am skilful at the chess-play.\"\n\n\"Let us test that skill! said Mider.\n\n\"Nay,\" said Eochaid, the queen is even now in her sleep; and hers is\nthe palace in which the chessboard lies.\"\n\n\"I have here with me,\" said Mider, \"a chessboard which is not inferior\nto thine.\"  It was even as he said, for that chessboard was silver, and\nthe men to play with were gold; and upon that board were costly stones,\ncasting their light on every side, and the bag that held the men was of\nwoven chains of brass.\n\nMider then set out the chessboard, and he called upon Eochaid to play.\n\"I will not play,\" said Eochaid, \"unless we play for a stake.\"\n\n\"What stake shall we have upon the game then?\" said Mider.\n\n\"It is indifferent to me,\" said Eochaid.\n\n\"Then,\" said Mider, \"if thou dost obtain the forfeit of my stake, I\nwill bestow on thee fifty steeds of a dark grey, their heads of a\nblood-red colour, but dappled; their ears pricked high, and their\nchests broad; their nostrils wide, and their hoofs slender; great is\ntheir strength, and they are keen like a whetted edge; eager are they,\nhigh-standing, and spirited, yet easily stopped in their course.\"\n\n[Many games were played between Eochaid and Mider; and, since Mider did\nnot put forth his whole strength, the victory on all occasions rested\nwith Eochaid.  But instead of the gifts which Mider had offered,\nEochaid demanded that Mider and his folk should perform for him\nservices which should be of benefit to his realm; that he should clear\naway the rocks and stones from the plains of Meath, should remove the\nrushes which made the land barren around his favourite fort of Tethba,\nshould cut down the forest of Breg, and finally should build a causeway\nacross the moor or bog of Lamrach that men might pass freely across it.\n All these things Mider agreed to do, and Eochaid sent his steward to\nsee how that work was done.  And when it came to the time after sunset,\nthe steward looked, and he saw that Mider and his fairy host, together\nwith fairy oxen, were labouring at the causeway over the bog;] and\nthereupon much of earth and of gravel and of stones was poured into it.\n Now it had, before that time, always been the custom of the men of\nIreland to harness their oxen with a strap over their foreheads, so\nthat the pull might be against the foreheads of the oxen; and this\ncustom lasted up to that very night, when it was seen that the\nfairy-folk had placed the yoke upon the shoulders of the oxen, so that\nthe pull might be there; and in this way were the yokes of the oxen\nafterwards placed by Eochaid, and thence cometh the name by which he is\nknown; even Eochaid Airemm, or Eochaid the Ploughman, for he was the\nfirst of all the men of Ireland to put the yokes on the necks of the\noxen, and thus it became the custom for all the land of Ireland.  And\nthis is the song that the host of the fairies sang, as they laboured at\nthe making of the road:\n\n\nThrust it in hand! force it in hand!\nNobles this night, as an ox-troop, stand:\nHard is the task that is asked, and who\nFrom the bridging of Lamrach shall gain, or rue?\n\n\nNot in all the world could a road have been found that should be better\nthan the road that they made, had it not been that the fairy folk were\nobserved as they worked upon it; but for that cause a breach hath been\nmade in that causeway.  And the steward of Eochaid thereafter came to\nhim; and he described to him that great labouring band that had come\nbefore his eyes, and he said that there was not over the chariot-pole\nof life a power that could withstand its might.  And, as they spake\nthus with each other, they saw Mider standing before them; high was he\ngirt, and ill-favoured was the face that he showed; and Eochaid arose,\nand he gave welcome to him.  \"Thy welcome is such as I expected when I\ncame,\" said Mider.  \"Cruel and senseless hast thou been in thy\ntreatment of me, and much of hardship and suffering hast thou given me.\n All things that seemed good in thy sight have I got for thee, but now\nanger against thee hath filled my mind!\"  \"I return not anger for\nanger,\" answered Eochaid; \"what thou wishest shall be done.\"  \"Let it\nbe as thou wishest,\" said Mider; \"shall we play at the chess?\" said he.\n\"What stake shall we set upon the game?\" said Eochaid.  \"Even such\nstake as the winner of it shall demand,\" said Mider. And in that very\nplace Eochaid was defeated, and he forfeited his stake.\n\n\"My stake is forfeit to thee,\" said Eochaid.\n\n\"Had I wished it, it had been forfeit long ago,\" said Mider.\n\n\"What is it that thou desirest me to grant?\" said Eochaid.\n\n\"That I may hold Etain in my arms, and obtain a kiss from her!\"\nanswered Mider.\n\nEochaid was silent for a while and then he said: \"One month from this\nday thou shalt come, and the very thing that thou hast asked for shall\nbe given to thee.\"  Now for a year before that Mider first came to\nEochaid for the chess-play, had he been at the wooing of Etain, and he\nobtained her not; and the name which he gave to Etain was Befind, or\nFair-haired Woman, so it was that he said:\n\n\nWilt thou come to my home, fair-haired lady?\n\n\nas has before been recited.  And it was at that time that Etain said:\n\"If thou obtainest me from him who is the master of my house, I will\ngo; but if thou art not able to obtain me from him, then I will not\ngo.\"  And thereon Mider came to Eochaid, and allowed him at the first\nto win the victory over him, in order that Eochaid should stand in his\ndebt; and therefore it was that he paid the great stakes to which he\nhad agreed; and therefore also was it that he had demanded of him that\nhe should play that game in ignorance of what was staked.  And when\nMider and his folk were paying those agreed-on stakes, which were paid\nupon that night; to wit, the making of the road, and the clearing of\nthe stones from Meath, the rushes from around Tethba, and of the forest\nthat is over Breg, it was thus that he spoke, as it is written in the\nBook of Drom Snechta:\n\n\nPile on the soil; thrust on the soil:\nRed are the oxen around who toil:\nHeavy the troops that my words obey;\nHeavy they seem, and yet men are they.\nStrongly, as piles, are the tree-trunks placed\nRed are the wattles above them laced:\nTired are your hands, and your glances slant;\nOne woman's winning this toil may grant!\nOxen ye are, but revenge shall see;\nMen who are white shall your servants be:\nRushes from Teffa are cleared away:\nGrief is the price that the man shall pay:\nStones have been cleared from the rough Meath ground;\nWhose shall the gain or the harm be found?\n\n\nNow Mider appointed a day at the end of the month when he was to meet\nEochaid, and Eochaid called the armies of the heroes of Ireland\ntogether, so that they came to Tara; and all the best of the champions\nof Ireland, ring within ring, were about Tara, and they were in the\nmidst of Tara itself, and they guarded it, both without and within; and\nthe king and the queen were in the midst of the palace, and the outer\ncourt thereof was shut and locked, for they knew that the great might\nof men would come upon them.  And upon the appointed night Etain was\ndispensing the banquet to the kings, for it was her duty to pour out\nthe wine, when in the midst of their talk they saw Mider standing\nbefore them in the centre of the palace.  He was always fair, yet\nfairer than he ever was seemed Mider to be upon that night.  And he\nbrought to amazement all the hosts on which he gazed, and all thereon\nwere silent, and the king gave a welcome to him.\n\n\"Thy reception is such as I expected when I came,\" said Mider; \"let\nthat now be given to me that hath been promised.  'Tis a debt that is\ndue when a promise hath been made; and I for my part have given to thee\nall that was promised by me.\"\n\n\"I have not yet considered the matter,\" said Eochaid.\n\n\"Thou hast promised Etain's very self to me,\" said Mider; \"that is what\nhath come from thee.\" Etain blushed for shame when she heard that word.\n\n\"Blush not,\" said Mider to Etain, \"for in nowise hath thy wedding-feast\nbeen disgraced.  I have been seeking thee for a year with the fairest\njewels and treasures that can be found in Ireland, and I have not taken\nthee until the time came when Eochaid might permit it.  'Tis not\nthrough any will of thine that I have won thee.\"  \"I myself told thee,\"\nsaid Etain, \"that until Eochaid should resign me to thee I would grant\nthee nothing.  Take me then for my part, if Eochaid is willing to\nresign me to thee.\"\n\n\"But I will not resign thee!\" said Eochaid; \"nevertheless he shall take\nthee in his arms upon the floor of this house as thou art.\"\n\n\"It shall be done!\" said Mider.\n\nHe took his weapons into his left hand and the woman beneath his right\nshoulder; and he carried her off through the skylight of the house.\nAnd the hosts rose up around the king, for they felt that they had been\ndisgraced, and they saw two swans circling round Tara, and the way that\nthey took was the way to the elf-mound of Femun.  And Eochaid with an\narmy of the men of Ireland went to the elf-mound of Femun, which men\ncall the mound of the Fair-haired-Women.  And he followed the counsel\nof the men of Ireland, and he dug up each of the elf-mounds that he\nmight take his wife from thence.  [And Mider and his host opposed them\nand the war between them was long: again and again the trenches made by\nEochaid were destroyed, for nine years as some say lasted the strife of\nthe men of Ireland to enter into the fairy palace.  And when at last\nthe armies of Eochaid came by digging to the borders of the fairy\nmansion, Mider sent to the side of the palace sixty women all in the\nshape of Etain, and so like to her that none could tell which was the\nqueen.  And Eochaid himself was deceived, and he chose, instead of\nEtain, her daughter Messbuachalla (or as some say Esa.)  But when he\nfound that he had been deceived, he returned again to sack Bri Leith,\nand this time Etain made herself known to Eochaid, by proofs that he\ncould not mistake, and he bore her away in triumph to Tara, and there\nshe abode with the king.]\n\n\n\n\nMAC DATHO'S BOAR\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThe tale of \"Mac Datho's Boar\" seems to deal with events that precede\nthe principal events of the Heroic Period; most of the characters named\nin it appear as the chief actors in other romances; Conor and Ailill\nare as usual the leaders of Ulster and Connaught, but the king of\nLeinster is Mesroda Mac Datho, not his brother Mesgegra, who appears in\nthe \"Siege of Howth\" (see Hull, Cuchullin Saga, p. 87), and the Ulster\nchampion is not Cuchulain, but his elder comrade, Conall Cernach.\n\nThe text followed is that of the Book of Leinster as printed by\nWindisch in Irische Texte, vol. i.; the later Harleian manuscript's\nreadings given by Windisch have been taken in a few cases where the\nLeinster text seems untranslatable.  There is a slightly different\nversion, given by Kuno Meyer in the Anecdota Oxoniensia, taken from\nRawlinson, B. 512, a fifteenth-century manuscript, but the text is\nsubstantially that of the Leinster version, and does not give, as in\nthe case of the tale of Etain, a different view of the story.  The\nverse passages differ in the two versions; two verse passages on pages\n37 and 46 have been inserted from the Rawlinson manuscript, otherwise\nthe rendering follows the Leinster text.\n\nThe style of the tale is more barbaric than that of the other romances,\nbut is relieved by touches of humour; the only supernatural touch\noccurs in one of the variations of the Rawlinson manuscript.  Some of\nthe chief variations en in this manuscript are pointed out in the\nnotes; the respectful men on of Curoi mac Dari, who seems to have been\na Munster hero, overshadowed in the accepted versions by the superior\nglory of Ulster, may be noted; also the remark that Ferloga did not get\nhis cepoc, which seems to have been inserted by a later band of a\ncritic who disapproved of the frivolity of the original author, or was\njealous for the honour of the Ulster ladies.\n\n\n\n\nMAC DATHO'S BOAR\n\n\n\nFROM THE BOOK OF LEINSTER (TWELFTH-CENTURY MS.)\n\n\nWith some Additions from Rawlinson, B. 512, written about 1560\n\n\nA glorious king once hold rule over the men of Leinster; his name was\nMesroda Mac Datho.  Now Mac Datho had among his possessions a hound\nwhich was the guardian of all Leinster; the name of the hound was\nAilbe, and all of the land of Leinster was filled with reports of the\nfame of it, and of that hound hath it been sung:\n\n\nMesroda, son of Datho,\nWas he the boar who reared;\nAnd his the hound called Ailbe;\nNo lie the tale appeared!\nThe splendid hound of wisdom,\nThe hound that far is famed,\nThe hound from whom Moynalvy\nFor evermore is named.\n\n\nBy King Ailill and Queen Maev were sent folk to the son of Datho to\ndemand that hound, and at that very hour came heralds from Conor the\nson of Ness to demand him; and to all of these a welcome was bid by the\npeople of Mac Datho, and they were brought to speak with Mac Datho in\nhis palace.\n\nAt the time that we speak of, this palace was a hostelry that was the\nsixth of the hostelries of Ireland.; there were beside it the hostelry\nof Da Derga in the land of Cualan in Leinster; also the hostelry of\nForgall the Wily, which is beside Lusk; and the hostelry of Da Reo in\nBreffny; and the hostelry of Da Choca in the west of Meath; and the\nhostelry of the landholder Blai in the country of the men of Ulster.\nThere were seven doors to that palace, and seven passages ran through\nit; also there stood within it seven cauldrons, and in every one of the\ncauldrons was seething the flesh of oxen and the salted flesh of swine.\n Every traveller who came into the house after a journey would thrust a\nfork into a cauldron, and whatsoever he brought out at the first\nthrust, that had he to eat: if he got nothing at the first thrust, no\nsecond attempt was allowed him.\n\nThey brought the heralds before Mac Datho as he sat upon his throne,\nthat he might learn of their requests before they made their meal, and\nin this manner they made known their message.  \"We have come,\" said the\nmen who were sent from Connaught, \"that we might ask for thy hound;\n'tis by Ailill and Maev we are sent.  Thou shalt have in payment for\nhim six thousand milch cows, also a two-horsed chariot with its horses,\nthe best to be had in Connaught, and at the end of a year as much again\nshall be thine.\"  \"We also,\" said the heralds from Ulster, \"have come\nto ask for thy hound; we have been sent by Conor, and Conor is a friend\nwho is of no less value than these.  He also will give to thee\ntreasures and cattle, and the same amount at the end of a year, and he\nwill be a stout friend to thee.\"\n\nNow after he had received this message Mac Datho sank into a deep\nsilence, he ate nothing, neither did he sleep, but tossed about from\none side to another, and then said his wife to him:\n\"For a long time hast thou fasted; food is before thee, yet thou eatest\nnot; what is it that ails thee? and Mac Datho made her no answer,\nwhereupon she said:\n\n\nThe Wife[FN#10]\n\nGone is King Mac Datho's sleep,\nRestless cares his home invade;\nThough his thoughts from all he keep,\nProblems deep his mind hath weighed.\n\nHe, my sight avoiding, turns\nTowards the wall, that hero grim;\nWell his prudent wife discerns\nSleep hath passed away from him.\n\n\n[FN#10]  The Irish metre is followed in the first four verses.\n\n\nMac Datho\n\nCrimthann saith, Nar's sister's son,\n\"Secrets none to women tell.\nWoman's secret soon is won;\nNever thrall kept jewel well.\"\n\n\nThe Wife\n\nWhy against a woman speak\nTill ye test, and find she fails?\nWhen thy mind to plan is weak,\nOft another's wit avails.\n\n\nMac Datho\n\nAt ill season indeed came those heralds\nWho his hound from Mac Datho would take;\nIn more wars than by thought can be counted\nFair-haired champions shall fall for its sake.\n\nIf to Conor I dare to deny him,\nHe shall deem it the deed of a churl\nNor shall cattle or country be left me\nBy the hosts he against me can hurl.\n\nIf refusal to Ailill I venture,\nWith all Ireland my folk shall he sack;\nFrom our kingdom Mac Mata shall drive us,\nAnd our ashes may tell of his track.\n\n\nThe Wife\n\nHere a counsel I find to deliver,\nAnd in woe shall our land have no share;\nOf that hound to them both be thou giver,\nAnd who dies for it little we care.\n\n\nMac Datho\n\nAh! the grief that I had is all ended,\nI have joy for this speech from thy tongue\nSurely Ailbe from heaven descended,\nThere is none who can say whence he sprung.\n\nAfter these words the son of Datho rose up, and he shook himself, and\nMay this fall out well for us,\" said he, \"and well for our guests who\ncome here to seek for him.\"  His guests abode three days and three\nnights in his house, and when that time was ended, he bade that the\nheralds from Connaught be called to confer with him apart, and he spoke\nthus: \"I have been,\" he said, \"in great vexation of spirit, and for\nlong have I hesitated before I made a decision what to do.  But now\nhave I decided to give the hound to Ailill and Maev, let them come with\nsplendour to bear it away.  They shall have plenty both to eat and to\ndrink, and they shall have the hound to hold, and welcome shall they\nbe.\"  And the messengers from Connaught were well pleased with this\nanswer that they had.\n\nThen he went to where the heralds from Ulster were, and thus he\naddressed them: \"After long hesitation,\" said he, \"I have awarded the\nhound to Conor, and a proud man should he be.  Let the armies of the\nnobles of Ulster come to bear him away; they shall have presents, and I\nwill make them welcome;\" and with this the messengers from Ulster were\ncontent.\n\nNow Mac Datho had so planned it that both those armies, that from the\nEast and that from the West, should arrive at his palace upon the\nselfsame day.  Nor did they fail to keep their tryst; upon the same day\nthose two provinces of Ireland came to Mac Datho's palace, and Mac\nDatho himself went outside and greeted them: \"For two armies at the\nsame time we were not prepared; yet I bid welcome to you, ye men.\nEnter into the court of the house.\"\n\nThen they went all of them into the palace; one half of the house\nreceived the Ulstermen, and the other half received the men of\nConnaught.  For the house was no small one: it had seven doors and\nfifty couches between each two doors; and it was no meeting of friends\nthat was then seen in that house, but the hosts that filled it were\nenemies to each other, for during the whole time of the three hundred\nyears that preceded the birth of Christ there was war between Ulster\nand Connaught.\n\nThen they slaughtered for them Mac Datho's Boar; for seven years had\nthat boar been nurtured upon the milk of fifty cows, but surely venom\nmust have entered into its nourishment, so many of the men of Ireland\ndid it cause to die.  They brought in the boar, and forty oxen as\nside-dishes to it, besides other kind of food; the son of Datho himself\nwas steward to their feast: \"Be ye welcome!\" said he; \"this beast\nbefore you hath not its match; and a goodly store of beeves and of\nswine may be found with the men of Leinster!  And, if there be aught\nlacking to you, more shall be slain for you in the morning.\"\n\n\"It is a mighty Boar,\" said Conor.\n\n\"'Tis a mighty one indeed,\" said Ailill. \"How shall it be divided, O\nConor?\" said he.\n\n\"How?\" cried down Bricriu,[FN#11] the son of Carbad, from above; \"in\nthe place where the warriors of Ireland are gathered together, there\ncan be but the one test for the division of it, even the part that each\nman hath taken in warlike deeds and strife: surely each man of you hath\nstruck the other a buffet on the nose ere now!\"\n\n\"Thus then shall it be,\" said Ailill.\n\n\"'Tis a fair test,\" said Conor in assent; \"we have here a plenty of\nlads in this house who have done battle on the borders.\"\n\n\"Thou shalt lose thy lads to-night, Conor,\" said Senlaech the\ncharioteer, who came from rushy Conalad in the West; \"often have they\nleft a fat steer for me to harry, as they sprawled on their backs upon\nthe road that leadeth to the rushes of Dedah.\"\n\n\"Fatter was the steer that thou hadst to leave to us,\" said\nMunremur,[FN#12] the son of Gerrcind; \"even thine own brother,\nCruachniu, son of Ruadlam; and it was from Conalad of Cruachan that he\ncame.\"\n\n\"He was no better,\" cried Lugaid the son of Curoi of Munster, \"than\nLoth the Great, the son of Fergus Mac Lete; and Echbel the son of Dedad\nleft him lying in Tara Luachra.\"[FN#13]\n\n\n[FN#11]  Pronounced Brik-roo.\n\n[FN#12]  Pronounced Moon-raymer.\n\n[FN#13]  Pronounced Looch-ra.\n\n\n\"What sort of a man was he whom ye boast of?\" cried Celtchar of Ulster.\n \"I myself slew that horny-skinned son of Dedad, I cut the head from\nhis shoulders.\"\n\nAt the last it fell out that one man raised himself above all the men\nof Ireland; he was Ket, the son of Mata, he came from the land of\nConnaught.  He hung up his weapons at a greater height than the weapons\nof any one else who was there, he took a knife in his hand, and he\nplaced himself at the side of the Boar.\n\n\"Find ye now,\" said he, \"one man among the men of Ireland who can equal\nmy renown, or else leave the division of the Boar to me.\"\n\nAll of the Ulstermen were thrown into amazement.  \"Seest thou that, O\nLaegaire?\"[FN#14] said Conor.\n\n\n[FN#14]  Pronounced Leary.\n\n\n\"Never shall it be,\" said Laegaire the Triumphant, \"that Ket should\nhave the division of this Boar in the face of us all.\"\n\n\"Softly now, O Laegaire!\" said Ket; \"let me hold speech with thee.\nWith you men of Ulster it hath for long been a custom that each lad\namong you who takes the arms of a warrior should play first with us the\ngame of war: thou, O Laegaire, like to the others didst come to the\nborder, and we rode against one another.  And thou didst leave thy\ncharioteer, and thy chariot and thy horses behind thee, and thou didst\nfly pierced through with a spear.  Not with such a record as that shalt\nthou obtain the Boar;\" and Laegaire sat himself down.\n\n\"It shall never come to pass,\" said a great fair-haired warrior,\nstepping forward from the bench whereon he had sat, \"that the division\nof the Boar shall be left to Ket before our very eyes.\"\n\n\"To whom then appertains it?\" asked Ket.\n\n\"To one who is a better warrior than thou,\" he said, \"even to Angus,\nthe son of Lama Gabaid (Hand-in-danger) of the men of Ulster.\"\n\n\"Why namest thou thy father 'Hand-in-danger?\" said Ket.\n\n\"Why indeed, I know not,\" he said.\n\n\"Ah! but I know it!\" said Ket.  \"Long ago I went upon a journey in the\neast, a war-cry was raised against me, all men attacked me, and Lama\nGabaid was among them.  He made a cast of a great spear against me, I\nhurled the same spear back upon him, and the spear cut his hand from\nhim so that it lay upon the ground.  How dares the son of that man to\nmeasure his renown with mine?\" and Angus went back to his place.\n\n\"Come, and claim a renown to match mine,\" said Ket; \"else let me divide\nthis Boar.\"\n\n\"It shall never be thy part to be the first to divide it,\" said a great\nfair-haired warrior of the men of Ulster.\n\n\"Who then is this?\" said Ket.\n\n\"'Tis Eogan, son of Durthacht,\"[FN#15] said they all; \"Eogan, the lord\nof Fernmay.\"\n\n\"I have seen him upon an earlier day,\" said Ket.\n\n\"Where hast thou seen me?\" said Eogan.\n\n\"It was before thine own house,\" said Ket.  \"As I was driving away thy\ncattle, a cry of war was raised in the lands about me; and thou didst\ncome out at that cry.  Thou didst hurl thy spear against me, and it was\nfixed in my shield; but I hurled the same spear back against thee, and\nit tore out one of thy two eyes.  All the men of Ireland can see that\nthou art one-eyed; here is the man that struck thine other eye out of\nthy head,\" and he also sat down.\n\n\"Make ye ready again for the strife for renown, O ye men of Ulster!\"\ncried Ket.  \"Thou hast not yet gained the right to divide the Boar,\"\nsaid Munremur, Gerrcind's son.\n\n\"Is that Munremur?\" cried Ket; \"I have but one short word for thee, O\nMunremur!  Not yet hath the third day passed since I smote the heads\noff three warriors who came from your lands, and the midmost of the\nthree was the head of thy firstborn son!\" and Munremur also sat down.\n\n\"Come to the strife for renown!\" cried Ket.\n\n\"That strife will I give to thee,\" said Mend the son of Salcholcam (the\nSword-heeled).\n\n\"Who is this?\" asked Ket.\n\n\"'Tis Mend,\" said all who were there.\n\n\"Hey there!\" cried Ket. \"The son of the man with the nickname comes to\nmeasure his renown with mine!  Why, Mend, it was by me that the\nnickname of thy father came; 'twas I who cut the heel from him with my\nsword so that he hopped away from me upon one leg! How shall the son of\nthat one-legged man measure his renown with mine?\" and he also sat down.\n\n\n[FN#15]  Pronounced Yeogan, son of Doorha.\n\n\n\"Come to the strife for renown!\" cried Ket.\n\n\"That warfare shalt thou have from me!\" said an Ulster warrior, tall,\ngrey, and more terrible than the rest.\n\n\"Who is this?\" asked Ket.\n\n\"'Tis Celtchar, the son of Uitechar,\" cried all.\n\n\"Pause thou a little, Celtchar,\" said Ket, \"unless it be in thy mind to\ncrush me in an instant.  Once did I come to thy dwelling, O Celtchar, a\ncry was raised about me, and all men hurried up at that cry, and thou\nalso camest beside them.  It was in a ravine that the combat between us\nwas held; thou didst hurl thy spear against me, and against thee I also\nhurled my spear; and my spear pierced thee through the leg and through\nthe groin, so that from that hour thou hast been diseased, nor hath son\nor daughter been born to thee.  How canst thou strive in renown with\nme?\" and he also sat down.\n\n\"Come to the strife for renown!\" cried Ket.\n\n\"That strife shalt thou have,\" said Cuscrid the Stammerer, of Macha,\nking Conor's son.\n\n\"Who is this?\" said Ket. \"'Tis Cuscrid,\" said all; \"he hath a form\nwhich is as the form of a king.\"\n\n\"Nor hath he aught to thank thee for,\" said the youth.\n\n\"Good!\" said Ket.  \"It was against me that thou didst come on the day\nwhen thou didst first make trial of thy weapons, my lad: 'twas in the\nborderland that we met.  And there thou didst leave the third part of\nthy folk behind thee, and thou didst fly with a spear-thrust through\nthy throat so that thou canst speak no word plainly, for the spear cut\nin sunder the sinews of thy neck; and from that hour thou hast been\ncalled Cuscrid the Stammerer.\"  And in this fashion did Ket put to\nshame all the warriors of the province of Ulster.\n\nBut as he was exulting near to the Boar, with his knife in his hand,\nall saw Conall, the Victorious enter the palace; and Conall sprang into\nthe midst of the house, and the men of Ulster hailed him with a shout;\nand Conor himself took his helmet from his head, and swung it on high\nto greet him.\n\n\"'Tis well that I wait for the portion that befalls me!\" said Conall.\nWho is he who is the divider of the Boar for ye?\"\n\n\"That office must be given to the man who stands there,\" said Conor,\n\"even to Ket, the son of Mata.\"\n\n\"Is this true, O Ket?\" said Conall.  \"Art thou the man to allot this\nBoar?\"  And then sang Ket:\n\n\nConall, all hail!\nHard stony spleen\nWild glowing flame!\nIce-glitter keen!\nBlood in thy breast\nRageth and boils;\nOft didst thou wrest\nVictory's spoils:\nThou scarred son of Finuchoem,[FN#16] thou truly canst claim\nTo stand rival to me, and to match me in fame!\n\n\nAnd Conall replied to him:\n\nHail to thee, Ket!\nWell are we met!\nHeart icy-cold,\nHome for the bold!\nEnder of grief!\nCar-riding chief!\nSea's stormy wave!\nBull, fair and brave!\nKet! first of the children of Matach!\nThe proof shall be found when to combat we dart,\nThe proof shall be found when from combat we part;\nHe shall tell of that battle who guardeth the stirks,\nHe shall tell of that battle at handcraft who works;\nAnd the heroes shall stride to the wild lion-fight,\nFor by men shall fall men in this palace to-night:\nWelcome, Ket![FN#17]\n\n\n[FN#16]  Pronounced Finn-hoom.\n\n[FN#17]  The short lines of this rhetoric have the metre of the\noriginal Irish.\n\n\n\"Rise thou, and depart from this Boar,\" said Conall.\n\n\"What claim wilt thou bring why I should do this?\" said Ket.\n\n\"'Tis true indeed,\" said Conall, \"thou art contending in renown with\nme.  I will give thee one claim only, O Ket!  I swear by the oath of my\ntribe that since the day that I first received a spear into my hand I\nhave seldom slept without the head of a slain man of Connaught as my\npillow; and I have not let pass a day or a night in which a man of\nConnaught hath not fallen by my hand.\"\n\n\"'Tis true indeed,\" said Ket, \"thou art a better warrior than I.  Were\nbut Anluan here, he could battle with thee in another fashion; shame\nupon us that he is not in this house!\"\n\n\"Aye, but Anluan is here! \"cried Conall, and therewith he plucked\nAnluan's head from his belt.  And he threw the head towards Ket, so\nthat it smote him upon the chest, and a gulp of the blood was dashed\nover his lips.  And Ket came away from the Boar, and Conall placed\nhimself beside it.\n\n\"Now let men come to contend for renown with me!\" cried Conall.  But\namong the men of Connaught there was none who would challenge him, and\nthey raised a wall of shields, like a great vat around him, for in that\nhouse was evil wrangling, and men in their malice would make cowardly\ncasts at him.  And Conall turned to divide the Boar, and he took the\nend of the tail in his mouth.  And although the tail was so great that\nit was a full load for nine men, yet he sucked it all into his mouth so\nthat nothing of it was left; and of this hath been said:\n\n\nStrong hands on a cart thrust him forward;\nHis great tail, though for nine men a load,\nWas devoured by the brave Conall Cernach,\nAs the joints he so gaily bestowed.\n\n\nNow to the men of Connaught Conall gave nothing except the two\nfore-legs of the Boar, and this share seemed to be but small to the men\nof Connaught, and thereon they sprang up, and the men of Ulster also\nsprang up, and they rushed at each other.  They buffeted each other so\nthat the heap of bodies inside the house rose as high as the side-walls\nof it; and streams of blood flowed under the doors.\n\nThe hosts brake out through the doors into the outer court, and great\nwas the din that uprose; the blood upon the floor of the house might\nhave driven a mill, so mightily did each man strike out at his fellow.\nAnd at that time Fergus plucked up by the roots a great oak-tree that\nstood in the outer court in the midst of it; and they all burst out of\nthe court, and the battle went on outside.\n\nThen came out Mac Datho, leading the hound by a leash in his hand, that\nhe might let him loose between the two armies, to see to which side the\nsense of the hound would turn.  And the hound joined himself with the\nmen of Ulster, and he rushed on the defeated Connaughtmen, for these\nwere in flight.  And it is told that in the plain of Ailbe, the hound\nseized hold of the poles of the chariot in which Ailill and Maev rode:\nand there Fer-loga, charioteer to Ailill and Maev, fell upon him, so\nthat he cast his body to one side, and his head was left upon the poles\nof the chariot.  And they say that it is for that reason that the plain\nof Ailbe is so named, for from the hound Ailbe the name hath come.\n\nThe rout went on northwards, over Ballaghmoon, past Rurin Hill, over\nthe Midbine Ford near to Mullaghmast, over Drum Criach Ridge which is\nopposite to what is Kildare to-day, over Rath Ingan which is in the\nforest of Gabla, then by Mac Lugna's Ford over the ridge of the two\nplains till they came to the Bridge of Carpre that is over the Boyne.\nAnd at the ford which is known as the Ford of the Hound's Head, which\nstandeth in the west of Meath, the hound's head fell from the chariot.\n\nAnd, as they went over the heather of Meath, Ferloga the charioteer of\nAilill fell into the heather, and he sprang behind Conor who followed\nafter them in his chariot, and he seized Conor by the head.\n\n\"I claim a boon from thee if I give thee thy life, O Conor!\" said he.\n\n\"I choose freely to grant that boon,\" said Conor.\n\n\"'Tis no great matter,\" said Ferloga.  \"Take me with thee to Emain\nMacha, and at each ninth hour let the widows and the growing maidens of\nUlster serenade me[FN#18] with the song: 'Ferloga is my darling.'\"\n\n\n[FN#18]  Literally, \"sing me a cepoc,\" or a choral song.\n\n\nAnd the women were forced to do it; for they dared not to deny him,\nfearing the wrath of Conor; and at the end of a year Ferloga crossed\nbyAthlone into Connaught, and he took with him two of Conor's horses\nbridled with golden reins.\n\nAnd concerning all this hath it been sung:\n\nHear truth, ye lads of Connaught;\nNo lies your griefs shall fill,\nA youth the Boar divided;\nThe share you had was ill.\n\nOf men thrice fifty fifties\nWould win the Ailbe Hound;\nIn pride of war they struggled,\nSmall cause for strife they found.\nYet there came conquering Conor,\nAnd Ailill's hosts, and Ket;\nNo law Cuchulain granted,\nAnd brooding Bodb[FN#19] was met.\n\nDark Durthacht's son, great Eogan,\nShall find that journey hard;\nFrom east came Congal Aidni,\nAnd Fiaman,[FN#20] sailor bard;\nThree sons of Nera, famous\nFor countless warlike fields;\nThree lofty sons of Usnach,\nWith hard-set cruel shields.\n\nFrom high Conalad Croghan\nWise Senlaech[FN#21] drave his car;\nAnd Dubhtach[FN#22] came from Emain,\nHis fame is known afar;\nAnd Illan came, whom glorious\nFor many a field they hail:\nLoch Sail's grim chief, Munremur;\nBerb Baither, smooth of tale;\n\n\n[FN#19]  Pronounced Bobe, with sound of 'robe.'\n\n[FN#20]  Pronounced Feeman.\n\n[FN#21]  Pronounced Senlay, with the light final ch.\n\n[FN#22]  Pronounced Doov-ta.\n\n\nAnd Celtchar, lord in Ulster;\nAnd Conall's valour wild;\nAnd Marcan came; and Lugaid\nOf three great hounds the child.\n\nFergus, awaiting the glorious hound,\nSpreadeth a cloak o'er his mighty shield,\nShaketh an oak he hath plucked from ground,\nRed was the woe the red cloak concealed.\n\nYonder stood Cethern,[FN#23] of Finntan son,\nHolding them back; till six hours had flown\nConnaughtmen's slaughter his hand hath done,\nPass of the ford he hath held alone.\n\nArmies with Feidlim[FN#24] the war sustain,\nLaegaire the Triumpher rides on east,\nAed, son of Morna, ye hear complain,\nLittle his thought is to mourn that beast.\n\nHigh are the nobles, their deeds show might,\nHousefellows fair, and yet hard in fight;\nChampions of strength upon clans bring doom,\nGreat are the captives, and vast the tomb.\n\n\n[FN#23]  Pronounced Kay-hern.\n\n[FN#24]  Pronounced Fay-lim.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SICK-BED OF CUCHULAIN\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThe romance called the \"Sick-bed of Cuchulain,\" the latter part of\nwhich is also known as the \"Jealousy of Emer,\" is preserved in two\nmanuscripts, one of which is the eleventh-century Leabhar na h-Uidhri,\nthe other a fifteenth century manuscript in the Trinity College\nLibrary.  These two manuscripts give substantially the same account,\nand are obviously taken from the same source, but the later of the two\nis not a copy of the older manuscript, and sometimes preserves a better\nreading.\n The eleventh-century manuscript definitely gives a yet older book, the\nYellow Book of Slane, now lost, as its authority, and this may be the\nultimate authority for the tale as we have it.  But, although there is\nonly one original version of the text, it is quite plain from internal\nevidence that the compiler of the Yellow Book of Slane, or of an\nearlier book, had two quite different forms of the story to draw from,\nand combined them in the version that we have.  The first, which may be\ncalled the \"Antiquarian\" form, relates the cause of Cuchulain's\nillness, tells in detail of the journey of his servant Laeg to\nFairyland, in order to test the truth of a message sent to Cuchulain\nthat he can be healed by fairy help, and then breaks off.  In both the\nLeabhar na h-Uidhri and in the fifteenth-century manuscript, follows a\nlong passage which has absolutely nothing to do with the story,\nconsisting of an account how Lugaid Red-Stripes was elected to be king\nover Ireland, and of the Bull Feast at which the coming of Lugaid is\nprophesied.  Both manuscripts then give the counsel given by Cuchulain\nto Lugaid on his election (this passage being the only justification\nfor the insertion, as Cuchulain is supposed to be on his sick-bed when\nthe exhortation is given); and both then continue the story in a quite\ndifferent form, which may be called the \"Literary\" form.  The cause of\nthe sickness is not given in the Literary form, which commences with\nthe rousing of Cuchulain from his sick-bed, this rousing being due to\ndifferent agency from that related in the Antiquarian form, for in the\nlatter Cuchulain is roused by a son of the fairy king, in the former b\nhis wife Emer.  The journey of Laeg to Fairyland is then told in the\nliterary form with different detail to that given in the Antiquarian\none, and the full conclusion is then supplied in this form alone; so\nthat we have, although in the same manuscript version, two quite\ndistinct forms of the original legend, the first defective at the end\nof the story, the other at its beginning.\n\nNot only are the incidents of the two forms of the story different in\nmany respects, but the styles are so absolutely different that it would\nseem impossible to attribute them to the same author.  The first is a\nmere compilation by an antiquarian; it is difficult to imagine that it\nwas ever recited in a royal court, although the author may have had\naccess to a better version than his own.  He inserts passages which do\nnot develop the interest of the story; hints at incidents (the\ntemporary absence of Fergus and Conall) which are not developed or\nalluded to afterwards, and is a notable early example of the way in\nwhich Irish literature can be spoiled by combining several different\nindependent stories into one.  There is only one gem, strictly so\ncalled, and that not of a high order; the only poetic touches occur in\nthe rhetoric, and, although in this there is a weird supernatural\nflavour, that may have marked the original used by the compiler of this\nform ' the human interest seems to be exceptionally weak.\n\nThe second or Literary form is as different from the other as it is\npossible for two compositions on the same theme to be.  The first few\nwords strike the human note in Cuchulain's message to his wife: \"Tell\nher that it goeth better with me from hour to hour;\" the poems are\nmany, long, and of high quality; the rhetoric shows a strophic\ncorrespondence; the Greek principle of letting the messenger tell the\nstory instead of relating the facts, in a narrative of events (the\nmethod followed in the Antiquarian version) is made full use of; the\nmodest account given by Cuchulain of his own deeds contrasts well with\nthe prose account of the same deeds; and the final relation of the\nvoluntary action of the fairy lady who gives up her lover to her rival,\nand her motives, is a piece of literary work centuries in advance of\nany other literature of modern Europe.\n\nSome modern accounts of this romance have combined the two forms, and\nhave omitted the irrelevant incidents in the Antiquarian version; there\nare literary advantages in this course, for the disconnected character\nof the Antiquarian opening, which must stand first, as it alone gives\nthe beginning of the story, affords little indication of the high\nquality of the better work of the Literary form that follows; but, in\norder to heighten the contrast, the two forms are given just as they\noccur in the manuscripts, the only omissions being the account of the\nelection of Lugaid, and the exhortation of Cuchulain to the new king.\n\nThurneysen, in his Sagen aus dem Alten Irland, places the second\ndescription of Fairyland by Laeg with the Antiquarian form, and this\nmay be justified not only by the allusion to Ethne, who does not appear\nelsewhere in the Literary form, but from the fact that there is a touch\nof rough humour in this poem, which appears in the Antiquarian form,\nbut not elsewhere in the Literary one, where the manuscripts place this\npoem.  But on the other hand the poetry of this second description, and\nits vividness, come much closer to the Literary form, and it has been\nleft in the place that the manuscript gives to it.\n\nThe whole has been translated direct from the Irish in Irische Texte,\nvol. i., with occasional reference to the facsimile of the Leabhar na\nh-Uidhri; the words marked as doubtful by Windisch in his glossary,\nwhich are rather numerous, being indicated by marks of interrogation in\nthe notes, and, where Windisch goes not indicate a probable meaning, a\nspecial note is made on the word, unless it has been given in\ndictionaries subsequent to that of Windisch.  Thurneysen's translation\nhas sometimes been made use of, when there is no other guide; but he\nomits some passages, and Windisch has been followed in the rendering\ngiven in his glossary in cases where there would seem to be a\ndifference, as Thurneysen often translates freely.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SICK-BED OF CUCHULAIN\n\n\n\nTranscribed from the Lost Yellow Book of Slane\n\n\nBy Maelmuiri mac Ceileachair into the Leabhar na h-Uidhri in the\nEleventh Century\n\n\nEvery year the men of Ulster were accustomed to hold festival together;\nand the time when they held it was for three days before Samhain, the\nSummer-End, and for three days after that day, and upon Samhain itself.\n And the time that is spoken of is that when the men of Ulster were in\nthe Plain of Murthemne, and there they used to keep that festival every\nyear; nor was there an thing in the world that they would do at that\ntime except sports, and marketings, and splendours, and pomps, and\nfeasting and eating; and it is from that custom of theirs that the\nFestival of the Samhain has descended, that is now held throughout the\nwhole of Ireland.\n\nNow once upon a time the men of Ulster held festival upon the Murthemne\nPlain, and the reason that this festival was held was that every man of\nthem should then give account of the combats he had made and of his\nvalour every Summer-End.  It was their custom to hold that festival in\norder to give account of these combats, and the manner in which they\ngave that account was this: Each man used to cut off the tip of the\ntongue of a foe whom he had killed, and he bore it with him in a pouch.\n Moreover, in order to make more great the numbers of their contests,\nsome used to bring with them the tips of the tongues of beasts, and\neach man publicly declared the fights he had fought, one man of them\nafter the other.  And they did this also--they laid their swords over\ntheir thighs when they declared the strifes, and their own swords used\nto turn against them when the strife that they declared was false; nor\nwas this to be wondered at, for at that time it was customary for demon\nbeings to scream from the weapons of men, so that for this cause their\nweapons might be the more able to guard them.\n\nTo that festival then came all the men of Ulster except two alone, and\nthese two were Fergus the son of Rog, and Conall the Victorious.  \"Let\nthe festival be held!\" cried the men of Ulster.  \"Nay,\" said Cuchulain,\n\"it shall not be held until Conall and Fergus come,\" and this he said\nbecause Fergus was the foster-father of Cuchulain, and Conall was his\ncomrade.  Then said Sencha: \"Let us for the present engage in games of\nchess; and let the Druids sing, and let the jugglers play their feats;\"\nand it was done as he had said.\n\nNow while they were thus employed a flock of birds came down and\nhovered over the lake; never was seen in Ireland more beautiful birds\nthan these.  And a longing that these birds should be given to them\nseized upon the women who were there; and each of them began to boast\nof the prowess of her husband at bird-catching.  \"How I wish,\" said\nEthne Aitencaithrech, Conor's wife, \"that I could have two of those\nbirds, one of them upon each of my two shoulders.\"  \"It is what we all\nlong for,\" said the women; and \"If any should have this boon, I should\nbe the first one to have it,\" said Ethne Inguba, the wife of Cuchulain.\n\n\"What are we to do now?\" said the women.  \"'Tis easy to answer you,\"\nsaid Leborcham, the daughter of Oa and Adarc; \"I will go now with a\nmessage from you, and will seek for Cuchulain.\"  She then went to\nCuchulain, and \"The women of Ulster would be well pleased,\" she said,\n\"if yonder birds were given to them by thy hand.\"  And Cuchulain made\nfor his sword to unsheathe it against her: \"Cannot the lasses of Ulster\nfind any other but us,\" he said, \"to give them their bird-hunt to-day?\"\n \"'Tis not seemly for thee to rage thus against them,\" said Leborcham,\n\"for it is on thy account that the women of Ulster have assumed one of\ntheir three blemishes, even the blemish of blindness.\"  For there were\nthree blemishes that the women of Ulster assumed, that of crookedness\nof gait, and that of a stammering in their speech, and that of\nblindness.  Each of the women who loved Conall the Victorious had\nassumed a crookedness of gait; each woman who loved Cuscraid Mend, the\nStammerer of Macha, Conor's son, stammered in her speech; each woman in\nlike manner who loved Cuchulain had assumed a blindness of her eyes, in\norder to resemble Cuchulain; for he, when his mind was angry within\nhim, was accustomed to draw in the one of his eyes so far that a crane\ncould not reach it in his head, and would thrust out the other so that\nit was great as a cauldron in which a calf is cooked.\n\n\"Yoke for us the chariot, O Laeg!\" said Cuchulain.  And Laeg yoked the\nchariot at that, and Cuchulain went into the chariot, and he cast his\nsword at the birds with a cast like the cast of a boomerang, so that\nthey with their claws and wings flapped against the water.  And they\nseized upon all the birds, and they gave them and distributed them\namong the women; nor was there any one of the women, except Ethne\nalone, who had not a pair of those birds.  Then Cuchulain returned to\nhis wife; and \"Thou art enraged,\" said he to her.  \"I am in no way\nenraged,\" answered Ethne, \"for I deem it as being by me that the\ndistribution was made.  And thou hast done what was fitting,\" she said,\n\"for there is not one of these woman but loves thee; none in whom thou\nhast no share; but for myself none hath any share in me except thou\nalone.\"  \"Be not angry,\" said Cuchulain, \"if in the future any birds\ncome to the Plain of Murthemne or to the Boyne, the two birds that are\nthe most beautiful among those that come shall be thine.\"\n\nA little while after this they saw two birds flying over the lake,\nlinked together by a chain of red gold.  They sang a gentle song, and a\nsleep fell upon all the men who were there; and Cuchulain rose up to\npursue the birds.  \"If thou wilt hearken to me,\" said Laeg, and so also\nsaid Ethne, \"thou shalt not go against them; behind those birds is some\nespecial power.  Other birds may be taken by thee at some future day.\"\n\"Is it possible that such claim as this should be made upon me?\" said\nCuchulain.  \"Place a stone in my sling, O Laeg!\"  Laeg thereon took a\nstone, and he placed it in the sling, and Cuchulain launched the stone\nat the birds, but the cast missed.  \"Alas!\" said he.  He took another\nstone, and he launched this also at the birds, but the stone flew past\nthem.  \"Wretched that I am,\" he cried, \"since the very first day that I\nassumed arms, I have never missed a cast until this day!\"  And he cast\nhis spear at them, and the spear went through the shield of the wing of\none of the birds, and the birds flew away, and went beneath the lake.\n\nAfter this Cuchulain departed, and he rested his back against a stone\npillar, and his soul was angry within him, and a sleep fell upon him.\nThen saw he two women come to him; the one of them had a green mantle\nupon her, and upon the other was a purple mantle folded in five folds.\nAnd the woman in the green mantle approached him, and she laughed a\nlaugh at him, and she gave him a stroke with a horsewhip.  And then the\nother approached him, and she also laughed at him, and she struck him\nin the like manner; and for a long time were they thus, each of them in\nturn coming to him and striking him until he was all but dead; and then\nthey departed from him.\n\nNow the men of Ulster perceived the state in which Cuchulain was in;\nand they cried out that he should be awakened; but \"Nay,\" said Fergus,\n\"ye shall not move him, for he seeth a vision;\" and a little after that\nCuchulain came from his sleep.  \"What hath happened to thee?\" said the\nmen of Ulster; but he had no power to bid greeting to them.  \"Let me be\ncarried,\" he said, \"to the sick-bed that is in Tete Brecc; neither to\nDun Imrith, nor yet to Dun Delga.\"  \"Wilt thou not be carried to Dun\nDelga to seek for Emer?\" said Laeg.  \"Nay,\" said he, \"my word is for\nTete Brecc;\" and thereon they bore him from that place, and he was in\nTete Brecc until the end of one year, and during all that time he had\nspeech with no one.\n\nNow upon a certain day before the next Summer-End, at the end of a\nyear, when the men of Ulster were in the house where Cuchulain was,\nFergus being at the side-wall, and Conall Cernach at his head, and\nLugaid Red-Stripes at his pillow, and Ethne Inguba at his feet; when\nthey were there in this manner, a man came to them, and he seated\nhimself near the entrance of the chamber in which Cuchulain lay.  \"What\nhath brought thee here?\" said Conall the Victorious.  \"No hard question\nto answer,\" said the man.  \"If the man who lies yonder were in health,\nhe would be a good protection to all of Ulster; in the weakness and the\nsickness in which he now is, so much the more great is the protection\nthat they have from him.  I have no fear of any of you,\" he said, \"for\nit is to give to this man a greeting that I come.\"  \"Welcome to thee,\nthen, and fear nothing,\" said the men of Ulster; and the man rose to\nhis feet, and he sang them these staves:\n\n\nAh! Cuchulain, who art under sickness still,\nNot long thou its cure shouldst need;\nSoon would Aed Abra's daughters, to heal thine ill,\nTo thee, at thy bidding, speed.\n\nLiban, she at swift Labra's right hand who sits,\nStood up on Cruach's[FN#25] Plain, and cried:\n\"'Tis the wish of Fand's heart, she the tale permits,\nTo sleep at Cuchulain's side.\n\n\n[FN#25]  Pronounced something like Croogh.\n\n\n\"'If Cuchulain would come to me,' Fand thus told,\n'How goodly that day would shine!\nThen on high would our silver be heaped, and gold,\nOur revellers pour the wine.\n\n\"'And if now in my land, as my friend, had been\nCuchulain, of Sualtam[FN#26] son,\nThe things that in visions he late hath seen\nIn peace would he safe have won.\n\n\"'In the Plains of Murthemne, to south that spread,\nShall Liban my word fulfil:\nShe shall seek him on Samhain, he naught need dread,\nBy her shall be cured his ill.'\"\n\n\n[FN#26]  Pronounced Sooltam.\n\n\n\"Who art thou, then, thyself?\" said the men of Ulster.  \"I am Angus,\nthe son of Aed Abra,\" he answered; and the man then left them, nor did\nany of them know whence it was he had come, nor whither he went.\nThen Cuchulain sat up, and he spoke to them.  \"Fortunate indeed is\nthis!\" said the men of Ulster; \"tell us what it is that hath happened\nto thee.\"  \"Upon Samhain night last year,\" he said, \"I indeed saw a\nvision;\" and he told them of all he had seen.  \"What should now be\ndone, Father Conor?\" said Cuchulain.  \"This hast thou to do,\" answered\nConor, \"rise, and go until thou comest to the pillar where thou wert\nbefore.\"\n\nThen Cuchulain went forth until he came to the pillar, and then saw he\nthe woman in the green mantle come to him.  \"This is good, O\nCuchulain!\" said she.  \"'Tis no good thing in my thought,\" said\nCuchulain.  \"Wherefore camest thou to me last year?\" he said.  \"It was\nindeed to do no injury to thee that we came,\" said the woman, \"but to\nseek for thy friendship. I have come to greet thee,\" she said, \"from\nFand, the daughter of Aed Abra; her husband, Manannan the Son of the\nSea, hath released her, and she hath thereon set her love on thee.  My\nown name is Liban, and I have brought to thee a message from my spouse,\nLabraid the Swift, the Sword-Wielder,\nthat he will give thee the woman in exchange for one day's service to\nhim in battle against Senach the Unearthly, and against Eochaid\nJuil,[FN#27] and against Yeogan the Stream.\"  \"I am in no fit state,\"\nhe said, \"to contend with men to-day.\"  \"That will last but a little\nwhile,\" she said; \"thou shalt be whole, and all that thou hast lost of\nthy strength shall be increased to thee.  Labraid shall bestow on thee\nthat boon, for he is the best of all warriors that are in the world.\"\n\n\n[FN#27]  Pronounced, nearly, Yeo-hay Yool.\n\n\n\"Where is it that Labraid dwelleth?\" asked Cuchulain.\n\n\"In Mag Mell,[FN#28] the Plain of Delight,\" said Liban; \"and now I\ndesire to go to another land,\" said she.\n\n\n[FN#28]  Pronounced Maw Mel.\n\n\n\"Let Laeg go with thee,\" said Cuchulain, \"that he may learn of the land\nfrom which thou hast come.\"  \"Let him come, then,\" said Liban.\n\nThey departed after that, and they went forward until they came to a\nplace where Fand was.  And Liban turned to seek for Laeg, and she set\nhim upon her shoulder.  \"Thou wouldest never go hence, O Laeg!\" said\nLiban, \"wert thou not under a woman's protection.\"  \"'Tis not a thing\nthat I have most been accustomed to up to this time,\" said Laeg, \"to be\nunder a woman's guard.\"  \"Shame, and everlasting shame,\" said Liban,\n\"that Cuchulain is not where thou art.\"  \"It were well for me,\"\nanswered Laeg, \"if it were indeed he who is here.\"\n\nThey passed on then, and went forward until they came opposite to the\nshore of an island, and there they saw a skiff of bronze lying upon the\nlake before them.  They entered into the skiff, and they crossed over\nto the island, and came to the palace door, and there they saw the man,\nand he came towards them.  And thus spoke Liban to the man whom they\nsaw there:\n\n\nSay where He, the Hand-on-Sword,\nLabra swift, abideth?\nHe who, of the triumphs lord,\nIn strong chariot rideth.\nWhen victorious troops are led,\nLabra hath the leading;\nHe it is, when spears are red,\nSets the points a-bleeding.\n\n\nAnd the man replied to her, and spoke thus:\n\n\nLabra, who of speed is son,\nComes, and comes not slowly;\nCrowded hosts together run,\nBent on warfare wholly.\nSoon upon the Forest Plain\nShall be set the killing;\nFor the hour when men are slain\nFidga's[FN#29] Fields are filling![FN#30]\n\n\n[FN#29]  Pronounced, nearly, Feega.\n\n[FN#30]  Irish metre approximately imitated in these stanzas.\n\n\nThey entered then into the palace, and they saw there thrice fifty\ncouches within the palace, and three times fifty women upon the\ncouches, and the women all bade Laeg welcome, and it was in these words\nthat they addressed him:\n\n\nHail! for the guide,\nLaeg! of thy quest:\nLaeg we beside\nHail, as our guest!\n\n\n\"What wilt thou do now?\" said Liban; \"wilt thou go on without a delay,\nand hold speech with Fand?\"\n\n\"I will go,\" he answered, \"if I may know the place where she is.\"\n\n\"That is no hard matter to tell thee,\" she answered; \"she is in her\nchamber apart.\"  They went therein, and they greeted Fand, and she\nwelcomed Laeg in the same fashion as the others had done.\n\nFand is the daughter of Aed Abra; Aed means fire, and he is the fire of\nthe eye: that is, of the eye's pupil: Fand moreover is the name of the\ntear that runs from the eye; it was on account of the clearness of her\nbeauty that she was so named, for there is nothing else in the world\nexcept a tear to which her beauty could be likened.\n\nNow, while they were thus in that place, they heard the rattle of\nLabraid's chariot as he approached the island.  \"The spirit of Labraid\nis gloomy to-day,\" said Liban, \"I will go and greet him.\"  And she went\nout, and she bade welcome to Labraid, and she spoke as follows:\n\n\nHail! the man who holdeth sword, the swift in fight!\nHeir of little armies, armed with javelins light;\nSpears he drives in splinters; bucklers bursts in twain;\nLimbs of men are wounded; nobles by him slain.\nHe for error searcheth, streweth gifts not small,\nHosts of men destroyeth; fairer he than all!\nHeroes whom he findeth feel his fierce attack;\nLabra! swiftest Sword-Hand! welcome to us back!\n\n\nLabraid made no reply to her, and the lady spoke again thus:\n\n\nWelcome! swift Labra,\nHand to sword set!\nAll win thy bounty,\nPraise thou shalt get;\nWarfare thou seekest,\nWounds seam thy side;\nWisely thou speakest,\nLaw canst decide;\nKindly thou rulest,\nWars fightest well;\nWrong-doers schoolest,\nHosts shalt repel.\n\n\nLabraid still made no answer, and she sang another lay thus:\n\n\nLabra! all hail!\nSword-wielder, swift:\nWar can he wage,\nWarriors can sift;\nValiant is he,\nFighters excels;\nMore than in sea\nPride in him swells;\nDown in the dust\nStrength doth he beat;\nThey who him trust\nRise to their feet\nWeak ones he'll raise,\nHumble the strong;\nLabra! thy praise\nPeals loud and long!\n\n\n\"Thou speakest not rightly, O lady,\" said Labraid; and he then spoke to\nher thus:\n\n\nO my wife! naught of boasting or pride is in me;\nNo renown would I claim, and no falsehood shall be:\nLamentation alone stirs my mind, for hard spears\nRise in numbers against me: dread contest appears:\nThe right arms of their heroes red broadswords shall swing;\nMany hosts Eochaid Juil holds to heart as their king:\nLet no pride then be ours; no high words let there be;\nPride and arrogance far should be, lady, from me!\n\n\n\"Let now thy mind be appeased,\" said the lady Liban to him.  \"Laeg, the\ncharioteer of Cuchulain, is here; and Cuchulain hath sent word to thee\nthat he will come to join thy hosts.\"\n\nThen Labraid bade welcome to Laeg, and he said to him: \"Welcome, O\nLaeg! for the sake of the lady with whom thou comest, and for the sake\nof him from whom thou hast come.  Do thou now go to thine own land, O\nLaeg!\" said Labraid, \"and Liban shall accompany thee.\"\n\nThen Laeg returned to Emain, and he gave news of what he had seen to\nCuchulain, and to all others beside; and Cuchulain rose up, and he\npassed his hand over his face, and he greeted Laeg brightly, and his\nmind was strengthened within him for the news that the lad had brought\nhim.\n\n[At this point occurs the break in the story indicated in the preface,\nand the description of the Bull-Feast at which Lugaid Red-Stripes is\nelected king over all Ireland; also the exhortation that Cuchulain,\nsupposed to be lying on his sick-bed, gives to Lugaid as to the duties\nof a king.  After this insertion, which has no real connection with the\nstory, the story itself proceeds, but from another point, for the\nthread is taken up at the place where Cuchulain has indeed awaked from\nhis trance, but is still on his sick-bed; the message of Angus appears\nto have been given, but Cuchulain does not seem to have met Liban for\nthe second time, nor to have sent Laeg to inquire.  Ethne has\ndisappeared as an actor from the scene; her place is taken by Emer,\nCuchulain's real wife; and the whole style of the romance so alters for\nthe better that, even if it were not for the want of agreement of the\ntwo versions, we could see that we have here two tales founded upon the\nsame legend but by two different hands, the end of the first and the\nbeginning of the second alike missing, and the gap filled in by the\nstory of the election of Lugaid.\n\nNow as to Cuchulain it has to be related thus: He called upon Laeg to\ncome to him; and \"Do thou go, O Laeg!\" said Cuchulain, \"to the place\nwhere Emer is; and say to her that women of the fairies have come upon\nme, and that they have destroyed my strength; and say also to her that\nit goeth better with me from hour to hour, and bid her to come and seek\nme;\" and the young man Laeg then spoke these words in order to hearten\nthe mind of Cuchulain:\n\n\nIt fits not heroes lying\nOn sick-bed in a sickly sleep to dream:\nWitches before thee flying\nOf Trogach's fiery Plain the dwellers seem:\nThey have beat down thy strength,\nMade thee captive at length,\nAnd in womanish folly away have they driven thee far.\n\nArise! no more be sickly!\nShake off the weakness by those fairies sent:\nFor from thee parteth quickly\nThy strength that for the chariot-chiefs was meant:\nThou crouchest, like a youth!\nArt thou subdued, in truth?\nHave they shaken thy prowess and deeds that were meet for the war\n\nYet Labra's power hath sent his message plain:\nRise, thou that crouchest: and be great again.\n\n\nAnd Laeg, after that heartening, departed; and he went on until he came\nto the place where Emer was; and he told her of the state of Cuchulain:\n\"Ill hath it been what thou hast done, O youth!\" she said; \"for\nalthough thou art known as one who dost wander in the lands where the\nfairies dwell; yet no virtue of healing hast thou found there and\nbrought for the cure of thy lord.  Shame upon the men of Ulster!\" she\nsaid, \"for they have not sought to do a great deed, and to heal him.\nYet, had Conor thus been fettered; had it been Fergus who had lost his\nsleep, had it been Conall the Victorious to whom wounds had been dealt,\nCuchulain would have saved them.\"  And she then sang a song, and in\nthis fashion she sang it:\n\n\nLaeg! who oft the fairy hill[FN#31]\nSearchest, slack I find thee still;\nLovely Dechtire's son shouldst thou\nBy thy zeal have healed ere now.\n\nUlster, though for bounties famed,\nFoster-sire and friends are shamed:\nNone hath deemed Cuchulain worth\nOne full journey through the earth.\n\nYet, if sleep on Fergus fell,\nSuch that magic arts dispel,\nDechtire's son had restless rode\nTill a Druid raised that load.\n\nAye, had Conall come from wars,\nWeak with wounds and recent scars;\nAll the world our Hound would scour\nTill he found a healing power.\n\nWere it Laegaire[FN#32] war had pressed,\nErin's meads would know no rest,\nTill, made whole from wounds, he won\nMach's grandchild, Conna's son.\n\nHad thus crafty Celthar slept,\nLong, like him, by sickness kept;\nThrough the elf-mounds, night and day,\nWould our Hound, to heal him, stray.\n\nFurbaid, girt by heroes strong,\nWere it he had lain thus long;\nAh! our Hound would rescue bear\nThough through solid earth he fare.\n\n\n[FN#31]  The metre of these verses is that of the Irish.\n\n[FN#32]  Pronounced Leary.\n\n\nAll the elves of Troom[FN#33] seem dead;\nAll their mighty deeds have fled;\nFor their Hound, who hounds surpassed,\nElves have bound in slumber fast.\n\nAh! on me thy sickness swerves,\nHound of Smith who Conor serves!\nSore my heart, my flesh must be:\nMay thy cure be wrought by me.\n\nAh! 'tis blood my heart that stains,\nSick for him who rode the plains:\nThough his land be decked for feast,\nHe to seek its plain hath ceased.\n\nHe in Emain still delays;\n'Tis those Shapes the bar that raise:\nWeak my voice is, dead its tone,\nHe in evil form is shown.\n\nMonth-long, year-long watch I keep;\nSeasons pass, I know not sleep:\nMen's sweet speech strikes not mine ear;\nNaught, Riangabra's[FN#34] son, I hear.\n\n\n[FN#33]  Spelt Truim.\n\n[FN#34]  Pronounced Reen-gabra.\n\n\nAnd, after that she had sung that song, Emer went forward to Emain that\nshe might seek for Cuchulain; and she seated herself in the chamber\nwhere Cuchulain was, and thus she addressed him: \"Shame upon thee!\" she\nsaid, \"to lie thus prostrate for a woman's love! well may this long\nsickbed of thine cause thee to ail!\"  And it was in this fashion that\nshe addressed him, and she chanted this lay:\n\n\nStand up, O thou hero of Ulster!\nWake from sleep! rise up, joyful and sound!\nLook on Conor the king! on my beauty,\nWill that loose not those slumbers profound?\n\nSee the Ulstermen's clear shining shoulders!\nHear their trumpets that call to the fight!\nSee their war-cars that sweep through the valleys,\nAs in hero-chess, leaping each knight.\n\nSee their chiefs, and the strength that adorns them,\nTheir tall maidens, so stately with grace;\nThe swift kings, springing on to the battle,\nThe great queens of the Ulstermen's race!\n\nThe clear winter but now is beginning;\nLo! the wonder of cold that hangs there!\n'Tis a sight that should warn thee; how chilly!\nOf what length I yet of colour how bare!\n\nThis long slumber is ill; it decays thee:\n'Tis like \"milk for the full\" the saw saith\nHard is war with fatigue; deadly weakness\nIs a Prince who stands second to Death.\n\nWake! 'tis joy for the sodden, this slumber;\nThrow it off with a great glowing heat:\nSweet-voiced friends for thee wait in great number:\nUlster's champion! stand up on thy feet!\n\n\nAnd Cuchulain at her word stood up; and he passed his hand over his\nface, and he cast all his heaviness and his weariness away from him,\nand then he arose, and went on his way before him until he came to the\nenclosure that he sought; and in that enclosure Liban appeared to him.\nAnd Liban spoke to him, and she strove to lead him into the fairy hill;\nbut \"What place is that in which Labraid dwelleth?\" said Cuchulain.  It\nis easy for me to tell thee!\" she said:\n\n\nLabra's home's a pure lake, whither\nTroops of women come and go;\nEasy paths shall lead thee thither,\nWhere thou shalt swift Labra know.\n\nHundreds his skilled arm repelleth;\nWise be they his deeds who speak:\nLook where rosy beauty dwelleth;\nLike to that think Labra's cheek.\n\nHead of wolf, for gore that thirsteth,\nNear his thin red falchion shakes;\nShields that cloak the chiefs he bursteth,\nArms of foolish foes he breaks.\n\nTrust of friend he aye requiteth,\nScarred his skin, like bloodshot eye;\nFirst of fairy men he fighteth;\nThousands, by him smitten, die.\n\nChiefs at Echaid[FN#35] Juil's name tremble;\nYet his land-strange tale-he sought,\nHe whose locks gold threads resemble,\nWith whose breath wine-scents are brought.\n\nMore than all strife-seekers noted,\nFiercely to far lands he rides;\nSteeds have trampled, skiffs have floated\nNear the isle where he abides.\n\nLabra, swift Sword-Wielder, gaineth\nFame for actions over sea;\nSleep for all his watch sustaineth!\nSure no coward hound is he.\n\nThe chains on the necks of the coursers he rides,\nAnd their bridles are ruddy with gold:\nHe hath columns of crystal and silver besides,\nThe roof of his house to uphold.\n\n\n[FN#35]  Pronounced, apparently, Ech-ay, the ch like the sound in\n\"loch.\"\n\n\n\"I will not go thither at a woman's call,\" said Cuchulain.  \"Let Laeg\nthen go,\" said the lady, \"and let him bring to thee tidings of all that\nis there.\"  \"Let him depart, then,\" said Cuchulain; and Laeg rose up\nand departed with Liban, and they came to the Plain of Speech, and to\nthe Tree of Triumphs, and over the festal plain of Emain, and over the\nfestal plain of Fidga, and in that place was Aed Abra, and with him his\ndaughters.\n\nThen Fand bade welcome to Laeg, and \"How is it,\" said she, \"that\nCuchulain hath not come with thee?\"  \"It pleased him not,\" said Laeg,\n\"to come at a woman's call; moreover, he desired to know whether it was\nindeed from thee that had come the message, and to have full knowledge\nof everything.\"  \"It was indeed from me that the message was sent,\" she\nsaid; \"and let now Cuchulain come swiftly to seek us, for it is for\nto-day that the strife is set.\"  Then Laeg went back to the place where\nhe had left Cuchulain, and Liban with him; and \"How appeareth this\nquest to thee, O Laeg?\" said Cuchulain.  And Laeg answering said, \"In a\nhappy hour shalt thou go,\" said he, \"for the battle is set for to-day;\"\nand it was in this manner that he spake, and he recited thus:\n\n\nI went gaily through regions,\nThough strange, seen before:\nBy his cairn found I Labra,\nA cairn for a score.\n\nThere sat yellow-haired Labra,\nHis spears round him rolled;\nHis long bright locks well gathered\nRound apple of gold.\n\nOn my five-folded purple\nHis glance at length fell,\nAnd he said, \"Come and enter\nWhere Failbe doth dwell.\"\n\nIn one house dwells white Failbe,\nWith Labra, his friend;\nAnd retainers thrice fifty\nEach monarch attend.\n\nOn the right, couches fifty,\nWhere fifty men rest;\nOn the left, fifty couches\nBy men's weight oppressed.\n\nFor each couch copper frontings,\nPosts golden, and white;\nAnd a rich flashing jewel\nAs torch, gives them light.\n\nNear that house, to the westward,\nWhere sunlight sinks down,\nStand grey steeds, with manes dappled\nAnd steeds purple-brown.\n\nOn its east side are standing\nThree bright purple trees\nWhence the birds' songs, oft ringing\nThe king's children please.\n\nFrom a tree in the fore-court\nSweet harmony streams;\nIt stands silver, yet sunlit\nWith gold's glitter gleams.\n\nSixty trees' swaying summits\nNow meet, now swing wide;\nRindless food for thrice hundred\nEach drops at its side.\n\nNear a well by that palace\nGay cloaks spread out lie,\nEach with splendid gold fastening\nWell hooked through its eye.\n\nThey who dwell there, find flowing\nA vat of glad ale:\n'Tis ordained that for ever\nThat vat shall not fail.\n\nFrom the hall steps a lady\nWell gifted, and fair:\nNone is like her in Erin;\nLike gold is her hair.\n\nAnd so sweet, and so wondrous\nHer words from her fall,\nThat with love and with longing\nShe breaks hearts of all.\n\n\"Who art thou?\" said that lady,\n\"For strange thou art here;\nBut if Him of Murthemne\nThou servest, draw near.\"\n\nSlowly, slowly I neared her;\nI feared for my fame:\nAnd she said, \"Comes he hither,\nOf Dechtire who came?\"\n\nAh! long since, for thy healing,\nThou there shouldst have gone,\nAnd have viewed that great palace\nBefore me that shone.\n\nThough I ruled all of Erin\nAnd yellow Breg's hill,\nI'd give all, no small trial,\nTo know that land still.\n\n\"The quest then is a good one?\" said Cuchulain.  \"It is goodly indeed,\"\nsaid Laeg, \"and it is right that thou shouldest go to attain it, and\nall things in that land are good.\"  And thus further also spoke Laeg,\nas he told of the loveliness of the fairy dwelling:\n\n\nI saw a land of noble form and splendid,\nWhere dwells naught evil; none can speak a lie:\nThere stands the king, by all his hosts attended,\nBrown Labra, swift to sword his hand can fly.\n\nWe crossed the Plain of Speech, our steps arrested\nNear to that Tree, whose branches triumphs bear;\nAt length upon the hill-crowned plain we rested,\nAnd saw the Double-Headed Serpent's lair.\n\nThen Liban said, as we that mount sat under:\n\"Would I could see--'twould be a marvel strange--\nYet, if I saw it, dear would be that wonder,\nif to Cuchulain's form thy form could change.\"\n\nGreat is the beauty of Aed Abra's daughters,\nUnfettered men before them conquered fall;\nFand's beauty stuns, like sound of rushing waters,\nBefore her splendour kings and queens seem small.\n\nThough I confess, as from the wise ones hearing,\nThat Adam's race was once unstained by sin; -\nYet did I swear, when Fand was there appearing,\nNone in past ages could such beauty win.\n\nI saw the champions stand with arms for slaying,\nRight splendid was the garb those heroes bore;\nGay coloured garments, meet for their arraying,\n'Twas not the vesture of rude churls they wore.\n\nWomen of music at the feast were sitting,\nA brilliant maiden bevy near them stood;\nAnd forms of noble youths were upwards flitting\nThrough the recesses of the mountain wood.\n\nI saw the folk of song; their strains rang sweetly,\nAs for the lady in that house they played;\nHad I not I fled away from thence, and fleetly,\nHurt by that music, I had weak been made.\n\nI know the hill where Ethne took her station,\nAnd Ethne Inguba's a lovely maid;\nBut none can drive from sense a warlike nation\nSave she alone, in beauty then displayed.\n\n\nAnd Cuchulain, when he had heard that report, went on with Liban to\nthat land, and he took his chariot with him.  And they came to the\nIsland of Labraid, and there Labraid and all the women that were there\nbade them welcome; and Fand gave an especial welcome to Cuchulain.\n\"What is there now set for us to do?\" said Cuchulain.  \"No hard matter\nto answer,\" said Labraid; \"we must go forth and make a circuit about\nthe army.\"  They went out then, and they came to the army, and they let\ntheir eyes wander over it; and the host seemed to them to be\ninnumerable.  \"Do thou arise, and go hence for the present,\" said\nCuchulain to Labraid; and Labraid departed, and Cuchulain remained\nconfronting the army.  And there were two ravens there, who spake, and\nrevealed Druid secrets, but the armies who heard them laughed.  \"It\nmust surely be the madman from Ireland who is there,\" said the army;\n\"it is he whom the ravens would make known to us;\" and the armies\nchased them away so that they found no resting-place in that land.\n\nNow at early morn Eochaid Juil went out in order to bathe his hands in\nthe spring, and Cuchulain saw his shoulder through the hood of his\ntunic, and he hurled his spear at him, and he pierced him.  And he by\nhimself slew thirty-and-three of them, and then Senach the Unearthly\nassailed him, and a great fight was fought between them, and Cuchulain\nslew him; and after that Labraid approached, and he brake before him\nthose armies.\n\nThen Labraid entreated Cuchulain to stay his hand from the slaying; and\n\"I fear now,\" said Laeg, \"that the man will turn his wrath upon us; for\nhe hath not found a war to suffice him.  Go now,\" said Laeg, \"and let\nthere be brought three vats of cold water to cool his heat.  The first\nvat into which he goeth shall boil over; after he hath gone into the\nsecond vat, none shall be able to bear the heat of it: after he hath\ngone into the third vat, its water shall have but a moderate heat.\"\n\nAnd when the women saw Cuchulain's return, Fand sang thus:\n\n\nFidga's[FN#36] plain, where the feast assembles,\nShakes this eve, as his car he guides;\nAll the land at the trampling trembles;\nYoung and beardless, in state he rides.\n\nBlood-red canopies o'er him swinging\nChant, but not as the fairies cry;\nDeeper bass from the car is singing,\nDeeply droning, its wheels reply.\n\nSteeds are bounding beneath the traces,\nNone to match them my thought can find;\nWait a while! I would note their graces:\nOn they sweep, like the spring's swift wind.\n\nHigh in air, in his breath suspended,\nFloat a fifty of golden balls;\nKings may grace in their sports have blended,\nNone his equal my mind recalls.\n\n\n[FN#36]  Pronounced, nearly, Fee-ga.\n\n\nDimples four on each cheek are glowing,\nOne seems green, one is tinged with blue,\nOne dyed red, as if blood were flowing,\nOne is purple, of lightest hue.\n\nSevenfold light from his eyeballs flashes,\nNone may speak him as blind, in scorn;\nProud his glances, and dark eyelashes\nBlack as beetle, his eyes adorn.\n\nWell his excellence fame confesses,\nAll through Erin his praise is sung;\nThree the hues of his high-piled tresses;\nBeardless yet, and a stripling young.\n\nRed his blade, it hath late been blooded;\nShines above it its silver hilt;\nGolden bosses his shield have studded,\nRound its rim the white bronze is spilt.\n\nO'er the slain in each slaughter striding,\nWar he seeketh, at risk would snatch:\nHeroes keen in your ranks are riding,\nNone of these is Cuchulain's match.\n\nFrom Murthemne he comes, we greet him,\nYoung Cuchulain, the champion strong;\nWe, compelled from afar to meet him,\nDaughters all of Aed Abra, throng.\n\nEvery tree, as a lordly token,\nStands all stained with the red blood rain\nWar that demons might wage is woken,\nWails peal high as he raves again.\n\n\nLiban moreover bade a welcome to Cuchulain, and she chanted as follows:\n\n\nHail to Cuchulain!\nLord, who canst aid;\nMurthemne ruling,\nMind undismayed;\nHero-like, glorious,\nHeart great and still\nBattle-victorious,\nFirm rock of skill;\nRedly he rageth,\nFoemen would face;\nBattle he wageth\nMeet for his race!\nBrilliant his splendour, like maidens' eyes,\nPraises we render: praise shall arise!\n\n\n\"Tell us now of the deeds thou hast done, O Cuchulain! cried Liban, and\nCuchulain in this manner replied to her:\n\n\nFrom my hand flew a dart, as I made my cast,\nThrough the host of Stream-Yeogan the javelin passed;\nNot at all did I know, though great fame was won,\nWho my victim had been, or what deed was done.\n\nWhether greater or less was his might than mine\nI have found not at all, nor can right divine;\nIn a mist was he hid whom my spear would slay,\nYet I know that he went not with life away.\n\nA great host on me closed, and on every side\nRose around me in hordes the red steeds they ride;\nFrom Manannan, the Son of the Sea, came foes,\nFrom Stream-Yeogan to call them a roar arose.\n\nAnd I went to the battle with all at length,\nWhen my weakness had passed, and I gat full strength;\nAnd alone with three thousands the fight I fought,\nTill death to the foes whom I faced was brought.\n\nI heard Echaid Juil's groan, as he neared his end,\nThe sound came to mine ears as from lips of friend;\nYet, if truth must be told, 'twas no valiant deed,\nThat cast that I threw, if 'twas thrown indeed.\n\n\nNow, after all these things had passed, Cuchulain slept with the lady,\nand he abode for a month in her company, and at the end of the month he\ncame to bid her farewell.  \"Tell me,\" she said, \"to what place I may go\nfor our tryst, and I will be there;\" and they made tryst at the strand\nthat is known as the Strand of the Yew-Tree's Head.\n\nNow word was brought to Emer of that tryst, and knives were whetted by\nEmer to slay the lady; and she came to the place of the tryst, and\nfifty women were with her.  And there she found, Cuchulain and Laeg,\nand they were engaged in the chess-play, so that they perceived not the\nwomen's approach.  But Fand marked it, and she cried out to Laeg: \"Look\nnow, O Laeg!\" she said, \"and mark that sight that I see.\"  \"What sight\nis that of which thou speakest?\" said Laeg, and he looked and saw it,\nand thus it was that the lady, even Fand, addressed him:\n\n\nLaeg! look behind thee!\nClose to thine ear\nWise, well-ranked women\nPress on us near;\nBright on each bosom\nShines the gold clasp;\nKnives, with green edges\nWhetted, they grasp:\nAs for the slaughter chariot chiefs race,\nComes Forgall's daughter; changed is her face.\n\n\"Have no fear,\" said Cuchulain, \"no foe shalt thou meet;\nEnter thou my strong car, with its sunny bright seat:\nI will set thee before me, will guard thee from harm\nAgainst women, from Ulster's four quarters that swarm:\nThough the daughter of Forgall the war with thee vows,\nThough her dear foster-sisters against thee she rouse,\nNo deed of destruction bold Emer will dare,\nThough she rageth against thee, for I will be there.\"\n\n\nMoreover to Emer he said:\n\n\nI avoid thee, O lady, as heroes\nAvoid to meet friends in a strife;\nThe hard spear thy hand shakes cannot injure,\nNor the blade of thy thin gleaming knife;\nFor the wrath pent within thee that rageth\nIs but weak, nor can cause mine affright:\nIt were hard if the war my might wageth\nMust be quenched by a weak woman's might!\n\n\"Speak! and tell me, Cuchulain,\" cried Emer,\n\"Why this shame on my head thou wouldst lay?\nBefore women of Ulster dishonoured I stand,\nAnd all women who dwell in the wide Irish land,\nAnd all folk who love honour beside:\nThough I came on thee, secretly creeping,\nThough oppressed by thy might I remain,\nAnd though great is thy pride in the battle,\nIf thou leavest me, naught is thy gain:\nWhy, dear youth, such attempt dost thou make?\n\n\"Speak thou, Emer, and say,\" said Cuchulain,\n\"Should I not with this lady delay?\nFor this lady is fair, pare and bright, and well skilled,\nA fit mate for a monarch, in beauty fulfilled,\nAnd the billows of ocean can ride:\nShe is lovely in countenance, lofty in race,\nAnd with handicraft skilled can fine needlework trace,\nHath a mind that with firmness can guide:\n\nAnd in steeds hath she wealth, and much cattle\nDoth she own; there is naught under sky\nA dear wife for a spouse should be keeping\nBut that gift with this lady have I:\nThough the vow that I made thee I break,\nThou shalt ne'er find champion\nRich, like me, in scars;\nNe'er such worth, such brilliance,\nNone who wins my wars.\"\n\n\n\"In good sooth,\" answered Emer, \"the lady to whom thou dost cling is in\nno way better than am I myself!  Yet fair seems all that's red; seems\nwhite what's new alone; and bright what's set o'erhead; and sour are\nthings well known!  Men worship what they lack; and what they have\nseems weak; in truth thou hast all the wisdom of the time!  O youth!\"\nshe said, \"once we dwelled in honour together, and we would so dwell\nagain, if only I could find favour in thy sight!\" and her grief weighed\nheavily upon her.  \"By my word,\" said Cuchulain, \"thou dost find\nfavour, and thou shalt find it so long as I am in life.\"\n\n\"Desert me, then!\" cried Fand.  \"Nay,\" said Emer, \"it is more fitting\nthat I should be the deserted one.\"  \"Not so, indeed,\" said Fand.  \"It\nis I who must go, and danger rusheth upon me from afar.\"  And an\neagerness for lamentation seized upon Fand, and her soul was great\nwithin her, for it was shame to her to be deserted and straightway to\nreturn to her home; moreover the mighty love that she bare to Cuchulain\nwas tumultuous in her, and in this fashion she lamented, and lamenting\nsang this song:\n\n\nMighty need compels me,\nI must go my way;\nFame for others waiteth,\nWould I here could stay!\n\nSweeter were it resting\nGuarded by thy power,\nThan to find the marvels\nIn Aed Abra's bower.\n\nEmer! noble lady!\nTake thy man to thee:\nThough my arms resign him,\nLonging lives in me.\n\nOft in shelters hidden\nMen to seek me came;\nNone could win my trysting,\nI myself was flame.\n\nAh! no maid her longing\nOn a man should set\nTill a love full equal\nTo her own she get.\n\nFifty women hither,\nEmer! thou hast brought\nThou wouldst Fand make captive,\nHast on murder thought.\n\nTill the day I need them\nWaits, my home within;\nThrice thy host! fair virgins,\nThese my war shall win.\n\n\nNow upon this it was discerned by Manannan that Fand the daughter of\nAed Abra was engaged in unequal warfare with the women of Ulster, and\nthat she was like to be left by Cuchulain.  And thereon Manannan came\nfrom the east to seek for the lady, and he was perceived by her, nor\nwas there any other conscious of his presence saving Fand alone.  And,\nwhen she saw Manannan, the lady was seized by great bitterness of mind\nand by grief, and being thus, she made this song:\n\n\nLo! the Son of the Sea-Folk from plains draws near\nWhence Yeogan, the Stream, is poured;\n'Tis Manannan, of old he to me was dear,\nAnd above the fair world we soared.\n\nYet to-day, although excellent sounds his cry,\nNo love fills my noble heart,\nFor the pathways of love may be bent awry,\nIts knowledge in vain depart.\n\nWhen I dwelt in the bower of the Yeogan Stream,\nAt the Son of the Ocean's side,\nOf a life there unending was then our dream,\nNaught seemed could our love divide.\n\nWhen the comely Manannan to wed me came,\nTo me, as a spouse, full meet;\nNot in shame was I sold, in no chessmen's game\nThe price of a foe's defeat.\n\nWhen the comely Manannan my lord was made,\nWhen I was his equal spouse,\nThis armlet of gold that I bear he paid\nAs price for my marriage vows.\n\nThrough the heather came bride-maids, in garments brave\nOf all colours, two score and ten;\nAnd beside all the maidens my bounty gave\nTo my husband a fifty men.\n\nFour times fifty our host; for no frenzied strife\nIn our palace was pent that throng,\nWhere a hundred strong men led a gladsome life,\nOne hundred fair dames and strong.\n\nManannan draws near: over ocean he speeds,\nFrom all notice of fools is he free;\nAs a horseman he comes, for no vessel he needs\nWho rides the maned waves of the sea.\n\nHe hath passed near us now, though his visage to view\nIs to all, save to fairies, forbid;\nEvery troop of mankind his keen sight searcheth through,\nThough small, and in secret though hid.\n\nBut for me, this resolve in my spirit shall dwell,\nSince weak, being woman's, my mind;\nSince from him whom so dearly I loved, and so well,\nOnly danger and insult I find.\n\nI will go! in mine honour unsullied depart,\nFair Cuchulain! I bid thee good-bye;\nI have gained not the wish that was dear to my heart,\nHigh justice compels me to fly.\n\nIt is flight, this alone that befitteth my state,\nThough to some shall this parting be hard:\nO thou son of Riangabra! the insult was great:\nNot by Laeg shall my going be barred.\n\nI depart to my spouse; ne'er to strife with a foe\nShall Manannan his consort expose;\nAnd, that none may complain that in secret I go,\nBehold him! his form I disclose!\n\n\nThen that lady rose behind Manannan as he passed, and Manannan greeted\nher: \"O lady!\" he said, \"which wilt thou do? wilt thou depart with me,\nor abide here until Cuchulain comes to thee?\"  \"By my troth,\" answered\nFand, \"either of the two of ye were a fitting spouse to adhere to; and\nneither of you two is better than the other; yet, Manannan, it is with\nthee that I go, nor will I wait for Cuchulain, for he hath betrayed me;\nand there is another matter, moreover, that weigheth with me, O thou\nnoble prince!\" said she, \"and that is that thou hast no consort who is\nof worth equal to thine, but such a one hath Cuchulain already.\"\nAnd Cuchulain saw the lady as she went from him to Manannan, and he\ncried out to Laeg: \"What meaneth this that I see?\"  \"'Tis no hard\nmatter to answer thee,\" said Laeg. \"Fand goeth away with Manannan the\nSon of the Sea, since she hath not been pleasing in thy sight!\"\n\nThen Cuchulain bounded three times high into the air, and he made three\ngreat leaps towards the south, and thus he came to Tara Luachra,[FN#37]\nand there he abode for a long time, having no meat and no drink,\ndwelling upon the mountains, and sleeping upon the high-road that\nrunneth through the midst of Luachra.\nThen Emer went on to Emain, and there she sought out king Conor, and\nshe told Conor of Cuchulain's state, and Conor sent out his learned men\nand the people of skill, and the Druids of Ulster, that they might seek\nfor Cuchulain, and might bind him fast, and bring him with them to\nEmain.  And Cuchulain strove to slay the people of skill, but they\nchanted wizard and fairy songs against him, and they bound fast his\nfeet and his hands until he came a little to his senses.  Then he\nbegged for a drink at their hands, and the Druids gave him a drink of\nforgetfulness, so that afterwards he had no more remembrance of Fand\nnor of anything else that he had then done; and they also gave a drink\nof forgetfulness to Emer that she might forget her jealousy, for her\nstate was in no way better than the state of Cuchulain.  And Manannan\nshook his cloak between Cuchulain and Fand, so that they might never\nmeet together again throughout eternity.\n\n\n[FN#37]  Pronounced Looch-ra: Tara Luachra is on the borders of\nLimerick and Kerry.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EXILE OF THE SONS' OF USNACH\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThe version given in the following pages of the well-known tale of\nDeirdre has been translated from the Irish text of the Book of Leinster\nversion as printed by Windisch in Irische Texte, vol. i.  Readings from\nthe two parallel texts of the Book of Lecan, and Egerton, 1782, have\nbeen used where the Leinster text is deficient or doubtful, but the\nolder MS. has in the main been followed, the chief alterations being\nindicated in the notes.  The only English translation hitherto given of\nthis version is the unreliable one in Atlantis, vol. iii.  There is a\nGerman translation in Thurneysen's Sagen aus dem alten Irland which may\nbe consulted for literal renderings of most of the verse portions,\nwhich, however, are sometimes nearer the original than Thurneysen's\nrenderings.\n\nIt was at first intended to place beside this version the much better\nknown version of the tale given by the Glenn Masain manuscript and its\nvariants; but, as this version is otherwise available in\nEnglish,[FN#38] it has been thought better to omit most of it: a verse\ntranslation of Deirdre's final lament in this version has, however,\nbeen added for the purpose of comparing it with the corresponding\nlament in the Leinster text.  These two poems are nearly of the same\nlength, but have no other point in common; the lament in the Leinster\nversion strikes the more personal note, and it has been suggested that\nit shows internal evidence that it must have been written by a woman.\nThe idea of Deirdre as a seer, which is so prominent in the Glenn\nMasain version of the tale, does not appear in the older Leinster text;\nthe supernatural Druidic mist, which even in the Glenn Masain version\nonly appears in the late manuscript which continues the story after the\nfifteenth-century manuscript breaks off, does not appear in the Book of\nLeinster; and the later version introduces several literary artifices\nthat do not appear in the earlier one.  That portion of the Glenn\nMasain version immediately following after Deirdre's lament is given as\nan instance of one of these, the common artifice of increase of horror\nat a catastrophe by the introduction of irrelevant matter, the tragedy\nof Deirdre's death being immediately followed by a cheerful account of\nthe relationships of the chief heroes of the Heroic Period; a still\nbetter example of this practice in the old Irish literature is the\nalmost comic relief that is introduced at the most tragic part of the\ntale of the murder of the son of Ronan.\n\n\n[FN#38]  See Irische Texte, vol. ii., and the Celtic Review, vol. i.\n1904-1905.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EXILE OF THE SONS OF USNACH\n\n\n\nBOOK OF LEINSTER VERSION\n\n\nIn the house of Feidlimid,[FN#39] the son of Dall, even he who was the\nnarrator of stories to Conor the king, the men of Ulster sat at their\nale; and before the men, in order to attend upon them, stood the wife\nof Feidlimid, and she was great with child.  Round about the board went\ndrinking-horns, and portions of food; and the revellers shouted in\ntheir drunken mirth.  And when the men desired to lay themselves down\nto sleep, the woman also went to her couch; and, as she passed through\nthe midst of the house, the child cried out in her womb, so that its\nshriek was heard throughout the whole house, and throughout the outer\ncourt that lay about it.  And upon that shriek, all the men sprang up;\nand, head closely packed by head, they thronged together in the house,\nwhereupon Sencha, the son of Ailill, rebuked them: \"Let none of you\nstir!\" cried he, \"and let the woman be brought before us, that we may\nlearn what is the meaning of that cry.\"  Then they brought the woman\nbefore them, and thus spoke to her Feidlimid, her spouse:\n\n\nWhat is that, of all cries far the fiercest,\nIn thy womb raging loudly and long?\nThrough all ears with that clamour thou piercest;\nWith that scream, from Bides swollen and strong:\nOf great woe, for that cry, is foreboding my heart;\nThat is torn through with terror, and sore with the smart.\n\n\n[FN#39]  Pronounced Feylimid.\n\n\nThen the woman turned her, and she approached Cathbad[FN#40] the Druid,\nfor he was a man of knowledge, and thus she spoke to him:\n\n\n[FN#40]  Pronounced Cah-ba.\n\n\nGive thou ear to me, Cathbad, thou fair one of face,\nThou great crown of our honour, and royal in race;\nLet the man so exalted still higher be set,\nLet the Druid draw knowledge, that Druids can get.\nFor I want words of wisdom, and none can I fetch;\nNor to Felim a torch of sure knowledge can stretch:\nAs no wit of a woman can wot what she bears,\nI know naught of that cry from within me that tears.\n\n\nAnd then said Cathbad:\n\n\n'Tis a maid who screamed wildly so lately,\nFair and curling shall locks round her flow,\nAnd her eyes be blue-centred and stately;\nAnd her cheeks, like the foxglove, shall glow.\nFor the tint of her skin, we commend her,\nIn its whiteness, like snow newly shed;\nAnd her teeth are all faultless in splendour\nAnd her lips, like to coral, are red:\nA fair woman is she, for whom heroes,\nthat fight In their chariots for Ulster, to death shall be dight.\n\n'Tis a woman that shriek who hath given,\nGolden-haired, with long tresses, and tall;\nFor whose love many chiefs shall have striven,\nAnd great kings for her favours shall call.\nTo the west she shall hasten, beguiling\nA great host, that from Ulster shall steal:\nRed as coral, her lips shall be smiling,\nAs her teeth, white as pearls, they reveal:\nAye, that woman is fair, and great queens shall be fain\nOf her form, that is faultless, unflawed by a stain.\n\n\nThen Cathbad laid his hand upon the body of the woman; and the little\nchild moved beneath his hand: \"Aye, indeed,\" he said, \"it is a woman\nchild who is here: Deirdre shall be her name, and evil woe shall be\nupon her.\"\n\nNow some days after that came the girl child into the world; and then\nthus sang Cathbad:\n\n\nO Deirdre! of ruin great cause thou art;\nThough famous, and fair, and pale:\nEre that Felim's hid daughter from life shall part,\nAll Ulster her deeds shall wail.\n\nAye, mischief shall come, in the after-time,\nThou fair shining maid, for thee;\nHear ye this: Usna's sons, the three chiefs sublime,\nTo banishment forced shall be.\n\nWhile thou art in life, shall a fierce wild deed\nIn Emain, though late, be done:\nLater yet, it shall mourn it refused to heed\nThe guard of Rog's powerful son.\n\nO lady of worth! It is to thee we owe\nThat Fergus to exile flies;\nThat a son of king Conor we hail in woe,\nWhen Fiachna[FN#41] is hurt, and dies.\n\nO lady of worth! It is all thine the guilt!\nGerrc, Illadan's son, is slain;\nAnd when Eogan mac Doorha's great life is spilt,\nNot less shall be found our pain.\n\nGrim deed shalt thou do, and in wrath shalt rave\nAgainst glorious Ulster's king:\nIn that spot shall men dig thee thy tiny grave;\nOf Deirdre they long shall sing.\n\n\n[FN#41]  Pronounced Feena.\n\n\n\"Let that maiden be slain!\" cried out the young men of Ulster; but \"Not\nso!\" said Conor; \"she shall in the morning be brought to me, and shall\nbe reared according to my will, and she shall be my wife, and in my\ncompanionship shall she dwell.\"\n\nThe men of Ulster were not so hardy as to turn him from his purpose,\nand thus it was done.  The maiden was reared in a house that belonged\nto Conor, and she grew up to be the fairest maid in all Ireland.  She\nwas brought up at a distance from the king's court; so that none of the\nmen of Ulster might see her till the time came when she was to share\nthe royal couch: none of mankind was permitted to enter the house where\nshe was reared, save only her foster-father, and her foster-mother; and\nin addition to these Levorcham, to whom naught could any refuse, for\nshe was a witch.\n\nNow once it chanced upon a certain day in the time of winter that the\nfoster-father of Deirdre had employed himself in skinning a calf upon\nthe snow, in order to prepare a roast for her, and the blood of the\ncalf lay upon the snow, and she saw a black raven who came down to\ndrink it.  And \"Levorcham,\" said Deirdre, \"that man only will I love,\nwho hath the three colours that I see here, his hair as black as the\nraven, his cheeks red like the blood, and his body as white as the\nsnow.\"  \"Dignity and good fortune to thee!\" said Levorcham; \"that man\nis not far away.  Yonder is he in the burg which is nigh; and the name\nof him is Naisi, the son of Usnach.\"  \"I shall never be in good health\nagain,\" said Deirdre, \"until the time come when I may see him.\"\n\nIt befell that Naisi was upon a certain day alone upon the rampart of\nthe burg of Emain, and he sent his warrior-cry with music abroad: well\ndid the musical cry ring out that was raised by the sons of Usnach.\nEach cow and every beast that heard them, gave of milk two-thirds more\nthan its wont; and each man by whom that cry was heard deemed it to be\nfully joyous, and a dear pleasure to him.  Goodly moreover was the play\nthat these men made with their weapons; if the whole province of Ulster\nhad been assembled together against them in one place, and they three\nonly had been able to set their backs against one another, the men of\nUlster would not have borne away victory from those three: so well were\nthey skilled in parry and defence.  And they were swift of foot when\nthey hunted the game, and with them it was the custom to chase the\nquarry to its death.\n\nNow when this Naisi found himself alone on the plain, Deirdre also soon\nescaped outside her house to him, and she ran past him, and at first he\nknow not who she might be.\n\n\n\"Fair is the young heifer that springs past me!\" he cried.\n\n\"Well may the young heifers be great,\" she said, \"in a place where none\nmay find a bull.\"\n\n\"Thou hast, as thy bull,\" said he, \"the bull of the whole province of\nUlster, even Conor the king of Ulster.\"\n\n\"I would choose between you two,\" she said, \"and I would take for\nmyself a younger bull, even such as thou art.\"\n\n\"Not so indeed,\" said Naisi, \"for I fear the prophecy of Cathbad.\"\n\n\"Sayest thou this, as meaning to refuse me?\" said she.\n\n\"Yea indeed,\" he said; and she sprang upon him, and she seized him by\nhis two ears.  \"Two ears of shame and of mockery shalt thou have,\" she\ncried, \"if thou take me not with thee.\"  \"Release me, O my wife!\" said\nhe.\n\n\"That will I.\"\n\nThen Naisi raised his musical warrior-cry, and the men of Ulster heard\nit, and each of them one after another sprang up: and the sons of\nUsnach hurried out in order to hold back their brother.\n\n\"What is it,\" they said, \"that thou dost? let it not be by any fault of\nthine that war is stirred up between us and the men of Ulster.\"\n\nThen he told them all that had been done; and \"There shall evil come on\nthee from this,\" said they; \"moreover thou shalt lie under the reproach\nof shame so long as thou dost live; and we will go with her into\nanother land, for there is no king in all Ireland who will refuse us\nwelcome if we come to him.\"\n\nThen they took counsel together, and that same night they departed,\nthree times fifty warriors, and the same number of women, and dogs, and\nservants, and Deirdre went with them.  And for a long time they\nwandered about Ireland, in homage to this man or that; and often Conor\nsought to slay them, either by ambuscade or by treachery; from round\nabout Assaroe, near to Ballyshannon in the west, they journeyed, and\nthey turned them back to Benn Etar, in the north-east, which men to-day\ncall the Mountain of Howth.  Nevertheless the men of Ulster drave them\nfrom the land, and they came to the land of Alba, and in its\nwildernesses they dwelled.  And when the chase of the wild beasts of\nthe mountains failed them, they made foray upon the cattle of the men\nof Alba, and took them for themselves; and the men of Alba gathered\nthemselves together with intent to destroy them.  Then they took\nshelter with the king of Alba, and the king took them into his\nfollowing, and they served him in war.  And they made for themselves\nhouses of their own in the meadows by the king's burg: it was on\naccount of Deirdre that these houses were made, for they feared that\nmen might see her, and that on her account they might be slain.\n\nNow one day the high-steward of the king went out in the early morning,\nand he made a cast about Naisi's house, and saw those two sleeping\ntherein, and he hurried back to the king, and awaked him: \"We have,\"\nsaid he, \"up to this day found no wife for thee of like dignity to\nthyself.  Naisi the son of Usnach hath a wife of worth sufficient for\nthe emperor of the western world!  Let Naisi be slain, and let his wife\nshare thy couch.\"\n\n\"Not so!\" said the king, \"but do thou prepare thyself to go each day to\nher house, and woo her for me secretly.\"\n\nThus was it done; but Deirdre, whatsoever the steward told her, was\naccustomed straightway to recount it each even to her spouse; and since\nnothing was obtained from her, the sons of Usnach were sent into\ndangers, and into wars, and into strifes that thereby they might be\novercome.  Nevertheless they showed themselves to be stout in every\nstrife, so that no advantage did the king gain from them by such\nattempts as these.\n\nThe men of Alba were gathered together to destroy the sons of Usnach,\nand this also was told to Deirdre.  And she told her news to Naisi:\n\"Depart hence!\" said she, \"for if ye depart not this night, upon the\nmorrow ye shall he slain!\"  And they marched away that night, and they\nbetook themselves to an island of the sea.\n\nNow the news of what had passed was brought to the men of Ulster.\n\"'Tis pity, O Conor!\" said they, \"that the sons of Usnach should die in\nthe land of foes, for the sake of an evil woman.  It is better that\nthey should come under thy protection,[FN#42] and that the (fated)\nslaying should be done here, and that they should come into their own\nland, rather than that they should fall at the hands of foes.\"  \"Let\nthem come to us then,\" said Conor, \"and let men go as securities to\nthem.\"  The news was brought to them.\n\n\n[FN#42]  Literally, \"It is better their protection, and their slaying,\nand coming for them to their own land, &c.\"  If this reading is right\n(and three MSS. agree), the extended words of the text seem to give the\nintention: it is, however, possible that the reading should be, \"It is\nbetter their protection than their slaying\" (oldaas for ocus), which\nwould make sense at once.  The idea of the text seems to be that the\nsons of Usnach were, owing to Cathbad's prophecy, thought of as fated\nmen; and it was only a question where they should be put to death.\n\n\n\"This is welcome news for us,\" they said; \"we will indeed come, and let\nFergus come as our surety, and Dubhtach, and Cormac the son of Conor.\"\nThese then went to them, and they moved them to pass over the sea.\n\nBut at the contrivance of Conor, Fergus was pressed to join in an\nale-feast, while the sons of Usnach were pledged to eat no food in\nErin, until they had eaten the food of Conor.  So Fergus tarried behind\nwith Dubhtach and Cormac; and the sons of Usnach went on, accompanied\nby Fiacha, Fergus' son; until they came to the meadows around Emain.\n\nNow at that time Eogan the son of Durthacht had come to Emain to make\nhis peace with Conor, for they had for a long time been at enmity; and\nto him, and to the warmen of Conor, the charge was given that they\nshould slay the sons of Usnach, in order that they should not come\nbefore the king.  The sons of Usnach stood upon the level part of. the\nmeadows, and the women sat upon the ramparts of Emain.  And Eogan came\nwith his warriors across the meadow, and the son of Fergus took his\nplace by Naisi's side.  And Eogan greeted them with a mighty thrust of\nhis spear, and the spear brake Naisi's back in sunder, and passed\nthrough it.  The son of Fergus made a spring, and he threw both arms\naround Naisi, and he brought him beneath himself to shelter him, while\nhe threw himself down above him; and it was thus that Naisi was slain,\nthrough the body of the son of Fergus.  Then there began a murder\nthroughout the meadow, so that none escaped who did not fall by the\npoints of the spears, or the edge of the sword, and Deirdre was brought\nto Conor to be in his power, and her arms were bound behind her back.\n\nNow the sureties who had remained behind, heard what had been done,\neven Fergus and Dubhtach, and Cormac.  And thereon they hastened\nforward, and they forthwith performed great deeds.  Dubhtach slew, with\nthe one thrust of his spear, Mane a son of Conor, and Fiachna the son\nof Feidelm, Conor's daughter; and Fergus struck down Traigthren, the\nson of Traiglethan, and his brother.  And Conor was wrath at this, and\nhe came to the fight with them; so that upon that day three hundred of\nthe men of Ulster fell and Dubhtach slew the women of Ulster; and, ere\nthe day dawned, Fergus set Emain on fire.  Then they went away into\nexile, and betook them to the land of Connaught to find shelter with\nAilill and Maev, for they knew that that royal pair would give them\ngood entertainment.  To the men of Ulster the exiles showed no love:\nthree thousand stout men went with them; and for sixteen years never\ndid they allow cries of lamentation and of fear among the Ulstermen to\ncease: each night their vengeful forays caused men to quake, and to\nwail.\n\nDeirdre lived on for a year in the household of Conor; and during all\nthat time she smiled no smile of laughter; she satisfied not herself\nwith food or with sleep, and she raised not her head from her knee.\nAnd if any one brought before her people of mirth, she used to speak\nthus:\n\n\nThough eager troops, and fair to see,[FN#43]\nMay home return, though these ye wait:\nWhen Usna's sons came home to me,\nThey came with more heroic state.\n\nWith hazel mead, my Naisi stood:\nAnd near our fire his bath I'd pour;\nOn Aindle's stately back the wood;\nOn Ardan's ox, or goodly boar.\n\nThough sweet that goodly mead ye think\nThat warlike Conor drinks in hall,\nI oft have known a sweeter drink,\nWhere leaps in foam the waterfall:\n\nOur board was spread beneath the tree,\nAnd Naisi raised the cooking flame:\nMore sweet than honey-sauced to me\nWas meat, prepared from Naisi's game.\n\n\n[FN#43]  A literal rendering of this poem will be found in the notes,\np. 187.\n\n\nThough well your horns may music blow,\nThough sweet each month your pipes may sound,\nI fearless say, that well I know\nA sweeter strain I oft have found.\n\nThough horns and pipes be sounding clear,\nThough Conor's mind in these rejoice,\nMore magic strain, more sweet, more dear\nWas Usna's Children's noble voice.\n\nLike sound of wave, rolled Naisi's bass;\nWe'd hear him long, so sweet he sang:\nAnd Ardan's voice took middle place;\nAnd clearly Aindle's tenor rang.\n\nNow Naisi lies within his tomb:\nA sorry guard his friends supplied;\nHis kindred poured his cup of doom,\nThat poisoned cup, by which he died.\n\nAh! Berthan dear! thy lands are fair;\nThy men are proud, though hills be stern:\nAlas! to-day I rise not there\nTo wait for Usna's sons' return.\n\nThat firm, just mind, so loved, alas!\nThe dear shy youth, with touch of scorn,\nI loved with him through woods to pass,\nAnd girding in the early morn.\n\nWhen bent on foes, they boded ill,\nThose dear grey eyes, that maids adored;\nWhen, spent with toil, his troops lay still,\nThrough Irish woods his tenor soared.\n\nFor this it is, no more I sleep;\nNo more my nails with pink I stain:\nNo joy can break the watch I keep;\nFor Usna's sons come not again.\n\nFor half the night no sleep I find;\nNo couch can me to rest beguile:\n'Mid crowds of thoughts still strays my mind;\nI find no time to eat or smile.\n\nIn eastern Emain's proud array\nNo time to joy is left for me;\nFor gorgeous house, and garments gay,\nNor peace, nor joy, nor rest can be.\n\n\nAnd when Conor sought to soothe her; thus Deirdre would answer him:\n\n\nAh Conor! what of thee! I naught can do!\nLament and sorrow on my life have passed:\nThe ill you fashioned lives my whole life through;\nA little time your love for me would last.\n\nThe man to me most fair beneath the sky,\nThe man I loved, in death away you tore:\nThe crime you did was great; for, till I die,\nThat face I loved I never shall see more.\n\nThat he is gone is all my sorrow still;\nBefore me looms the shape of Usna's son;\nThough o'er his body white is yon dark hill,\nThere's much I'd lavish, if but him I won.\n\nI see his cheeks, with meadow's blush they glow;\nBlack as a beetle, runs his eyebrows' line;\nHis lips are red; and, white as noble snow\nI see his teeth, like pearls they seem to shine.\n\nWell have I known the splendid garb he bears,\nOft among Alba's warriors seen of old:\nA crimson mantle, such as courtier wears,\nAnd edged with border wrought of ruddy gold.\n\nOf silk his tunic; great its costly price;\nFor full one hundred pearls thereon are sewn;\nStitched with findruine,[FN#44] bright with strange device,\nFull fifty ounces weighed those threads alone.\n\nGold-hilted in his hand I see his sword;\nTwo spears he holds, with spear-heads grim and green;\nAround his shield the yellow gold is poured,\nAnd in its midst a silver boss is seen.\n\nFair Fergus ruin on us all hath brought!\nWe crossed the ocean, and to him gave heed:\nHis honour by a cup of ale was bought;\nFrom him hath passed the fame of each high deed.\n\nIf Ulster on this plain were gathered here\nBefore king Conor; and those troops he'd give,\nI'd lose them all, nor think the bargain dear,\nIf I with Naisi, Usna's son, could live.\n\nBreak not, O king, my heart to-day in me;\nFor soon, though young, I come my grave unto:\nMy grief is stronger than the strength of sea;\nThou, Conor, knowest well my word is true.\n\n\n\"Whom dost thou hate the most,\" said Conor, \"of these whom thou now\nseest?\"\n\n\"Thee thyself,\" she answered, \"and with thee Eogan the son of\nDurthacht.\"\n\n\n[FN#44]  Pronounced find-roony; usually translated \"white bronze.\"\n\n\n\"Then,\" said Conor, \"thou shalt dwell with Eogan for a year;\" and he\ngave Deirdre over into Eogan's hand.\n\nNow upon the morrow they went away over the festal plain of Macha, and\nDeirdre sat behind Eogan in the chariot; and the two who were with her\nwere the two men whom she would never willingly have seen together upon\nthe earth, and as she looked upon them, \"Ha, Deirdre,\" said Conor, \"it\nis the same glance that a ewe gives when between two rams that thou\nsharest now between me and Eogan!\"  Now there was a great rock of stone\nin front of them, and Deirdre struck her head upon that stone, and she\nshattered her head, and so she died.\n\nThis then is the tale of the exile of the sons of Usnach, and of the\nExile of Fergus, and of the death of Deirdre.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAMENT OF DEIRDRE OVER THE SONS OF USNACH\n\n\n\nACCORDING TO THE GLENN MASAIN VERSION\n\nALSO THE CONCLUSION OF THE TALE FROM THE SAME VERSION\n\n\nI grieved not, Usna's sons beside;\nBut long, without them, lags the day:\nTheir royal sire no guest denied;\nThree lions from Cave Hill were they.\n\nThree dragons bred in Mona's fort\nAre dead: to them from life I go;\nThree chiefs who graced the Red Branch Court,\nThree rocks, who broke the rush of foe.\n\nO loved by many a British maid!\nO swift as hawks round Gullion's peak!\nTrue sons of king, who warriors swayed,\nTo whom bent chiefs in homage meek.\n\nNo vassal look those champions wore;\nFull grief is mine that such should die!\nThose sons, whom Cathbad's daughter bore;\nThose props, who Cualgne's[FN#45] war held high.\n\n\n[FN#45]  Pronounced Kell-ny.\n\n\nThree bears of might, to war they came;\nFrom Oona's walls, like lions, burst;\nThree hero-chiefs, who loved their fame;\nThree sons, on Ulster's bosom nursed.\n\nTwas Aife[FN#46] reared them; 'neath her yoke\nA kingdom bowed, and tribute brought;\nThey propped the war, when armies broke,\nThose foster-sons, whom Scathach[FN#47] taught.\n\nThe Three, who once from Bohvan's skill\nAll feats have learned that heroes know;\nKing Usna's glorious sons! 'tis ill\nThat these afar from me should go.\n\nThat I should live, with Naisi dead,\nLet none such shame believe of me;\nWhen Ardan's life, when Ainnle's fled,\nBut short my life I knew would be.\n\nGreat Ulster's king my hand had won;\nI left him, Naisi's love to find;\nTill Naisi's funeral rites be done,\nI wait a little while behind.\n\nThis widowed life no more I'll bear;\nThe Three rejoiced, when toil they faced;\nWhere'er 'twas found, the war they'd dare,\nAnd proffered fight with joy embraced.\n\nA curse on Cathbad's wizard spell!\n'Twas Naisi's death! and I the cause!\nNone came to aid that king, who well\nTo all the world might grant his laws.\n\n\n[FN#46]  Pronounced Eefa.\n\n[FN#47]  Pronounced Ska-ha.\n\n\nO man, who diggest low the grave,\nAnd from my sight my love would hide,\nMake wide the tomb; its room I crave,\nI come to seek my hero's side.\n\nGreat load of hardship I'd endure with joy,\nIf yet those heroes my companions were;\nNo lack of house or fire could then annoy,\nNo gloom I'd know with them, nor aught of care.\n\nAh! many a time each shield and guardian spear\nTo make my couch have piled those noble Three:\nO labouring man, their grave who diggest here,\nTheir hardened swords above well set should be.\n\nThe hounds of all the Three their masters lack,\nTheir hawks no quarry leave, nor hear their call;\nThe three are dead, who battle's line held back\nWho learned their skill in Conall Cernach's hall!\n\nTheir hounds I view; from out my heart that sight\nHath struck a groan; behind their leashes trail,\n'Twas mine to hold them once, and keep them tight;,\nNow slack they lie, and cause me thus to wail.\n\nOft in the desert I and they have strayed,\nYet never lonely was that desert known\nFor all the Three a grave to-day is made,\nAnd here I sit, and feel indeed alone.\n\nI gazed on Naisi's grave, and now am blind,\nFor naught remains to see; the worst is spent;\nMy soul must leave me soon, no help I find,\nAnd they are gone, the folk of my lament.\n\n'Twas guile that crushed them: they would save my life\nAnd died therefor; themselves three billows strong:\nEre Usna's children fell in cruel strife,\nWould I had died, and earth had held me long!\n\nTo Red-Branch Hall we made our mournful way;\nDeceitful Fergus led; our lives he stole;\nA soft sweet speech indeed he'd learned to say,\nFor me, for them was ruin near that goal.\n\nAll Ulster's pleasures now are nothing worth\nI shun them all, each chief, each ancient friend;\nAlone I sit, as left behind on earth,\nAnd soon my lonely life in death shall end.\n\nI am Deirdre, the joyless,\nFor short time alive,\nThough to end life be evil,\n'Tis worse to survive.\n\n\nAnd, after she had made this lament, Deirdre seated herself in the\ntomb, and she gave three kisses to Naisi before that he was laid in his\ngrave; and with heaviness and grief Cuchulain went on to Dun Delga.\nAnd Cathbad the Druid laid a curse upon Emain Macha to take vengeance\nfor that great evil, and he said that, since that treachery had been\ndone, neither king Conor nor any other of his race should hold that\nburg.\n\nAnd as for Fergus, the son of Rossa the Red, he came to Emain Macha on\nthe morrow after the sons of Usnach had been slain.  And, when he found\nthat they had been slain, and that his pledge had been dishonoured, he\nhimself, and Cormac the Partner of Exile, king Conor's own son, also\nDubhtach, the Beetle of Ulster, and the armies they had with them, gave\nbattle to the household of Conor; and they slew Maine the son of Conor,\nand three hundred of Conor's people besides.  And Emain Macha was\ndestroyed, and burned by them, and Conor's women were slain, and they\ncollected their adherents on every side; the number of their host was\nthree thousand warriors.  And they went away to the land of Connaught,\neven to Ailill the Great, who was the king of Connaught at that time,\nand to Maev of Croghan, and with them they found a welcome and support.\n Moreover Fergus and Cormac the Partner of Exile and their warriors,\nafter that they had come to the land of Connaught, never let pass one\nsingle night wherein reavers went not forth from them to harry and burn\nthe land of Ulster, so that the district which men to-day call the land\nof Cualgne was subdued by them; and from that in the after-time came\nbetween the two kingdoms much of trouble and theft; and in this fashion\nthey spent seven years, or, as some say, ten years; nor was there any\ntruce between them, no, not for one single hour.\n\nAnd while those deeds were doing, Deirdre abode by Conor in his\nhousehold for a whole year after the sons of Usnach had been slain.\nAnd, though it might have seemed but a small thing for her to raise her\nhead, or to let laughter flow over her lips, yet she never did these\nthings during all that time.  And when Conor saw that neither sport nor\nkindness could hold her; and that neither jesting nor pleasing honour\ncould raise her spirits, he sent word to Eogan the son of Durthacht,\nthe lord of Fernmay;[FN#48] as some tell the story, it was this Eogan\nwho had slain Naisi in Emain Macha.  And after that Eogan had come to\nthe place where Conor was, Conor gave command to Deirdre that, since he\nhimself had failed to turn her heart from her grief, she must depart to\nEogan, and spend another space of time with him.  And with that she was\nplaced behind Eogan in his chariot, and Conor went also in the chariot\nin order to deliver Deirdre into Eogan's hand.  And as they went on\ntheir way, she cast a fierce glance at Eogan in front of her, and\nanother at Conor behind her; for there was nothing in all the world\nthat she hated more than those two men.  And when Conor saw this, as he\nlooked at her and at Eogan, he said: \"Ah Deirdre! it is the glance of a\newe when set between two rams that thou castest on me and on Eogan!\"\nAnd when Deirdre heard that, she sprang up, and she made a leap out of\nthe chariot, and she struck her head against the stony rocks that were\nin front of her, and she shattered her head so that the brains leapt\nout, and thus came to Deirdre her death.\n\n\n[FN#48]  The Irish is Fernmag; written Fearnmhuidh in the late\nmanuscript of this part of the tale.\n\n\nThis is the Tree of their race, and an account of the kinships of some\nof the Champions of the Red Branch, which is given here before we\nproceed to speak of the Deeds of Cuchulain:\n\n\n'Twas Cathbad first won Magach's love, and arms around her threw;\nFrom Maelchro's loins, the Battle Chief, his princely source he drew;\nTwo, more in love she knew, of these the wrath was long and dread,\nFierce Rossa, named the Ruddy-Faced, and Carbre, thatched with red.\n\nTo all the three were children born, and all with beauty graced,\nTo Cathbad, and to Carbre Red, and Rossa Ruddy-faced;\nA gracious three indeed were they to whom she gave her love,\nFair Magach, brown the lashes were that slept her eyes above.\n\nThree sons to Rossa Ruddy-faced as children Magach bore;\nTo Carbre sons again she gave, the count of these was four;\nAnd three white shoots of grace were hers, on these no shame shall fall;\nTo Cathbad children three she bare, and these were daughters all.\n\nTo Cathbad, who in wizard lore and all its arts had might,\nThree daughters lovely Magach bore, each clothed in beauty white;\nAll maids who then for grace were famed in grace those maids surpassed,\nAnd Finuchoem,[FN#49] Ailbhe twain he named, and Deithchim named the\nlast.\n\n\n[FN#49]  Pronounced Finn-hoom, Ail-vy, and Die-himm.\n\n\nTo Finnchoem, wizard Cathbad's child, was born a glorious son,\nAnd well she nursed him, Conall wild, who every field hath won;\nAnd Ailbhe glorious children bare in whom no fear had place,\nThese Ardan, Ainnle, Naisi were, who came of Usnach's race.\n\nA son to Deithchim fair was born, a bright-cheeked mother she;\nShe bore but one: Cuchulain of Dun Delga's hold was he:\nOf those whom Cathbad's daughters reared the names full well ye know,\nAnd none of these a wound hath feared, or therefore shunned a foe.\n\nThe sons of Usnach, who like shields their friends protected well,\nBy might of hosts on battle-field to death were borne, and fell;\nAnd each was white of skin, and each his friends in love would hold,\nNow naught remains for song to teach, the Third of Griefs is told.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COMBAT AT THE FORD\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nThis version of the \"Combat at the Ford,\" the best-known episode of the\nIrish romance or romantic epic, the \"War of Cualnge,\" will hardly be,\nby Irish scholars, considered to want a reference.  It is given in the\nBook of Leinster, which cannot have been written later than 1150 A.D.,\nand differs in many respects from the version in the fourteenth-century\nBook of Lecan, which is, for the purposes of this text, at least equal\nin authority to the Leabbar na h-Uidhri, which must have been written\nbefore 1100 A.D.  Mr. Alfred Nutt has kindly contributed a note on the\ncomparison of the two versions, which has been placed as a special note\nat the end of the translation of the \"Combat.\"  To this note may be\nadded the remark that the whole of the Leabhar na h-Uidhri version of\nthe \"War of Cualnge\" seems, to be subject to the same criticisms that\nhave to be passed on the \"Sickbed\" and the \"Courtship of Etain\" in the\nsame volume, viz. that it is a compilation from two or three different\nversions of the same story, and is not a connected and consistent\nromance, which the version in the Book of Leinster appears to be.  As\nan illustration of this, the appearance of Conall Cernach as on the\nside of Connaught in the early part of the L.U. version may be\nmentioned; he is never so represented in other versions of the \"War.\"\nIn the description of the array of Ulster at the end of L.U., he is\nnoted as being expected to be with the Ulster army but as absent\n(following in this the Book of Leinster, but not a later manuscript\nwhich agrees with the Book of Leinster in the main); then at the end of\nthe L.U. version Conall again appears in the Connaught army and saves\nConor from Fergus, taking the place of Cormac in the Book of Leinster\nversion.  Miss Faraday, in her version of the \"War\" as given in L.U.,\nnotes the change of style at page 82 of her book.  Several difficulties\nsimilar to that of the position of Conall could be mentioned; and on\nthe whole it seems as if the compiler of the manuscript from which both\nthe Leabhar na h-Uidhri and the Yellow Book of Lecan were copied,\ncombined into one several different descriptions of the \"War,\" one of\nwhich is represented by the Book of Leinster version.\n\nThis version shows no signs of patchwork, at any rate in the story of\nthe \"Combat at the Ford;\" which has, ever since it was reintroduced to\nthe world by O'Curry, been renowned for the chivalry of its action.  It\nforms one of the books of Aubrey de Vere's \"Foray of Queen Meave,\" and\nis there well reproduced, although with several additions; perhaps\nsufficient attention has not. been paid to the lofty position of the\ncharacter, as distinguished from the prowess, that this version gives\nto Cuchulain.  The first verse, put in Cuchulain's mouth, strikes a new\nnote, contrasting alike with the muddle-headed bargaining of Ferdia and\nMaev, and the somewhat fussy anxiety of Fergus.  The contrast between\nthe way in which Cuchulain receives Fergus's report of the valour of\nFerdia, and that in which Ferdia receives the praises of Cuchulain from\nhis charioteer, is well worked out; Cuchulain, conscious of his own\nstrength, accepts all Fergus's praises of his opponent and adds to\nthem; Ferdia cannot bear to hear of Cuchulain's valour, and charges his\nservant with taking a bribe from his enemy in order to frighten him.\nFerdia boasts loudly of what he will do, Cuchulain apologises for his\nown confidence in the issue of the combat, and gently banters Fergus,\nwho is a bit of a boaster himself, on the care he had taken to choose\nthe time for the war when king Conor was away, with a modest\nimplication that he himself was a poor substitute for the king.\nCuchulain's first two stanzas in the opening dialogue between himself\nand Ferdia show a spirit quite as truculent as that of his opponent;\nthe reason of this being, as indicated in the first of these stanzas\nand more explicitly stated in the preceding prose, that his anxiety for\nhis country is outweighing his feeling for his friend; but in the third\nstanza he resumes the attitude of conscious strength that marks all his\nanswers to Fergus; and this, added to a feeling of pity for his\nfriend's inevitable fate, is maintained up to the end of the tale.  In\nthe fourth stanza, which is an answer to a most insulting speech from\nFerdia, he makes the first of those appeals to his former friend to\nabandon his purpose that come from him throughout the first three days\nof the fight; even in the fatal battle of the fourth day, he will not\nat first put forward all his strength, and only uses the irresistible\nGae-Bulg when driven to it by his foe.  The number of Cuchulain's\nlaments after the battle--there are five of these (one in prose),\nbesides his answers to Laeg--has been adversely criticised; and it is\njust possible that one or more of these come from some other version,\nand have been incorporated by a later hand than that of the author; but\nthe only one that seems to me not to develop the interest is the\n\"brooch of gold,\" which it may be noticed is very like the only lament\nwhich is preserved in the Book of Lecan text of the L.U. version.\nCuchulain's allusion to Aife's only son in the first verse lament is\nespecially noticeable (see note, p. 196).\n\nFerdia's character, although everywhere inferior to that of his victor,\nis also a heroic one; he is represented at the commencement of the\nepisode as undertaking the fight for fear of disgrace if he refused;\nand this does appear to be represented throughout as the true reason;\nhis early boasts and taunts are obviously intended to conquer a secret\nuneasiness, and the motif of a passion for Finnabar with which\nCuchulain charges him hardly appears outside Cuchulain's speeches, and\nhas not the importance given to it in the Leabhar na h-Uidhri version.\nThe motif of resentment against Cuchulain for a fancied insult,\ninvented by Maev, which is given in the L.U. version as the determining\ncause, does not appear in the Leinster version at all; and that of race\nenmity of the Firbolg against the Celt, given to him by Aubrey de Vere,\nis quite a modern idea and is in none of the old versions.  His\ndialogue with Maev suggests that, as stated in the text, he was then\nslightly intoxicated; his savage language to his servant gives the idea\nof a man who feels himself in the wrong and makes himself out to be\nworse than he is by attributing to himself the worst motives, the hope\nof pay; but as the battle proceeds he shows himself equal to Cuchulain\nin generosity, and in the dialogue at the beginning of the third day's\nfight his higher character comes out, for while his old boastfulness\nappears in one passage of it, and is immediately repressed, the\nlanguage of both heroes in this dialogue is noticeable for a true\nspirit of chivalry.  The mutual compliments, \"thy kingly might,\" \"fair\ngraceful Hound\" \"gently ruling Hound\" recall the French \"Beausire\"; it\nmay be also noted that these compliments are paid even when Ferdia is\nprotesting against Cuchulain's reproaches; similar language is used\nelsewhere, as \"much thine arms excel\" (page 122), and \"Cuchulain for\nbeautiful feats renowned\" (page 134).  It may be considered that these\npassages are an indication that the episode is late, but it should be\nnoticed that the very latest date that can possibly be assigned to it,\nthe eleventh century, precedes that of all other known romances of\nchivalry by at least a hundred years.  To this later attitude of\nFerdia, and to that maintained by Cuchulain throughout the whole\nepisode, nothing in French or Welsh romance of approximately so early a\ndate can be compared.  Is it not possible that the chivalric tone of\nthe later Welsh romances, like the \"Lady of the Fountain,\" which is\ngenerally supposed to have come from France, really came from an Irish\nmodel? and that this tone, together with the Arthurian Saga, passed to\nthe Continent?\n\nA great contrast to both the two heroes is afforded by the introduction\nof Laeg with his cries of exultation, which come between the dying\ngroans of Ferdia and the fine prose lament of Cuchulain, increasing the\neffect of both.  Laeg seems quite unable to see his master's point of\nview, and he serves as a foil for Ferdia, just as the latter's\ninferiority increases the character of Cuchulain.  The consistency of\nthe whole, and the way in which our sympathy is awakened for Ferdia\ncontrast with the somewhat disconnected character of the L.U. version,\nwhich as it stands gives a poor idea of the defeated champion;\nalthough, as Mr. Nutt suggests, the lost part may have improved this\nidea, and the version has beauties of its own.\n\nFor the convenience of those readers who may be unacquainted with the\nstory of the war, the following short introduction is given:--\n\nAt a time given by the oldest Irish annalists as A.D. 29, the War of\nCualnge was undertaken by Maev, queen of Connaught, against the kingdom\nor province of Ulster.  Gathering together men from all the other four\nprovinces of Ireland, Maev marched against Ulster, the leaders of her\narmy being herself, her husband Ailill, and Fergus the son of Rog, an\nexile from Ulster, and formerly, according to one account, king of that\nprovince.  Not only had Maev great superiority in force, but the time\nshe Ed chosen for the war was when Conor, king of Ulster, and with him\nnearly all his principal warriors, were on their sick-bed in accordance\nwith a curse that had fallen on them in return for a cruel deed that he\nand his people had done.  One hero however, Cuchulain, the greatest of\nthe Ulster heroes, was unaffected by this curse; and he, with only a\nfew followers, but with supernatural aid from demi-gods of whose race\nhe came, had caused much loss to the queen and her army, so that Maev\nfinally made this compact: she was each day to provide a champion to\noppose Cuchulain, and was to be permitted to advance so long as that\ncombat lasted; if her champion was killed, she was to halt her army\nuntil the next morning.  Before the Combat at the Ford between\nCuchulain and Ferdia, Cuchulain had killed many of Maev's champions in\nduel, and the epic romance of the \"War of Cualnge\" gives the full story\nof these combats and of the end of the war.  The episode given in the\nfollowing pages commences at the camp of Queen Maev, where her chiefs\nare discussing who is to be their champion against Cuchulain on the\nfollowing day.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COMBAT AT THE FORD\n\n\n\nAN EPISODE OF THE CATTLE SPOIL OF CUALNGE IN THE BOOK OF LEINSTER\nVERSION\n\n\nAt that time debate was held among the men of Ireland who should be the\nman to go early in the morning of the following day to make combat and\nfight with Cuchulain.  And all agreed that Ferdia, the son of Daman,\nthe son of Dire, was the man who should go; even the great and valiant\nchampion of the men of Irross Donnand, for the manner in which he\nfought and did battle was like to the manner of Cuchulain.  They had\ngot their skill in arms, and valour, and bravery from the same\nteachers, from Scathach, from Uathach, and from Aife[FN#50]; nor had\neither of them advantage over the other except that Cuchulain alone\ncould perform the feat of the Gae-bulg.  Yet Ferdia was fenced by a\nhorny skin-protecting armour, and this should guard him when he faced a\nhero in battle and combat at the Ford.  So to Ferdia were sent\nmessengers and heralds; but Ferdia denied the heralds, and he refused\nto depart with them, for well he knew why it was he was called; even to\nfight against his own friend, his comrade and fellow-pupil Cuchulain;\nand for that cause he came not with the heralds who were sent.\n\n\n[FN#50]  Pronounced Scaha, Ooha, and Eefa: Scaha and Ooha end with a\nslight guttural like the ch in the Scotch lock, difficult to express in\nEnglish.\n\n\nAnd then did Maev send to Ferdia Druids, and satirists and revilers, in\norder that against him should be made three crushing reproaches, and\nthree satires; that the stains of shame, and of blemish, and of\ndisgrace should be raised on his face; so that even if he died not at\nonce, death should be his within the space of nine days if he went with\nthem not.  And for the sake of his honour, Ferdia came at their call;\nfor to him it was better to fall before the shafts of valour, of\nbravery, and of daring than by the stings of satire, of abuse, and of\nreproach.  And he, when he arrived, was received with all worship and\nservice, and was served with pleasant, sweet intoxicating liquor, so\nthat his brain reeled, and he became gently merry.  And these were the\ngreat rewards that were promised to him if he consented to make that\ncombat and fight: a chariot of the value of four times seven cumals,\nand the equipment of twelve men with garments of all colours, and the\nlength and breadth of his own territory on the choice part of the\nplains of Maw Ay; free of tribute, without purchase, free from the\nincidents of attendance at courts and of military service, that therein\nhis son, and his grandson, and all his descendants might dwell in\nsafety to the end of life and time; also Finnabar the daughter of Maev\nas his wedded wife, and the golden brooch which was in the cloak of\nQueen Maev in addition to all this.  And thus ran the speech of Maev,\nand she spake these words, and thus did Ferdia reply:\n\n\nMaev\n\nOf rings great treasure sending,[FN#51]\nWide plains and woodlands bending\nI grant: till time hath ending\nI free thy tribe and kin.\nO thou who oft o'ercamest!\n'Tis thine what gift thou namest!\nWhy hold'st thou back, nor claimest\nA boon that all would win?\n\n\n[FN#51]  The metre of this dialogue and rhyme-system are taken from the\nIrish but one syllable has been added to each line. The exact Irish\nmetre is that given on page 129.\n\n\nFerdia\n\nA bond must hold thee tightly,\nNo force I lend thee lightly;\nDread strife 'twill be; for rightly\nHe bears that name of \"Hound.\"\nFor sharp spear-combat breaketh\nThat morn; hard toil it waketh\nThe war Cuchulain maketh\nShall fearless war be found.\n\n\nMaev\n\nOur chiefs, with oaths the gravest,\nShall give the pledge thou cravest;\nFor thee, of all men bravest,\nBrave bridled steeds shall stand.\nFrom tax my word hath freed thee,\nTo hostings none shall lead thee,\nAs bosom friend I need thee,\nAs first in all the land.\n\n\nFerdia\n\nMere words are naught availing\nIf oaths to bind be failing;\nThat wondrous Ford-Fight hailing,\nAll time its tale shall greet:\nThough sun, moon, sea for ever\nAnd earth from me I sever;\nThough death I win--yet never,\nUnpledged, that war I'll meet.\n\n\nMaev\n\nThese kings and chiefs behind me\nTheir oaths shall pledge to bind me:\nWith boundless wealth thou'lt find me,\nWith wealth too great to pay.\n'Tis thou who oaths delayest;\n'Tis done whate'er thou sayest;\nFor well I know thou slayest\nThe foe who comes to slay.\n\n\nFerdia\n\nEre thou to slaughter lure me,\nSix champions' oaths procure me;\nTill these rewards assure me\nI meet, for thee, no foe:\nIf six thou grant as gages,\nI'll face the war he wages,\nAnd where Cuchulain rages,\nA lesser chief, I go.\n\n\nMaev\n\nIn chariots Donnal raceth,\nFierce strife wild Neeman faceth,\nTheir halls the bards' song graceth,\nYet these in troth I bind.\nFirm pledge Morand is making,\nNone Carpri Min knew breaking\nHis troth: thine oath he's taking;\nTwo sons to pledge I find.\n\n\nFerdia\n\nMuch poison, Maev, inflameth\nThy heart; no smile thee tameth\nBut well the land thee nameth\nProud queen of Croghan's hold;\nThy power no man can measure;\n'Tis I will do thy pleasure;\nNow send thy silken treasure,\nThy silver gifts, and gold.\n\n\nMaev\n\nThis brooch, as champion's token,\nI give of troth unbroken;\nAll words my lips have spoken\nPerformed shall Sunday see.\nThou glorious chief, who darest\nThis fight, I give thee rarest\nOf gifts on earth, and fairest,\nYea greater meed shall be.\nFor Findabar my daughter;\nAll Elgga's chiefs have sought her;\nWhen thou that Hound shalt slaughter,\nI give in love to thee.\n\n\nAnd then did Maev bind Ferdia in an easy task; that on the next day he\nwas to come to combat and fight with six of her champions, or to make\nduel against Cuchulain; whichever of the two he should think the\neasier.  And Ferdia on his side bound her by a condition that seemed to\nhim easy for her to fulfil: even that she should lay it upon those same\nsix champions to see to it that all those things she had promised to\nhim should be fulfilled, in case Cuchulain should meet death at\nFerdia's hand.\n\nThereupon Fergus caused men to harness for him his horses, and his\nchariot was yoked, and he went to that place where Cuchulain was that\nhe might tell him what had passed, and Cuchulain bade him welcome.  I\nam rejoiced at your coming, O my good friend Fergus,\" said Cuchulain.\nAnd I gladly accept thy welcome, O my pupil,\" said Fergus.  But I have\nnow come hither in order to tell thee who that man is who comes to\ncombat and fight with thee early on the morning of the day which is at\nhand.\"  \"We shall give all heed to thy words,\" said Cuchulain.  \"'Tis\nthine own friend,\" said Fergus, \"thy companion, and thy fellow pupil;\nthine equal in feats and in deeds and in valour: even Ferdia, the son\nof Daman, the son of Dare, the great and valiant champion of the men of\nIrross Donnan.\"  \"Truly,\" said Cuchulain, \"I make mine oath to thee\nthat I am sorry that my friend should come to such a duel.\"\n\"Therefore,\" said Fergus, \"it behoves thee to be wary and prepared, for\nunlike to all those men who have come to combat and fight with thee\nupon the Tain be Cuailgne is Ferdia, the son of Daman, the son of\nDare.\"  \"I have stood here,\" said Cuchulain, \"detaining and delaying\nthe men of the four great provinces of Ireland since the first Monday\nin Samhain (November) till the beginning of the spring, and not one\nfoot have I gone back before any one man during all that time, nor\nshall I, as I trust, yield before him.\"  And in this manner did Fergus\ncontinue to put him on his guard, and these were the words that he\nspoke, and thus did Cuchulain reply:\n\n\nFergus\n\nRise, Cuchulain! foes are near,[FN#52]\nAll their covenant is clear;\nDaman's ruddy son in rage\nComes the war with thee to wage.\n\n\n[FN#52]  The metre is that of the Irish; a literal rendering of the\nwhole dialogue is given in the notes, p. 191.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nHere I stand, whose valiant toil\nErin's bands held back from spoil;\nNever a foot of ground they won,\nNever a foe they found me shun.\n\n\nFergus\n\nFierce is he in rage; his trust\nIn his blade's deep searching thrust:\nPlates of horn protect his side,\nPierced by none his strength who tried.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nFergus, much thine arms excel;\nCease, this tale no longer tell\nLand is none, nor battle-field\nWhere to his my strength must yield.\n\n\nFergus\n\nHe is fierce, with scores can fight,\nSpear nor sword can on him bite;\nFrom that strength, a hundred's match,\nHard 'twill be the prize to snatch.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nYea! Ferdia's power I know;\nHow from foughten field we go;\nHow was fought our piercing war,\nBards shall tell to ages far.\n\n\nFergus\n\nLoss of much I'd little mourn\nCould I hear how, eastward borne,\nGreat Cuchulain's bloody blade\nProud Ferdia's spoils displayed.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nThough in boasts I count me weak,\nHear me now as braggart speak:\nDaman's son, of Darry's race,\nSoon shall I, his victor, face.\n\n\nFergus\n\nBrought by me, hosts eastward came,\nUlster sought to hurt my fame;\nHere have come, to ease my grief,\nMany a champion, many a chief.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nSickness Conor's might withheld,\nElse his sight thy host had quelled;\nLess the shouts of joy had been,\nRaised by Maev, Maw Scayl's high queen.\n\n\nFergus\n\nGreater deeds than done by me\nO Cuchulain! thine shall be:\nDaman's son thy battle nears;\nHear thy friend! keep hard thy spears.\n\n\nThen Fergus returned to where the army was encamped: Ferdia, also went\nfrom Maev and came to his own tent; and there he found his followers,\nand he told them how he had been bound to Maev as in an easy task, that\nhe was on the morrow to combat and fight with six of her champions, or\nto make duel with Cuchulain, whichever of the two he might think the\neasier.  Also he told them how she had been bound by a condition that\nwas easy for her to grant: that she should lay it on these same six\nchampions to see that her promises to him of rewards should be\nfulfilled in case Cuchulain met his death at Ferdia's hand.\n\nThere was no cheerfulness, or happiness, or even melancholy pleasure\namong the inmates of Ferdia's camp that night: they were all cheerless,\nand sorrowful, and low in spirit; for they knew that whenever those two\nchampions, those two slayers of hundreds met, one of the two must fall\nin that place, or that both of them should fall: and if one only was to\nfall they were sure that that one would be their own master; for it was\nnot easy for any man to combat and fight with Cuchulain on the Tain bo\nCuailnge.\n\nNow the first part of that night Ferdia slept very heavily, and when\nthe middle of the night had come his sleep had left him, and the\ndizziness of his brain has passed away, and care for the combat and the\nfight pressed heavily upon him.  Then he called for his charioteer to\nharness his horses, and to yoke his chariot; and the charioteer began\nto rebuke him, if haply he might turn him from his purpose.  \"It would\nbe better for thee to stay!\" said the charioteer.  \"Be thou silent, O\nmy servant!\" said Ferdia, and he then spoke the words that follow, and\nthus did his servant reply to him:--\n\n\nFerdia\n\n'Tis a challenge provoking\nTo war, and I go\nWhere the ravens' hoarse croaking\nShall rise for my foe:\nWith Cuchulain still seeking\nThe strife at yon ford;\nTill his strong body, reeking,\nBe pierced by my sword!\n\n\nServant\n\nNay, thy threats show no meekness;\nYet here thou should'st stay;\nFor on thee shall come weakness,\nWoe waits on thy way:\nFor by Ulster's Rock broken\nThis battle may be,\nAnd it long shall be spoken\nHow ill 'twas to thee.\n\n\nFerdia\n\nAn ill word art thou saying;\nIt fits not our race\nThat a champion, delaying\nFrom fight, should thee grace.\nThen thy speech, my friend, fetter,\nNo foe will we fear;\nBut, since valour is better,\nHis challenge we near.\n\n\nThen Ferdia's horses were harnessed for him, and his chariot was yoked,\nand he came forward to the ford of battle; but when he had come there\nhe found that the full light of the day had not yet dawned, and \"O my\nservant!\" said Ferdia, \"spread out for me the cushions and skins that\nare upon my chariot, that I may rest upon them till I take the deep\nrepose of refreshing sleep, for during the latter part of this night\nhave I taken no rest, on account of the care that I had for this combat\nand fight.\"  And the servant unharnessed his horses, and he placed\ntogether the cushions and the skins that were upon the chariot, so that\nFerdia might rest upon them, and he sank into the deep repose of\nrefreshing sleep.\n\nNow in this place I will tell of the acts of Cuchulain.  He rose not at\nall from his couch until the full light of the day; and this he did in\norder that the men of Ireland should not be able to say that it was\nfrom fear or from dread that he rose, if it had been early that he had\narisen.  And when the full daylight had come, he commanded his\ncharioteer to harness for him his horses, and to yoke his chariot: \"O\nmy servant!\" said Cuchulain, \"harness for us our horses, and put the\nyoke to our chariot, for early rises the champion who cometh to meet us\nthis day: even Ferdia, the son of Daman, the son of Dare.\"  \"The horses\nare harnessed,\" said the charioteer, \"and the chariot is yoked; step\nthou into it, for it will bring no shame on thy valour.\"  Then did\nCuchulain, the fighter of battles, the skilful in feats, the winner of\nvictory, that red-sworded hero, the son of Sualtam, leap into his\nchariot.  All around him screamed the Bocanachs, and the Bananachs, and\nthe wild people of the glens, and the demons of the air; for it was the\ncustom of the people of the wizard race of Danu to raise their cries\nabout him in every battle, on every stricken field, in every duel, and\nin every fight to which he went, that thereby in such fight the hatred,\nand the fear, and the avoidance, and the terror that men felt for him\nshould be increased.  In no short time the charioteer of Ferdia heard\nthe roar of Cuchulain's approach; the clamour, and the hissing, and the\ntramp; and the thunder, and the clatter, and the buzz: for he heard the\nshields that were used as missiles clank together as they touched; and\nhe heard the spears hiss, and the swords clash, and the helmet tinkle,\nand the armour ring; and the arms sawed one against the other, and the\njavelins swung, and the ropes strained, and the wheels of the chariot\nclattered, and the chariot creaked, and the hoofs of the horses\ntrampled on the ground as that warrior and champion came forward in\ntriumph to the ford, and approached him.\n\nThen that servant of Ferdia arose, and he placed his hand upon his\nlord: \"Arise now, O Ferdia!\" said the servant, \"for here they come\ntowards thee, even to the Ford;\" and this was the speech of the driver\nof the chariot of Ferdia as he stood before him:\n\n\nLo! a chariot yoked with silver, creaking loud, draws nigh;[FN#53]\nO'er the chariot-wheels a man his perfect form rears high:\nThe warlike car\nRolls on from far\nBraeg Ross, from Braina's bounds;\nPast that burg they ride whose wooded side the roadway rounds;\nFor its triumphs high in triumph cry its song resounds.\n\n\n[FN#53]  For a literal translation of the above poem and another\nrendering, see the notes.\n\n\nUrged by hero-Hound, and yoked by charioteer's hand true,\nFlies the war-car southward ever; nobler hawk ne'er flew\nThan he who speeds\nHis rushing steeds,\nThat chief of stubborn might;\nSoon the blood to flow from slaughtered foe shall meet his sight;\nSure for us 'tis ill, for soon with skill he gives us fight.\n\nWoe to him who here on hillock stands, that Hound to wait;\nEmain Macha's perfect Hound is he, foretold by fate:\nLast year I cried\nThat him I spied\nWho guards his land from foe:\nThat battle-Hound, on whom are found all hues to glow:\n'Twas then from far I heard that car: its sound I know.\n\n\n\"O my servant!\" said Ferdia, \"wherefore is it: that thou hast continued\nin thy praise of this man ever since the time that I left my tent?\nsurely it must be a reward that thou seekest at his hand, so greatly\ndost thou extol him; yet Ailill and Maev have foretold that it is by me\nhe shall fall.  Certain it is that for sake of the fee I shall gain he\nshall be slain quickly; and 'tis full time that the relief that we wait\nfor should come.\"  Thus then it was that in that place he spoke these\nwords, and thus did his servant reply:\n\n\nFerdia\n\n'Tis time that I grant my assistance!\nBe still: let thy praise of him sink:\nPeer not, like a seer, at the distance;\nWilt fail me on battle-field's brink?\nThough Cualgne's proud champion, displaying\nHis gambols and pride thou dost see;\nFull soon shalt thou witness his slaying\nFor price to be paid down to me.\n\n\nServant\n\nIf he who this glory is showing\nBe champion of Cualgne indeed;\n'Tis not in retreat he is going;\nTo meet us he cometh with speed:\nHe comes, nor 'tis slowly he blunders,\nLike wind his swift journey he makes;\nAs stream, from the cliff-top that thunders;\nAs bolt, from the storm-cloud that breaks.\n\n\nFerdia\n\n'Tis pay at his hand thou hast taken,\nSo loudly resoundeth thy praise;\nElse why, since our tent was forsaken,\nHast sung with such frequence thy lays?\nMen, like thou, who, when foes are appearing,\nWould to chant the foe's praises begin,\nWill attack not, when battle is nearing,\nBut the name of base cowards shall win.\n\n\nNow the charioteer of Ferdia was not long in that place before he saw a\nmarvellous sight; for before his eyes came the beautiful five-pointed,\nfour-peaked chariot, skilfully driven with swiftness and power.  A\ncanopy of green overspread it; thin and well-seasoned was the body of\nit; lofty and long were the spears that adorned it; well was it\nfashioned for war.  Under the yokes of that chariot sped forward with\ngreat bounds two great-eared, savage, and prancing steeds; bellies had\nthey like whales, broad were their chests, and quick-panting their\nhearts; their flanks were high, and their hoofs wide; their pasterns\nfine, their loins broad, and their spirits untamable.  The horse under\none of the yokes was grey, with a long mane and with broad hind\nquarters; swiftly he galloped, and his leaps were great; the horse\nbeneath the other yoke was black, his mane was in tufts, his back was\nbroad, and eager was his pace.  As a hawk, on a day when the wind\nbloweth hard, darts up from the furrow; as the gusts of the wind in\nspring sweep forward over a smooth plain upon a day in March; swift as\na going stag at the beginning of the chase, after he hath been roused\nby the cry of the hounds; such was the pace of the two steeds that bore\nforward Cuchulain and his chariot, touching upon the soil as rapidly as\nif the stones that they trod on were hot with the fire, so that the\nwhole earth trembled and shook at the violence of their going.  And\nCuchulain reached the ford, and Ferdia awaited him on the south side of\nit, and Cuchulain halted his horses upon the north.\n\nThen did Ferdia bid welcome to Cuchulain: \"O Cuchulain!\" said Ferdia, I\nrejoice to see thine approach.\"  \"Thy welcome would have been received\nby me upon an earlier day,\" said Cuchulain, \"but this day I cannot\nreceive it as one from a friend.  And Ferdia,\" said he, \"it were more\nsuitable that it was I who bade welcome to thee rather than that thou\nshouldest welcome me; for out in flight before thee are my women, and\nmy children; my youths, and my steeds, and my mares; my flocks, and my\nherds, and my cattle.\"  \"Ah, Cuchulain!\" said Ferdia, \"how hast thou\nbeen persuaded to come to this fight and this battle at all? For when\nwe were with Scathach, with Uathach, and with Aife, thou wert mine\nattendant; thine was the office to whet my spears, and to make ready my\ncouch.\"  \"'Tis true indeed,\" said Cuchulain, \"but it was then as thy\nyounger in years and in standing that it was my custom to perform this\noffice for thee; and that is not my quality to-day; for now there is\nnot in all the world any champion with whom I would refuse to fight.\"\nAnd then each of them reproached the other bitterly with breach of\nfriendship, and there Ferdia spoke the words which here follow, and\nthus did Cuchulain reply:\n\n\nFerdia\n\nHound! why hither faring,[FN#54]\nStrife with strong ones daring?\nAs if home were flaring,\nWoe shall come on thee!\nBlood from out thee draining\nShall thy steeds be staining;\nThou, thy home if gaining,\nWounded sore shalt be.\n\n\n[FN#54]  The metre is that of the Irish.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nHot with indignation,\nTake I battle-station,\nFace yon warrior nation,\nRound their warlike king:\nThey shall see me meet thee,\nCount the strifes that greet thee,\nWatch, as down I beat thee,\nDrowning, suffering.\n\n\nFerdia\n\nHere is one to shame thee;\nHow 'twas I o'ercame thee,\nThey who champion name thee\nLong the tale shall tell.\nUlster, near thee lying,\nSoon shall see thee dying;\nAll shall say, with sighing,\nTheirs the chief who fell.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nThine shall be the choosing;\nSay, what warfare using\nHosts shall see thee losing\nAt the Ford this fight?\nSwords dost choose, hard-clashing\nCars, in conflict crashing?\nSpears, thy life-blood splashing?\n'Tis thy death in sight.\n\n\nFerdia\n\nEre the twilight gleameth,\nRed thy life-blood streameth:\nSmall thy stature seemeth,\nLike a cliff thy foe.\nUlster's hosts who prated,\nAnd thy pride inflated;\nThrough them feel thy hated\nSpectre sadly go.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nDown a chasm appalling\nThou to death art falling;\nOne thy foe: yet galling\nWeapons press thee sore.\nProud thou wert but lately,\nStrife shall change thee greatly,\nThee as champion stately\nEarth shall know no more.\n\n\nFerdia\n\nCease this endless vaunting,\nSpeech for ever flaunting,\nThou a chief! a taunting,\nGiggling child thou art.\nNone would pay, or fee thee,\nI as coward see thee;\nStrength hast none to free thee,\nCaged bird! quaking heart!\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nAh! in bygone story\nWe, as peers in glory,\nSports and combats gory\nShared when Scaha taught:\nThou, of all who nearest\nTo my soul appearest!\nClansman! kinsman dearest!\nWoe thy fate hath brought!\n\n\nFerdia\n\nNaught this strife avails thee,\nGlory fades, and fails thee;\nCock-crow loudly hails thee,\nHigh on stake thy head!\nCualgne's[FN#55] Hound, Cuchulain!\nFaults thy soul bear rule in:\nThee to bitter schooling\nFrantic grief hath led.\n\n\n[FN#55]  Pronounced Kell-ny.\n\n\"O my friend Ferdia!\" said Cuchulain, \"it was not right for thee to\nhave come to the combat and the fight with me, at the instigation and\nthe meddling of Ailill and Maev: none of those who came before thee\nhave gained for themselves victory or success, and they all fell at my\nhand; neither shalt thou win victory or success from this battle, by me\nshalt thou fall.\"  And it was in this manner that he was speaking, and\nhe recited these words, and Ferdia hearkened to him:\n\n\nCome not near, thou powerful man![FN#56]\nO Ferdia mac Daman:\nWorst of woe on thee is hurled,\nThough thy fate shall grieve the world.\n\n\n[FN#56]  The metre is that of the Irish.\n\n\nCome not near, nor right forget\nIn my hand thy fate is set:\nThose recall, whom late I fought,\nHath their fall no wisdom taught?\n\nThou for gifts wert passed in sale,\nPurple sash, firm coat of mail;\nNever maid, O Daman's son!\nIn this war of thine is won.\n\nFindabar, Maev's lovely child,\nWith her form thy sense beguiled:\nBrightly though her beauty glows,\nShe no love on thee bestows.\n\nWouldst thou win the prize they bring,\nFindabar, the child of king?\nMany ere now that maid could cheat\nHere, like thee, their wounds to meet.\n\nThou hast sworn, and plighted. troth,\nNe'er to fight me: keep thine oath:\nFriendship's tie thee firm should hold,\nCome not nigh me, champion bold.\n\nFifty chiefs, who sought that maid,\nFought me, fell, in earth are laid;\nWell I know that tempting bait,\nAll have found, and earned their fate.\n\nFerbay fell, though bold his boast,\nHim obeyed a valiant host;\nQuickly here his rage I stilled;\nCast my spear but once, and killed.\n\nCruel fate Srub Darry slew,\nTales of hundred dames he knew;\nGreat his fame in days of yore;\nSilver none, 'twas gold he wore.\n\nThough that maid, whom Erin's best\nHope to gain, my heart would charm;\nSouth and north, and east and west\nI would keep thee safe from harm.\n\n\n\"And, O my friend Ferdia!\" said Cuchulain \"this is the cause why it was\nnot thy part to come here to the combat and the fight with me.  It is\nbecause that when with Scathach, with Uathach, and with Aife we abode,\nit was the custom with us that together we should go to every battle,\nand to every field of battle; to every fight and to every skirmish; to\nevery forest and to all wildernesses; to all things dark and\ndifficult.\"  These were the words of his speech, and it was in that\nplace that he recited these staves:\n\n\nTuned our hearts were beating,\nWe, where chiefs were meeting,\nBrotherly went: when slumbering\nOne was our couch: we sought\nFierce fights, and fought.\nOft in woods that are far away\nJoined we stood in our skilful play;\nScathach our feats had taught.\n\n\nAnd Ferdia replied to him thus:\n\n\nO Cuchulain! for beautiful feats renowned,\nThough together we learned our skill;\nThough thou tellest of friendship that once we found,\nFrom me shall come first thine ill;\nAh, recall not the time of our friendship's day:\nIt shall profit thee nothing, O Hound, I say.\n\n\n\"For too long now have we thus waited,\" said Ferdia; \"tell me now O\nCuchulain! to what weapons shall we resort?\"  \"Thou hast the choice of\nthe weapons till the night,\" said Cuchulain, \"because thou wert the\nfirst to reach the Ford.\"  \"Hast thou any remembrance,\" said Ferdia,\n\"of the weapons for casting, that we were accustomed to practise the\nuse of when we were with Scathach, with Uathach, and with Aife?\"  \"I do\nindeed remember them,\" said Cuchulain.\"  \"If thou rememberest them, let\nus resort to them now,\" said Ferdia.  Then they resorted to their\nweapons used for the casting.  They took up two shields for defence,\nwith devices emblazoned upon them, and their eight shields with sharp\nedges such that they could hurl, and their eight javelins, and their\neight ivory-hilted dirks, and their eight little darts for the fight.\nTo and fro from one to the other, like bees upon a sunny day, flew the\nweapons, and there was no cast that they threw that did not hit.  Each\nof them then continued to shoot at the other with their weapons for\ncasting, from the dawn of the morning to the full middle of the day,\nuntil all of their weapons had been blunted against the faces and the\nbosses of their shields; and although their casting was most excellent,\nyet so good was the defence that neither of them wounded the other nor\ndrew the other's blood during all that time.  \"Cease now from these\nfeats, O Cuchulain!\" said Ferdia, \"for it is not by means of these that\nthe struggle between us shall come.\"  \"Let us cease indeed,\" said\nCuchulain, \"if the time for ceasing hath arrived.\"  And they ceased\nfrom their casting, and they threw the weapons they had used for it\ninto the hands of their charioteers.\n\n\"To what weapons shall we next resort, O Cuchulain?\" said Ferdia.\n\n\"Thou hast the choice of weapons until the night,\" said Cuchulain,\n\"because thou wert the first to reach the Ford.\"  \"Then,\" said Ferdia,\n\"let us turn to our straight, well-trimmed, hard, and polished\ncasting-spears with tough cords of flax upon them.\"  \"Let us do so\nindeed,\" said Cuchulain.  Then they took two stout shields of defence,\nand they turned to their straight, well-trimmed, hard, and polished\ncasting-spears with the tough cords of flax upon them, and each of them\ncontinued to hurl his spears at the other from the middle of midday\nuntil the ninth hour of the evening: and though the defence was most\nexcellent that each of them made, yet so good was the casting of the\nspears that each of them wounded the other at that time, and drew red\nblood from him.  \"Let us desist from this now, O Cuchulain!\" said\nFerdia. \"Let us desist indeed,\" said Cuchulain, \"if the time has come.\"\n\nThey ceased, and they threw away their weapons into their charioteers'\nhands; and each of them at the end of that fight sought the other, and\neach threw his arms about the other's neck, and gave him three kisses.\nTheir horses were in the same paddock that night, the men who had\ndriven their chariots sat by the same fire, moreover the charioteers of\nboth those warriors spread couches of fresh rushes for the two, and\nsupplied them with such pillows as are needed by wounded men.  And such\nfolk as can heal and cure came to heal and to cure them, and they\napplied soothing and salving herbs and plants to their bruises, and\ntheir cuts, and their gashes, and to all their many wounds.  And of\nevery soothing and salving herb and plant that was brought for the\nbruises, the cuts, and the gashes, and all the wounds of Cuchulain, he\nused to send an equal portion westward across the ford to Ferdia, so\nthat in case Ferdia fell at his hand the men of Ireland should not be\nable to say that it was owing to superiority in leech-craft that he had\ndone it.  And of each kind of food, and of pleasant, palatable,\nintoxicating drink that the men of Ireland brought to Ferdia, he would\nsend a fair half northward across the ford to Cuchulain; for the men\nwho provided food for Ferdia were more in number than they who provided\nfood for Cuchulain.  All the army of the men of Ireland helped to\nprovide Ferdia with food, because he was their champion to defend them\nagainst Cuchulain; yet to Cuchulain also food was brought by the people\nwho dwell in the Breg.  And it was the custom with these that they came\nto converse with him at the dusk of each night.\n\nThus they remained that night, but early in the morning they arose, and\nrepaired to the Ford of Combat.  \"What weapons shall we turn to to-day,\nO Ferdia?\" said Cuchulain.  \"Thou hast the choice of weapons until the\nnight,\" answered Ferdia, \"because it is I who had my choice of them in\nthe day that is past.\"  \"Let us then,\" said Cuchulain, \"resort to our\ngreat, broad-bladed, heavy spears this day, for nearer shall we be to\nour battle by the thrusting of our spears this day than we were by the\nthrowing weapons of yesterday: let our horses be harnessed for us, and\nour chariots yoked, that upon this day from our chariots and our horses\nwe may fight.\"  \"Let us turn to these indeed,\" said Ferdia.  They then\ntook to them two exceedingly stout, broad shields, and they resorted to\ntheir great, broad-bladed, heavy spears that day.  And each of them\ncontinued to thrust at, and to pierce through, and to redden, and to\ntear the body of the other from the dawn of the morning until the ninth\nhour of the evening; and if it were the custom for birds in their\nflight to pass through the bodies of men, they could have passed\nthrough the bodies of those warriors that day, carrying with them\npieces of their flesh from their wounds into the clouds and to the sky\naround them.  So when the ninth hour of the evening was come, the\nhorses were weary, and the charioteers were weak; and they themselves,\nchampions and heroes of valour as they were, had themselves become\nweary; and \"Let us cease now from this, O Ferdia!\" said Cuchulain, \"for\nour horses are weary, and our charioteers are weak; and now that these\nare weary, why should not we be weary too?\" and then it was that he\nsang this stave:\n\n\nNot like Fomorians, men of the sea,\nStubborn, unending our struggle should be;\nNow that the clamour of combat must cease,\nQuarrels forget, and between us be peace.\n\n\nLet us cease now indeed,\" said Ferdia, \"if the time for it hath come.\"\nThey ceased, and they threw away their weapons into their charioteers'\nhands, and each of them at the end of that fight sought the other, and\neach threw his arms about the other's neck, and gave him three kisses.\nTheir horses were in the same paddock that night, the men who had\ndriven their chariots sat by the same fire, moreover the charioteers of\nboth those warriors spread couches of fresh rushes for the two, and\nsupplied them with such pillows as are needed by wounded men.  And such\nfolk as can heal and cure came to examine into their wounds and to tend\nthem that night, for they could do nothing more for them, so severe and\nso deadly were the stabs and the thrusts, and the gashes of the many\nwounds that they had, than to apply to them spells and incantations and\ncharms, in order to staunch their blood, and their bleeding mortal\nwounds.  And for every spell and incantation and charm that was applied\nto the stabs and the wounds of Cuchulain, he sent a full half westward\nacross the ford to Ferdia; and of each kind of food, and of pleasant,\npalatable, intoxicating drink that the men of Ireland brought to\nFerdia, he sent a half across the ford to Cuchulain, in the north.  For\nthe men who brought food to Ferdia were more in number than they who\nbrought food to Cuchulain, for all the army of the men of Ireland\nhelped to provide Ferdia with food, because he was their champion to\ndefend them against Cuchulain; yet to Cuchulain also food was brought\nby the people who dwell in the Breg.  And it was the custom with these\nthat they came to converse with him at the dusk of each night.\n\nThus they rested that night: but early in the morning they arose, and\nrepaired to the Ford of Combat; and Cuchulain saw that an evil look and\na lowering cloud was on the face of Ferdia that day.  \"Ill dost thou\nappear to me to-day, O Ferdia!\" said Cuchulain.  \"Thy hair hath been\ndarkened to-day, and thine eye hath been dimmed, and the form and the\nfeatures and the visage that thou art wont to have are gone from thee.\"\n \"'Tis from no fear or from terror of thee that I am what I am to-day,\"\nsaid Ferdia, \"for there is not in Ireland to-day a champion that I am\nnot able to subdue.\"  And Cuchulain complained and lamented, and he\nspoke the words that follow, and thus did Ferdia reply:\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nIs't indeed Ferdia's face?[FN#57]\nSure his meed is dire disgrace;\nHe, to war by woman led,\nComes his comrade's blood to shed.\n\n\n[FN#57]  The metre is that of the Irish.\n\n\nFerdia\n\nThou who warrior art indeed,\nChampion tried! who wounds dost breed,\nI am forced the sod to see\nWhere my final grave shall be.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nMaev her daughter, Findabar,\nWho all maids excelleth far,\nGave thee, not at love's behest,\nShe thy kingly might would test.\n\nFerdia\n\nGently ruling Hound, I know\nThat was tested long ago;\nNone so great is known to fame,\nNone, till now, to match it came.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nAll that's chanced from thee hath sprung,\nDarry's grandchild, Daman's son;\nWoman's hest hath brought thee here\nSwords to test with comrade dear.\n\n\nFerdia\n\nComrade! had I fled, nor found\nFight with thee, fair graceful Hound,\nMaev my word could broken call;\nCroghan hold my fame but small.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nNone put meat his lips between,\nNone to king or stainless queen\nYet was born, whose praise I'd gain,\nNone whose scorn would win thy pain.\n\n\nFerdia\n\nThou who deep in wars dost wade,\n'Twas not thou, 'twas Maev betrayed:\nBack with conquest shalt thou ride,\nFault hast none thy fame to hide.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nClots of blood my faithful heart\nChoke; my soul is like to part:\n'Tis with little force my arm\nStrikes, to do Ferdia harm!\n\n\n\"Greatly although thou makest complaint against me to-day,\" said\nFerdia, \"tell me to what arms shall we resort?\"  Thine is the choice of\nweapons until the night,\" said Cuchulain, \"because it was I who had the\nchoice in the day that is past.\"  \"Then,\" said Ferdia, \"let us this day\ntake to our heavy hard-smiting swords; for sooner shall we attain to\nthe end of our strife by the edge of the sword this day than we did by\nthe thrusts of our spears in the day that is gone.\"  \"Let us do so\nindeed,\" said Cuchulain.  That day they took upon them two long and\nexceedingly great shields, and they resorted to their heavy and\nhard-striking swords.  And each of them began to hew, and to cut, and\nto slaughter, and to destroy till larger than the head of a month-old\nchild were the masses and the gobbets of flesh which each of them cut\nfrom the shoulders and the thighs and the shoulder-blades of his foe.\n\nAfter this fashion did each of them hew at each other from the dawn of\nthe day until the ninth hour of the even, and then Ferdia said, \"Let us\ndesist from this now, O Cuchulain!\"  \"Let us cease indeed,\" said\nCuchulain, \"if the time has come.\"\n\nThey ceased from their strife, and they threw from them their arms into\nthe hands of their charioteers.  Pleasant and cheerful and joyous was\nthe meeting of the two: mournfully, and sorrowfully, and unhappily did\nthey part from each other that night.  Their horses were not in the\nsame paddock, their charioteers were not at the same fire, and there\nthey stayed for that night.\n\nIt was early in the morning when Ferdia arose, and he advanced alone\ntowards the Ford of Combat.  Well did he know that the battle and the\nconflict would be decided that day; that upon that day and in that\nplace one of the two would fall or that both would fall.  And then,\nbefore Cuchulain could come, Ferdia put on the armour that he was to\nuse for that battle in the conflict and fight.  And this was the battle\narmour that he used for that conflict and fight; he put a kilt of\nstriped silk, bordered with spangles of gold, next to his white skin,\nand over that he put his well-sewn apron of brown leather to protect\nthe lower part of his body.  Upon his belly he put a great stone as\nlarge as a millstone, and over that great stone as large as a millstone\nhe put his firm deep apron of purified iron, on account of the fear and\nthe dread that he had of the Gae-Bulg that day.  And his crested helmet\nthat he used for battle and conflict and fight he put upon his head:\nthere were upon it four jewels of carbuncle, each one of them fit to\nadorn it: also it was studded with enamels, with crystals, with\ncarbuncles, and with blazing rubies that had come from the East.  Into\nhis right hand he took his death-dealing sharp-pointed strong spear;\nupon his left side he hung his curved sword of battle with its golden\nhilt and its pommels of red gold: upon the slope of his back he took\nhis great and magnificent shield with great bosses upon it: fifty was\nthe number of the bosses, and upon each of them could be supported a\nfull-grown hog: moreover in the centre of the shield was a great boss\nof red gold.  Upon that day Ferdia displayed many noble, rapidly\nchanging, wonderful feats of arms on high; feats which he had never\nlearned from any other, either from his nurse or his tutor, or from\nScathach, or from Uathach, or from Aife, but which he himself invented\nthat day for his battle with Cuchulain.  And Cuchulain approached the\nford, and he saw the many, rapidly changing, wonderful feats that\nFerdia displayed on high; and \"O my friend Laeg!\" said Cuchulain, \"I\nmark those noble, rapidly changing, wonderful feats which Ferdia\ndisplays, and I know that all of those feats will in turn be tried upon\nme; and for this reason if it be I who begin to go backwards this day,\nlet it be thy part to rouse me by reproaches, and by evil speech, so\nthat my rage and my wrath may be kindled, and increase.  And if it be I\nthat shall prevail, then do thou give to me praise and approval; and\nspeak good words tome, that my courage may be the greater.\"  \"This\nindeed will I do, O Cuchulain!\" said Laeg.\n\nThen did Cuchulain put on his battle armour that he used for the combat\nand fight.  And that day he displayed noble, many-changing, wonderful,\nand many feats that he had learned from none: neither from Scathach,\nfrom Uathach, or from Aife.  And Ferdia marked those feats, and he know\nthat each in turn would be tried upon him.\n\n\"O Ferdia!\" said Cuchulain, \"tell me to what arms we shall resort?\n\n\"Thine is the choice of weapons until the night,\" said Ferdia.  \"Then,\"\nsaid Cuchulain, \"let us try the Feat of the Ford.\"[FN#58]  \"Let us do\nso indeed,\" said Ferdia; but although he thus spoke, it was with sorrow\nthat he consented, for he knew that Cuchulain had ever destroyed every\nhero and champion who had contended with him at the Feat of the Ford.\n\n\n[FN#58]  i.e. in which all weapons were allowed.\n\n\nMighty were the deeds that were done upon that day at the ford by those\ntwo heroes, the champions of the west of Europe; by those two hands\nwhich in the north-west of the world were those that best bestowed\nbounty, and pay, and reward; those twin loved pillars of valour of the\nGael; those two keys of the bravery of the Gaels, brought to fight from\nafar, owing to the urging and the intermeddling of Ailill and Maev.\nFrom the dawn till the middle of the day, each began to shoot at the\nother with his massive weapons; and when midday had come, the wrath of\nthe two men became more furious, and each drew nearer to the other.\nAnd then upon a time Cuchulain sprang from the shore of the ford, and\nhe lit upon the boss of the shield of Ferdia the son of Daman, the son\nof Dare, to strike at his head from above, over the rim of his shield.\nAnd then it was that Ferdia gave the shield a blow of his left elbow,\nand he cast Cuchulain from him like a bird, till he came down again,\nupon the shore of the ford.  And again Cuchulain sprang from the shore\nof the ford, till he lit upon the boss of the shield of Ferdia the son\nof Daman, the son of Dare, to strike his head from above, over the rim\nof the shield.  And Ferdia, gave the shield a stroke of his left knee,\nand he cast Cuchulain from him like a little child, till he came down\non the shore of the ford.\n\nLaeg saw what had been done.  \"Ah!\" said Laeg, \"the warrior who is\nagainst thee, casts thee away as a loose woman casts her child; he\nflings thee as high as the river flings its foam; he grinds thee even\nas a mill would grind fresh malt; pierces thee as the axe would pierce\nthe oak that it fells; binds thee as the woodbine binds the tree; darts\nupon thee even as the hawk darts upon little birds, so that never until\ntime and life shall end, shalt thou have a call, or right, or claim for\nprowess or for valour: thou little fairy phantom!\" said Laeg.  Up\nsprang Cuchulain, swift as the wind; quick as the swallow; fiery as the\ndragon; powerful as the lion; and he bounded into the air for the third\ntime into the troubled clouds of it, until he lit upon the boss of the\nshield of Ferdia, the son of Daman, striving to strike his head from\nabove, over the rim of the shield.  And the warrior shook his shield,\nand he threw Cuchulain from him, into the middle of the ford, just as\nif he had never been cast off at all.\n\nAnd then for the first time the countenance of Cuchulain was changed,\nand he rose in his full might, as if the air had entered into him, till\nhe towered as a terrible and wonderful giant, with the hero-light\nplaying about his head; rising as a wild man of the sea; that great and\nvaliant champion, till he overtopped Ferdia.  And now so closely were\nthey locked in the fight, that their heads met above them, and their\nfeet below them; and in their middles met their arms over the rims and\nthe bosses of their shields.  So closely were they locked in the fight,\nthat they turned and bent, and shivered their spears from the points to\nthe hafts; and cleft and loosened their shields from the centres to the\nrims.  So closely were they locked, that the Bocanachs, and the\nBananachs, and the wild people of the glens, and the demons of the air\nscreamed from the rims of their shields, and from the hilts of their\nswords, and from the hafts of their spears.  And so closely did they\nfight, that they cast the river from its bed and its course, so that\nthere might have been a couch fit for a king and a queen to he in,\nthere in the midst of the ford, for there was no drop of water left in\nit, except such as fell therein from off those two heroes and\nchampions, as they trampled and hewed at each other in the midst of the\nford.  And so fierce was their fight, that the horses of the Gaels, in\nfear and in terror, rushed away wildly and madly, bursting their\nchains, and their yokes, and their tethers, and their traces; and the\nwomen, and the common folk, and the followers of the camp, fled\nsouth-westwards out of the camp.\n\nAll this time they fought with the edges of their swords.  And then it\nwas that Ferdia found Cuchulain for a moment off his guard, and he\nstruck him with the straight edge of his sword, so that it sank into\nhis body, till the blood streamed to his girdle, and the soil of the\nford was crimson with the blood that fell from the body of that warrior\nso valiant in fight.  And Cuchulain's endurance was at an end, for\nFerdia continually struck at him, not attempting to guard, and his\ndownright blows, and quick thrusts, and crushing strokes fell\nconstantly upon him, till Cuchulain demanded of Laeg the son of\nRiangabra to deliver to him the Gae-Bulg.  Now the manner of using the\nGae-Bulg was this: it was set with its end pointing down a stream, and\nwas cast from beneath the toes of the foot: it made the wound of one\nspear on entering a person's body; but it had thirty barbs to open\nbehind, and it could not be drawn out from a man's body until he was\ncut open.  And when Ferdia heard mention of the Gae-Bulg, he made a\nstroke of his shield downwards to guard the lower part of his body.\nAnd Cuchulain thrust his unerring thorny spear off the centre of his\npalm over the rim of the shield, and through his breast covered by\nhorny defensive plates of armour, so that its further half was visible\nbehind him after piercing the heart in his chest.  Ferdia gave an\nupward stroke of his shield to guard the upper part of his body, though\ntoo late came that help, when the danger was past.  And the servant set\nthe Gae-Bulg down the stream, and Cuchulain caught it between the toes\nof his foot, and he threw it with an unerring cast against Ferdia, and\nit broke through the firm deep apron of wrought iron, and it burst the\ngreat stone that was as large as a millstone into three parts, and it\npassed through the protection of his body into him, so that every\ncrevice and cavity in him was filled with its barbs.  \"'Tis enough\nnow,\" said Ferdia. \"I have my death of that; and I have but breath\nenough to say that thou hast done an ill deed against me.  It was not\nright that thy hand should be that by which I should fall.\"  And thus\ndid he cry, as he gasped out these words:\n\n\nHound, of feats so fair![FN#59]\nDeath from thee is ill:\nThou the blame must bear,\nThou my blood dost spill.\n\nHelp no wretch hath found\nDown this chasm of woe:\nSick mine accents sound,\nAs a ghost, I go.\n\nTorn my ribs, and burst,\nGore my heart hath filled:\nThis of fights is worst,\nHound! thou hast me killed.\n\n\n[FN#59]  The metre is that of the Irish.\n\n\nAnd after those words, Cuchulain ran towards him, and with his arms and\narmour about him, carried him northwards across the ford, in order that\nthe slain man might be on the north side of the ford, and not upon the\nwestern side together with the men of Erin.  Then Cuchulain laid Ferdia\ndown, and there it was that a trance and a faint and a weakness came\nupon Cuchulain when he saw the body of Ferdia, Laeg saw his weakness,\nand the men of Ireland all arose to come upon him.  \"Rise up now, O\nCuchulain!\" said Laeg, \"for the men of Erin are coming towards us, and\nno single combat will they give to us, since Ferdia the son of Daman,\nthe son of Dare, has fallen by thy hand.\"\n\n\"How shall I be the better for arising, O my servant!\" said he, \"now\nthat he who lieth here hath fallen by me?\"  And it was in this manner\nthat his servant spoke to him, and he recited these words, and thus did\nCuchulain reply:\n\n\nLaeg\n\nNow arise, Battle-Hound of Emania!\nIt is joy and not grief should be sought;\nFor the leader of armies, Ferdia,\nThou hast slain, and hard battle hast fought.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nWhat availeth me triumph or boasting?\nFor, frantic with grief for my deed,\nI am driven to mourn for that body\nThat my sword made so sorely to bleed.\n\n\nLaeg\n\n'Tis not thou shouldst lament for his dying,\nRejoicing should spring to thy tongue;\nFor in malice, sharp javelins, flying\nFor thy wounding and bleeding he flung.\n\n\nCuchulain\n\nI would mourn, if my leg he had severed,\nHad he hewn through this arm that remains,\nThat he mounts not his steeds; and for ever\nIn life, immortality gains.\n\n\nLaeg\n\nTo the dames of Red Branch thou art giving\nMore pleasure that thus he should fall:\nThey will mourn for him dead, for thee living,\nNor shall count of thy victims be small.\n\nGreat Queen Maev thou hast chased, and hast fought her\nSince the day when first Cualgne was left;\nShe shall mourn for her folk, and their slaughter,\nBy thy hand of her champions bereft.\n\nNeither sleep nor repose hast thou taken,\nBut thy herd, her great plunder, hast chased,\nThough by all but a remnant forsaken,\nOft at dawn to the fight thou didst haste.\n\n\nNow it was in that place that Cuchulain commenced his lament and his\nmoan for Ferdia, and thus it was that he spoke:\n\n\"O my friend Ferdia! unhappy was it for thee that thou didst make no\ninquiry from any of the heroes who knew of the valorous deeds I had\ndone before thou camest to meet me in that battle that was too hard for\nthee!  Unhappy was it for thee that thou didst not inquire from Laeg,\nthe son of Riangabra[FN#60]  about what was due from thee to a comrade.\n Unhappy was it for thee that thou didst not ask for the honest and\nsincere counsel of Fergus.  Unhappy it was for thee that thou hast not\nsought counsel from the comely, the fresh-coloured, the cheery, the\nvictorious Conall about what was due from thee to a comrade.  Well do\nthese men know, that never, till life and time come to an end, shall be\nborn in the land of Connaught one who shall do deeds equal to those\nwhich have been done by thee. And if thou hadst made inquiry from these\nmen concerning the habitations, the gatherings, the promises, and the\nbroken faith of the fair-haired ladies of Connaught; hadst thou asked\nthem concerning spear-play and sword-play; concerning skill in\nbackgammon and chess; concerning feats with horses, and chariots of\nwar; they would have said that never had been found the arm of a\nchampion who could wound a hero's flesh like the arm of Ferdia; he\nwhose colour matched the tints of the clouds: none who like thee could\nexcite the croak of the bloody-mouthed vulture, as she calls her\nfriends to the feast of the many-coloured flocks; none who shall fight\nfor Croghan or be the equal of thee to the end of life and time, O thou\nruddy-cheeked son of Daman!\" said Cuchulain.  And then Cuchulain stood\nover Ferdia.  \"Ah! Ferdia,\" said Cuchulain, \"great was the treachery\nand desertion that the men of Ireland had wrought upon thee, when they\nbrought thee to combat and fight with me.  For it was no light matter\nto combat and fight with me on the occasion of the Tain bo Cuailnge.\"\nAnd thus it was that he spoke, and he then recited these words:\n\n\n[FN#60]  Pronounced Reen-gabra.\n\n\n'Twas guile to woe that brought thee;\n'Tis I that moan thy fate;\nFor aye thy doom hath caught thee,\nAnd here, alone, I wait.\n\nTo Scathach, glorious mother,\nOur words, when boys, we passed;\nNo harm for each from other\nShould come while time should last.\n\nAlas! I loved thee dearly,\nThy speech; thy ruddy face;\nThy gray-blue eyes, so clearly\nThat shone; thy faultless grace.\n\nIn wrath for strife advances\nNo chief; none shield can rear\nTo piercing storm of lances\nOf Daman's son the peer.\n\nSince he whom Aife[FN#61] bore me\nBy me was slain in fight,\nNo champion stood before me\nWho matched Ferdia's might.\n\nHe came to fight, thus trusting\nMight Findabar be won;\nSuch hopes have madmen, thrusting\nWith spears at sand or sun.\n\n\n[FN#61]  Pronounced Eefa. See note on this line.\n\n\nStill Cuchulain continued to gaze upon Ferdia.  And now, O my friend\nLaeg!\" said Cuchulain, \"strip for me the body of Ferdia, and take from\nhim his armour and his garments, that I may see the brooch for the sake\nof which he undertook this combat and fight.\"  Then Laeg arose, and he\nstripped Ferdia; he took his armour and his garments from him, and\nCuchulain saw the brooch, and he began to lament and to mourn for him,\nand he spake these words:\n\n\nAh! that brooch of gold![FN#62]\nBards Ferdia knew:\nValiantly on foes\nWith hard blows he flew.\n\nCurling golden hair,\nFair as gems it shone;\nLeaflike sash, on side\nTied, till life had gone.\n\n\n[FN#62]  The metre and the rhyme-system is that of the Irish. See\nnotes, p. 196.\n\n\nComrade, dear esteemed!\nBright thy glances beamed:\nChess play thine, worth gold:\nGold from shield rim gleamed.\n\nNone of friend had deemed\nCould such tale be told!\nCruel end it seemed:\nAh! that brooch of gold!\n\n\n\"And now, O my friend Laeg!\" said Cuchulain, \"open the body of Ferdia,\nand take the Gae-Bulg out of him, for I cannot afford to be without my\nweapon.\"  Laeg came, and he opened Ferdia's body, and he drew the\nGae-Bulg out of him, and Cuchulain saw his weapon all bloody and red by\nthe side of Ferdia, and then he spake these words:\n\n\nFerdia, I mourn for thy dying,\nThou art pale, although purple with gore:\nUnwashed is my weapon still lying,\nAnd the blood-streams from out of thee pour.\n\nOur friends in the East who have seen us,\nWhen with Uathach and Scathach[FN#63] we dwelled,\nCan bear witness, no quarrel between us\nOr with words or with weapons was held.\n\nScathach came; and to conflict inciting\nWere her accents that smote on mine ear;\n\"Go ye all, where a swift battle fighting,\nGerman wields his green terrible spear!\n\nTo Ferdia, I flew with the story,\nTo the son of fair Baitan I sped,\nAnd to Lugaid, whose gifts win him glory,\n\"Come ye all to fight German,\" I said.\n\n\n[FN#63]  Pronounced Ooha and Scaha.\n\n\nWhere the land by Loch Formay lies hollowed\nHad we come, fit for fight was the place;\nAnd beside us four hundred men followed;\nFrom the Athisech Isles was their race.\n\nAs beside me Ferdia contended\nAgainst German, at door of his dun;\nI slew Rind, who from Niul[FN#64] was descended,\nI slew Rood, of Finnool was he son.\n\n\n[FN#64]  Pronounced Nyool.\n\n\n'Twas Ferdia slew Bla by the water,\nSon of Cathbad red-sworded was he:\nAnd from Lugaid Mugarne gat slaughter,\nThe grim lord of the Torrian sea.\n\nFour times fifty men, stubborn in battle,\nBy my hand in that gateway were slain;\nTo Ferdia, of grim mountain cattle\nFell a bull, and a bull from the plain.\n\nThen his hold to the plunderers giving,\nOver ocean waves spangled with foam,\nDid we German the wily, still living,\nTo the broad-shielded Scathach bring home.\n\nThere an oath our great mistress devising,\nBoth our valours with friendship she bound;\nThat no anger betwixt us uprising\nShould 'mid Erin's fair nations be found.\n\nMuch of woe with that Tuesday was dawning,\nWhen Ferdia's great might met its end;\nThough red blood-drink I served him that morning:\nYet I loved, though I slew him, my friend.\n\nIf afar thou hadst perished when striving\nWith the bravest of heroes of Greece,\n'Tis not I would thy loss be surviving;\nWith thy death should the life of me cease.\n\nAh! that deed which we wrought won us sorrow,\nWho, as pupils, by Scathach were trained:\nThou wilt drive not thy chariot to-morrow;\nI am weak, with red blood from me drained.\n\nAh! that deed which we wrought won us anguish,\nWho, as pupils, by Scathach were taught:\nRough with gore, and all wounded, I languish;\nThou to death altogether art brought.\n\nAh! that deed that we wrought there was cruel\nFor us pupils, from Scathach who learned:\nI am strong; thou art slain in the duel,\nIn that conflict, with anger we burned.\n\n\n\"Come now, Cuchulain,\" said Laeg, \"and let us quit this ford, for too\nlong have we been here.\"  \"Now indeed will we depart, O my friend\nLaeg!\" said Cuchulain, \"but every other combat and fight that I have\nmade hath been only a game and a light matter to me compared with this\ncombat and fight with Ferdia.\"  Thus it was that he spoke; and in this\nfashion he recited:\n\n\nWars were gay, and but light was fray[FN#65]\nEre at the Ford his steeds made stay:\nLike had we both been taught,\nBoth one kind mistress swayed;\nLike the rewards we sought,\nLike was the praise she paid.\n\n\n[FN#65]  Metre and rhyme-system of the Irish imitated, but not exactly\nreproduced.\n\n\nWars were gay, and but light was fray\nEre at the Ford his steeds made stay:\nLike were our fights, oft fought,\nLike were our haunts in play;\nScathach to each of us brought\nA shield one day.\n\nWars were gay, and but light was fray\nEre at the Ford his steeds made stay:\nPillar of gold, loved well,\nLow at the Ford's side laid;\nHe, when on troops he fell,\nValour unmatched displayed.\n\nWars were gay, and but light was fray\nEre at the Ford his steeds made stay:\nLionlike, on he sped;\nHigh, in his wrath, he blazed;\nRose, as a wave of dread;\nRuin his onset raised.\n\nWars were gay, and but light was fray\nEre at the Ford his steeds made stay:\nNever, till hour of doom,\nFerdia's form shall fade;\nHigh as a cliff it loomed,\nNow is but left his shade.\n\nThree great armies went this Raid,[FN#66]\nAll the price of death have paid;\nChoicest cattle, men, and steeds\nLie in heaps, to tell my deeds.\n\n\n[FN#66]  The metre is that of the Irish.\n\n\nWidely spread their battle-line,\nLess than half their host was mine;\nThough to war stout Croghan came,\nAll I slew, for me a game!\n\nNone the battle neared like thee,\nNone of all whom Banba nursed\nPassed thy fame; on land, on sea,\nThou, of sons of kings, art first!\n\n\n\n\nSPECIAL NOTE\n\n\n\nON THE \"COMBAT AT THE FORD\"\n\n\nThe episode translated in the foregoing pages is not only one of the\nfamous examples on which Irish literature can fairly rest its claim to\nuniversal recognition, but it also affords an excellent instance of the\nproblems involved when it comes to be studied critically.  These\nproblems, upon the solution of which must to some extent depend our\nestimate of the place of Irish in the general development of European\nliterature) axe briefly dealt with in Mr. Leahy's Preface, as well as\nin his special Introduction (supra, pp. 114, 115), but may perhaps be\nthought worthy of somewhat more detailed examination.\n\nThe existence of two markedly different versions of the \"Tain bo\nCuailnge,\" one, obviously older, represented by the eleventh-century\nMS. Leabhar na h-Uidhri (L.U.), and the fourteenth-century MS. Yellow\nBook of Lecan (Y.B.L.); the other, obviously younger, by the\ntwelfth-century Book of Leinster (L.L.), was pointed out by Professor\nHeinrich Zimmer twenty-seven years ago in his study of the L.U. heroic\nsaga texts (Keltische Studien V.: Zeitschrift f\u00fcr vergleichende\nSprachforschung, vol. xxviii.).  The conclusion that he drew from the\nfact, as also from the peculiarities disclosed by his analysis of the\nL.U. texts, is substantially that stated by Mr. Leahy: \"On the whole it\nseems as if the compiler of the manuscript from which both the Leabhar\nna h-Uidhri and the Yellow Book of Lecan were copied, combined into one\nseveral different descriptions of the 'War,' one of which is\nrepresented by the Book of Leinster version.\"  He furthermore\nemphasised a particular aspect of this compiler's activity to which Mr.\nLeahy also draws repeated attention; he (the compiler) was a man\ninterested in the historical and antiquarian rather than in the\nliterary side of the texts he harmonised and arranged: hence his\npreference for versions that retain archaic and emphasise mythical\nelements; hence his frequent interpolation of scraps of historical and\nantiquarian learning; hence his indifference to consistency in the\nconduct of the story, and to its artistic finish.  Professor Zimmer\nurged that the \"compiler\" was no other than Flann, Abbot of\nMonasterboice, who died in 1047, and was regarded as the most famous\nrepresentative of Irish learning in his day.  There has come down to us\nunder his name a considerable mass of chronological and historical\nwriting, partly in prose, partly in verse, and it seems certain that he\nwas one of the chief artisans in framing that pragmatic redaction of\nIrish myth, heroic legend, and historical tradition most fully\nrepresented by the two great compilations of the seventeenth century:\nthe Annals of the Four Masters, emphasising its antiquarian, historical\nside; Keating's History, emphasising its romantic, legendary side.\n\nWhilst Professor Zimmer's conclusion as to the personality of the L.U.\ncompiler has been challenged, his main thesis has remained unshaken.\nOn the whole, it can be asserted positively that the common source of\nL.U. and Y.B.L. goes back to the early eleventh century; on the whole,\nthat this common source itself utilised texts similar to those\ncontained in the Book of Leinster.  Moreover, the progress of\nlinguistic analysis during the past quarter-century has strengthened\nthe contention that some of the elements used by Flann (or another) in\ncompiling his eleventh-century harmony are as old, in point of\nlanguage, as any existing remains of Irish outside the Ogham\ninscriptions; in other words, being as old as the earliest glosses,\nthey may date back to the eighth or even seventh century.  In\nparticular the L.U.-Y.B.L. version of the \"Tain bo Cuailnge\" contains a\nlarge proportion of such elements and may, in the main, be treated as\nan eighth-century text.\n\nIt must, however, be pointed out, and for this reason I have italicised\nthe qualifying \"on the whole,\" \"in the main,\" that this conclusion does\nnot enable us to declare dogmatically (1) that all portions of the\nL.U.-Y.B.L. version must go back to the eighth century; (2) that all\nportions of the Book of Leinster version must precede the compilation\nof the common source of L.U. and Y.B.L.  For as regards (1), not only\nmust the definitely ascertained activity of the eleventh-century\ncompiler be taken into account, but also the possible activity of later\nscribes.  If we possessed the complete text of the L.U.-Y.B.L.\nredaction in both MSS., we could at least be sure concerning the\npossible variations introduced during the two centuries that elapsed\nbetween the writing of the Yellow Book (early fourteenth century) and\nthat of L.U. (late eleventh century).  But most unfortunately both MSS.\nare imperfect, the Yellow Book at the opening, L.U. at the close of our\ntale.  Thus of the special episode under consideration, the \"Combat at\nthe Ford,\" the older redaction is only extant in the fourteenth-century\nMS., and it is always open to impugners of its archaic character to say\nthat it has been introduced there from the rival Leinster version.\nAgain, as regards (2), whilst it is practically certain that the great\nmass of the Leinster version was in existence before the time of the\nsource whence both L.U. and Y.B.L. are derived, and must therefore date\nback to the early eleventh century, it is by no means certain that this\nversion was not considerably altered and enlarged before it came to be\nwritten down in the Book of Leinster some time before 1154.\n\nThe older version of the \"Tain bo Cuailnge\" has been translated by Miss\nWinifred Faraday (Grimm Library, No. xvi. 1904).  In her Introduction\n(p. xvii.) Miss Faraday argues against the assumption \"that L.L.\npreserves an old version of the episode,\" and questions \"whether the\nwhole Fer Diad[FN#67] episode may not be late.\"  The truth of this one\ncontention would by no means involve that of the other; and again, both\nmight be true without invalidating any of the conclusions drawn by Mr.\nLeahy (supra, p. 115).  If the episode as we have it first took shape\nin the tenth century, it would be late as compared with much of the\nrest of the \"Tain,\" and yet it would be the earliest example in\npost-classic European literature of the sentiments and emotions to\nwhich it gives such fine and sympathetic expression.  In comparing the\ntwo versions, the following fact is at once noticeable.  The Y.B.L.\ntext occupies pp. 100-112 of Miss Faraday's translation, in round\nfigures, 320 lines of 8 words to the line, or some 2600 words; the\nLeinster version, omitting the verse, fills some 500 lines of 14 words,\nor 7000 words.  Up to a certain point, however, the actual meeting of\nthe two champions, there is no difference between the versions in\nlength; the prose of both runs to about 2200 words.  But the whole of\nthe actual fight (supra, pp. 129-153 in the Leinster version) is\ncompressed into a page and a half in the older redaction, some 800\nwords as against over 4000.  Obviously this cannot represent the\noriginal state of things; it would be psychologically impossible for\nany story-teller to carry on his narrative up to a given stage with the\ndramatic vigour, point, and artistically chosen detail displayed in the\nfirst portion of the Y.B.L. version of the combat, and then to treat\nthe culmination of the tale in such a huddled, hasty, scamped manner.\nThe most likely explanation is that the original from which the Y.B.L.\nscribe was copying was imperfect, and that the lacuna was supplied from\nmemory, and from a very faulty memory.  No conclusion can thus, I\nthink, be drawn from the fact that the details of the actual combat are\nso bald and meagre in the only extant text of the older redaction.\n\n\n[FN#67]  This is the spelling in Y. B. L. In L.L. the name appears as\none word, \"Ferdiad\"; usually scanned as a dissyllable--though\noccasionally as a trisyllable.  The spelling Ferdia is the conventional\none sanctioned by the usage of Ferguson, Aubrey de Vere, and others;\nthe scansion of the word as a trisyllable is on the same authority.\n\n\nIf the two versions be compared where they are really comparable, i.e.\nin that portion which both narrate at approximately the same length,\nthe older redaction will be found fuller of incident, the characters\ndrawn with a bolder, more realistic touch, the presentment more\nvigorous and dramatic.  Ferdiad is unwilling to go against Cuchulain\nnot, apparently, solely for prudential reasons, and he has to be goaded\nand taunted into action by Medb, who displays to the full her wonted\nmagnificently resourceful unscrupulousness, regardless of any and every\nconsideration, so long as she can achieve her purpose.  The action of\nFergus is far more fully dwelt upon, and the scones between him and his\ncharioteer, as also between him and Cuchulain, are given with far\ngreater spirit.  The hero is indignant that Fergus should think it\nnecessary to warn him against a single opponent, and says roundly that\nit is lucky no one else came on such an errand.  The tone of the older\nredaction is as a whole rough, animated, individualistic as compared\nwith the smoother, more generalised, less accentuated presentment of\nthe Leinster version.  But to conclude from this fact that the older\nredaction of the actual combat, if we had it in its original fulness\ninstead of in a bald and fragmentary summary, would not have dwelt upon\nthe details of the fighting, would not have insisted upon the courteous\nand chivalrous bearing of the two champions, would not have emphasised\nthe inherent pathos of the situation, seems to me altogether\nunwarranted.  On the contrary the older redaction, by touches of\nstrong, vivid, archaic beauty lacking in the Leinster version leads up\nto and prepares for just such a situation as the latter describes so\nfinely. One of these touches must be quoted.  Cuchulain's charioteer\nasks him what he will do the night before the struggle, and then\ncontinues, \"It is thus Fer Diad will come to seek you, with new beauty\nof plaiting and haircutting and washing and bathing....  It would\nplease me if you went to the place where you will got the same adorning\nfor yourself, to the place where is Emer of the Beautiful Hair....  So\nCuchulain went thither that night, and spent the night with his own\nwife.\"  There is indeed the old Irish hero faring forth to battle as a\nlover to the love tryst!  How natural, how inevitable with warriors of\nsuch absurd and magnificent susceptibility, such boyish love of\nswagger, how natural, I say, the free and generous emotion combined\nwith an overmastering sense of personal honour, and a determination to\nwin at all costs, which are so prominent in the Leinster version of the\nfight.[FN#68]\n\n\n[FN#68]  The trait must not be put down as a piece of story-teller's\nfancy.  In another text of the Ulster cycle, Cath ruis na Rig,\nConchobor's warriors adorn and beautify themselves in this way before\nthe battle.  The Aryan Celt behaved as did the Aryan Hellene.  All\nreaders of Herodotus will recall how the comrades of Leonidas prepared\nfor battle by engaging in games and combing out their hair, and how\nDemaretus, the counsellor of Xerxes, explained to the king \"that it is\na custom with these men that when they shall prepare to imperil their\nlives; that is the time when they adorn their heads\" (Herodotus vii.\n209.)\n\n\nThe contention that the older redaction, if we had it complete, would\nresemble the younger one in its insistence upon the chivalrous bearing\nof the two opponents, may also be urged on historical grounds.  The\nsentiment which gives reality and power to the situation is based upon\nthe strength of the tie of blood-brotherhood; so strong is this that it\nalmost balances the most potent element in the ideal of old Irish\nheroism--the sense of personal honour and pre-eminence in all that\nbefits a warrior.  The tie itself and the sentiment based upon it\ncertainly belong to pre-Christian times, and must have been losing\nrather than gaining in strength during the historic period, say from\nthe fourth century onwards.  The episode of Cuchulain's combat with\nFerdiad must have existed in the older redaction of the \"Tain\" for the\nsimple reason that a tenth and eleventh century story-teller would have\nfound nothing in the feelings, customs, or literary conventions of his\nown day to suggest to him such a situation and such a manner of working\nit out.  But--and this consideration may afford a ground of\nconciliation with Miss Faraday and the scholars who hold by the\nlateness of the episode--the intrinsic beauty and pathos of the\nsituation, the fact of its constituting an artistic climax, would\nnaturally tempt the more gifted of the story-telling class.  There\nwould be a tendency to elaborate, to adorn in the newest fashion, hence\nto modernise, and it is not only conceivable but most probable that the\noriginal form should be farther departed from than in the case of much\nelse in the epic.\n\nALFRED NUTT.\n\n\n\n\nGENERAL NOTES\n\n\n\nTHE COURTSHIP OF ETAIN\n\n\nThe translation of both versions of this romance has been revised by\nProfessor Strachan, and the linguistic notes are due to him, unless\notherwise stated.  The rendering given in the text is noted as\n\"doubtful,\" in cases where Professor Strachan does not assent.\n\n\nPAGE 7\n@@both line 17?\nLine 17.  \"By a means that he devised,\" do airec memman, lit. \"by a\ndevice of mind.\" Compare airecc memman aith (Meyer, Hib. Minora, p. 28).\n\nLine 17.  \"So that she became well-nourished, &c.,\" lit. \"till there\ncame to her fatness and form;\" sult probably means \"fatness,\" and feth\n\"form.\"\n\n\nPAGE 8\n\nLine 25.  \"Curvetting and prancing,\" tuagmar, foran.  These are guesses\nby O'Curry: curvetting may be right, but there is little authority for\nrendering foran as \"prancing \"; this word is doubtful.  \"With a broad\nforehead,\" forlethan, lit. \"broad above,\" O'Curry renders\n\"broad-rumped.\"\n\nLine 34.  \"Upon the shore of the bay,\" forsin purt. Windisch's\nrendering of port is \"bank, harbour\"; but it is doubtful whether the\nword means more than \"place.\"\n\n\nPAGE 9\n\nThe literal rendering adopted for the poem runs thus:\n\n\nEtain is here thus\nat the elf-mound of the Fair-Haired Women west of Alba\namong little children to her\non the shore of the Bay of Cichmaine.\n\nIt is she who cured the eye of the king\nfrom the Well of Loch da lig,\nit is she who was drunk in a draught\nby the wife of Etar in a heavy draught.\n\nThrough war for her the king will chase\nthe birds from Tethba,\nand will drown his two horses\nin the lake da Airbrech.\n\nThere shall be abundant and many wars\nthrough the war for thee on Echaid of Meath,\ndestruction shall be on the elf-mounds,\nand war upon many thousands.\n\nIt is she who was hurt in the land (?),\nit is she who strove to win the king,\nit is she as compared to whom men men speak of fair women,\nit is she, our Etain afterwards.\n\n\nLine 2.  \"West of Alba\" is literally \"behind Alba,\" iar n-Albai: iar\nis, however, also used in the sense of \"west of.\"\n\nLine 14 is given by Windisch \"through the war over Meath rich in\nhorses\"; this is impossible.\n\nThe translation of line 17 is not quite certain; the literal\ntranslation of the MS. seems to be \"it is she who was hurt and the\nland.\"  Da Airbrech in line 12 may mean \"of two chariots.\"\n\n\nPAGE 10\n\nLiteral translation of the quatrain:\n\n\nIgnorant was Fuamnach, the wife of Mider,\nSigmall and Bri with its trees\nin Bri Leth: it was a full trial\nwere burned by means of Manannan.\n\n\nPAGE 11\n\nLine 5.  \"Labraid the Tracker.\"  This is a very doubtful rendering, the\ntext gives Labradae Luircc.\n\nLine 25.  \"That he desired full knowledge of.\" There seems to be\nsomething with the Irish here; the word is co fessta which could only\nbe third singular subj. pass. \"that it might be known,\" which does not\nmake grammar.  It should be co fessed or co festais, \"that he (or they)\nmight know.\"\n\n\nPAGE 12\n\nLine 9.  \"His officers who had the care of the roads.\"  A very doubtful\nrendering; the Irish is tarraluing sligeth.\n\nLine 29.  \"A bright purple mantle waved round her,\" lit. \"a bright\npurple curling (?) mantle,\" but the sense of caslechta as \"curling\" is\nnot certain.\n\nLine 30.  \"Another mantle.\"  The word for mantle here is folai, in the\nformer line it was brat.\n\n\nPAGE 13\n\nLine 3.  \"As white as the snow.\" ba gilighuir mechto: not \"whiter than\nthe snow,\" as Windisch's Dict. gives it.\n\nLine 17.  \"All that's graceful, &c.,\" cach cruth co hEtain, coem cach\nco hEtain.  Compare conid chucum bagthir cach n-delb. (L.U., 124b, 17,\n\"Courtship of Emer \"), and Ir. Text., iii. p. 356, 1. 4, from which it\nmay be seen that the meaning is that Etain is the test to which all\nbeauty must be compared.\n\n\nPAGE 14\n\nLine 19.  \"So long as they were,\" not \"so long as he was.\"  The Irish\nis cein ropas, and ropas is the impersonal preterite passive.\n\nLine 29.  \"The choking misery, &c.,\" lit. \"he let come to him the\nslaodan of a heavy sickness:\" slaodan is the cough of consumption.\n\n\nPAGE 15\n\nLine 2.  Lit. \"worse and worse,\" messa a cach.\n\nLine 18.  \"His burial mound,\" a fert fodbuigh.  Compare Zimmer, Kuhn's\nZeitschrift, xxx. 9, for fotbuig.\n\n\nLiteral rendering of the dialogue:\n\n\nB.  What hath happened to thee, O young man?\nlong is thy bed of sickness,\nprostrate is thy full and splendid pace,\nhowever fair the weather may be.\n\nA.  There is cause for my sighs;\nthe music of my harp contents me not;\nneither does any milk please me,\nit is this that brings me into a pitiful state.\n\nE.  Tell me what ails thee, O man,\nfor I am a maiden who is wise;\ntell me of anything which may be of benefit to thee\nthat thy healing may be wrought by me.\n\nA.  To speak of it is not possible for me\n(lit. \"finds not room in me\"),\nO maiden, lovely is thy form,\nthere is fire of some one behind her eyes (?)\nnor are the secrets of women good.\n\nB.  Though the secrets of women are bad,\nyet, if it is love, the remembrance remains for long;\nfrom the time when the matter is taken into hand\nthis thing is not deserving of its (?) recognition.\n\nA.  A blessing on thee, O white maiden,\nI am not worthy of this speech to me;\nneither am I grateful to my own mind,\nmy body is in opposition to me.\n\nWretched indeed is this, O wife of the King,\nEochaid Fedlech in very truth,\nmy body and my head are sick,\nit is reported in Ireland.\n\nE.  If there is among the troops of white women\nany one who is vexing thee,\nshe shall come here, if it is pleasing to thee,\nthere shall be made by my help her courtship.\n\n\nIn verse 3, line 2, inniss dam gach dal, dal means no more than thing\nit is not an accusative from dal, a meeting.\n\nVerse 4, line 3.  Meaning doubtful.\n\nVerse 7, line 2.  The confusion between Eochaid Airemm, the king in\nthis story, and his brother Eochaid Fedlech is obvious.  It may, as\nWindisch thinks, be an indication that the poem is not part of the\nromance as originally composed, but other explanations are possible.\n\nLine 4.  \"It is reported.\" Not quite certain; Irish is issed berair.\n\n\nPAGE 17\n\nLine 11.  \"And great gain, &c.\" Text defective, and meaning uncertain.\n\nLine 13.  Rhetoric; the literal translation seems to be as follows, but\nsome words are uncertain:\n\n\nIt is love that was longer enduring (?) than a year my love,\nit is like being under the skin,\nit is the kingdom of strength over destruction.\n\nIt is the dividing into quarters of the earth,\nit is summit (7) of heaven,\nit is breaking of the neck,\nit is a battle against a spectre.\n\nIt is drowning with cold (or ? water),\nit is a race up heaven,\nit is a weapon under the ocean,\nit is affection for an echo;\n(so is) my affection and my love and my desire of the one on whom I\nhave set (my love).\n\n\nPAGE 18\n\nLine 2.  The translation given is Windisch's, \"it is sorrow under the\nskin is Strachan's rendering.\n\nLine 5.  Translation uncertain.  Irish is dichend nime.\n\nLine 8.  Is combath fri huacht (I read husce).\n\nLiteral rendering of the poem:\n\n\nArise, O glorious Ailill,\ngreat bravery is more proper to thee than anything;\nsince thou shalt find here what was wished by thee,\nthy healing shall be done by me.\n\nIf it should please thee in thy wise mind,\nplace hand about my neck;\na beginning of courtship, beautiful its colour,\nwoman and man kissing each other.\n\nBut, if this is not enough for thee, O good man,\nO son of a king, O royal prince,\nI will give for thy healing, O glorious crime,\nfrom my knee to my navel.\n\nA hundred cows, a hundred ounces of gold,\na hundred bridled horses were collecting,\na hundred garments of each variegated colour,\nthese were brought as a price for me.\n\nA hundred of each other beast came hither,\nthe drove was great;\nthese to me quickly, till the sum was complete,\ngave Eochaid at the one time.\n\n\nLine 14.  Of poem.  \"Were collecting,\" ratinol.  This is the rendering\nin Windisch's Dictionary, but is a doubtful one.\n\nLine 18.  Imerge means \"drove,\" not \"journey,\" as in Windisch.\n\nLine 27 of text.  \"Wrought a great healing, &c.\" Irish, ro lessaig,\n\"healed him\" (Windisch); \"waited upon him\" (Strachan).\n\n\nPAGE 19\n\nLine 17.  \"For fear of danger.\"  Baegal, \"danger,\" has sometimes the\nsense of \"chance,\" \"risk.\"\n\nLine 23.  \"That is what I would demand of thee.\"  Translation not quite\ncertain Irish, cid rotiarfaiged.\n\n\nPAGE 20\n\nLine 2.  \"That both of us do indeed deem, &c.\" lit. \"it is so indeed\nwell to us both.\"\n\nLine 22.  For the incident compare Bodleian Dinnshenchas (Nutt, p. 27):\nthe introduction of Crochen is a human touch which seems to be\ncharacteristic of the author of this version.  The Dinnshenchas account\nseems to be taken from the romance, but it gives the name of Sinech as\nMider's entertainer at Mag Cruachan.\n\nLine 25.  \"The Fairy Mound of Croghan.\" Irish, co sith s\u00ednighe Cruachan;\nfor s\u00ednighe read Maighe, \"to the sid of Mag C.\"\n\n\nPAGE 21\n\nLine 2.  Until the same day upon the year, &c.,\" on lo cu cele, \"from\nthat day to its fellow,\" i.e. \"till the same day next year.\"\n\nLine 10.  \"Three wands of yew.\"  This looks like an early case of a\ndivining-rod.\n\nLine 21.  \"Hath smitten thee,\" rotirmass for ro-t-ormaiss, \"hath hit\nthee.\"\n\nLine 29.  \"They ruined,\" \"docuas ar,\" an idiomatic phrase; \"they\novercame,\" an idiomatic phrase.  Compare Annals of Ulster under years\n1175, 1315, 1516.\n\n\nPAGE 22\n\nLine 2.  \"Messbuachalla.\"  This makes Etain the great-grandmother of\nConary, the usual account makes her the grandmother, so that there is\nhere an extra generation inserted.  Yet in the opening she and Eochaid\nAirem are contemporary with kings who survived Conary!\n\nLine 4.  \"The fairy host, &c.\"  The order of the words in the original\nis misleading and difficult sithchaire and Mider are the subjects to ro\nchoillsiut and to doronsat.\n\n\nPAGE 23\n\nLine 12.  That there should be adjusted)\" fri commus, lit. \"for\nvaluation,\" but commus has also the sense of \"adjusting.\"\n\n\nPAGE 24\n\nLine 4.  \"Since he for a long time, &c.,\" fodaig dognith abairt dia\nsirsellad. See Meyer's Contributions, s.v. abairt.\n\nLine 23.  \"To gaze at her.\"  Up to this point the L.U. version\n(exclusive of the Prologue) bears the character of an abstract,\nafterwards the style improves.\n\n\nPAGE 25\n\nLine 2.  \"But it shall not be in the abode, &c.\"  Windisch seems to\nhave mimed the point here, he considers these lines to be an\ninterpolation.\n\n\nPAGE 26\n\nLine 5.  Following Windisch's suggestion, this poem has been placed\nhere instead of the later place where it occurs in the text.  This\nfamous poem has been often translated; but as there appear to be points\nin it that have been missed, a complete literal rendering is appended:\n\n\nO fair-haired woman, will you come with me\ninto a marvellous land wherein is music (?);\nthe top of the head there is hair of primrose,\nthe body up to the head is colour of snow.\n\nIn that country is no \"mine\" and no \"thine\";\nwhite are teeth there, black are eyebrows,\nthe colour of the eyes is the number of our hosts,\neach cheek there the hue of the foxglove.\n\nThe purple of the plain is (on) each neck,\nthe colour of the eyes is (colour of) eggs of blackbird;\nthough pleasant to the sight are the plains of Fal (Ireland),\nthey are a wilderness (7) for a man who has known the Great Plain.\n\nThough intoxicating to ye the ale of the island of Fal,\nthe ale of the Great Country is more intoxicating\na wonder of a land is the land I speak of,\na young man there goes not before an old man.\n\nStream smooth and sweet flow through the land,\nthere is choice of mead and wine;\nmen handsome (?) without blemish,\nconception without sin, without crime.\n\nWe see all on every side,\nand yet no one seeth us,\nthe cloud of the sin of Adam it is\nthat encompasses us from the reckoning.\n\nO woman, if thou wilt come to my strong people,\nit is top of head of gold shall be on thy head,\nunsalted pork, new milk and mead for drink\nshalt thou have with me there, O fair-haired woman.\n\n\nLine 2.  Hi fil rind.  The meaning of rind (?) music) is uncertain.\n\nLine 3.  Is barr sobarche folt and.  This line is often translated as\n\"hair is wreathed with primrose\": the image would be better, but it is\nnot the Irish.  Barr is \"top of head,\" and folt is \"hair.\"\n\nLine 4.  Is and nad bi mui na tai.  Muisse is in old Irish the\npossessive of the first sing when followed by a noun it becomes mo,\nwhen not so followed it is mui; tai is also found for do.  O'Curry gave\nthis line as \"there is no sorrow nor care.\"\n\nLines 7 and 10.  Is li sula lin ar sluag and is li sula ugai luin are\nso similar that is li sula must mean the same in both, and cannot mean\n\"splendour of eyes\" in the first case unless it does so in the second.\nThe idea in the first case seems to be that the hosts are reflected in\nthe eyes; it is so rendered in the verse translation.  A blackbird's\negg has a blue ground, but is so thickly powdered with brown spots of\nall shapes that it looks brown at a distance.  At first I was inclined\nto take the idea to be \"hazel\" eyes, but comparing line 7, it seems\nmore likely that the idea is that all sorts of shapes appear in the\npupil.\n\nLine 12.  The translation of annam as a \"wilderness\" is very doubtful,\nit more probably is \"seldom\"; and the line should be \"seldom will it be\nso after knowledge of, &c.\"\n\nLine 16.  This has always been rendered \"no youth there grows to old\nage.\"  But the Irish is ni thecht oac and re siun, and re siun can only\nmean \"before an old (man).\"  The sense possibly is, that as men do not\nbecome feeble with advancing years, the younger man has not the same\nadvantage over his elders in the eyes of women that he has in this\nworld.\n\nLine 17.  Teith millsi, \"smooth and honey-sweet\" (Meyer, MacCongl., p.\n196).\n\nLine 24.  Compare a story of some magical pigs that could not be\ncounted accurately (Revue Celtique, vol. xiii. p. 449).\n\nLine 31.  Muc ur, \"unsalted pork\"; see Glossary to Laws, p. 770; also\nMacConglinne (Kuno Meyer), p, 99.\n\n\nPAGE 27\n\nLine 23.  \"He ascended.\"  Fosrocaib for sosta: fosrocaib is an unknown\ncompound (=fo-sro-od-gaib).  Perhaps frisocaib for sosta, \"mounted on\nthe heights.\"\n\nLine 29.  Co brainni a da imdae, \"to the edges of his two shoulders\";\nsee braine, in Meyer's Contributions.\n\n\nPAGE 28.\n\nLine 19.  \"Casting their light on every side,\" cacha air di = cacha\nairidi, \"in every direction.\"\n\nLine 25.  \"If thou dost obtain the forfeit of my stake,\" mad tu beras\nmo thocell.  For tocell see Zimmer, Kuhn's Zeitsch., xxx. 80.\n\nLine 29.  \"Eager\" (?), femendae.  See Bruiden da Derga (Stokes), 50, 51.\n\nLine 30.  \"Easily stopped,\" so-ataidi suggested for sostaidi in the\ntext: cf. Bruiden da Derga.  The conjecture has not Strachan's\nauthority.\n\n\nPAGE 29\n\nLine 19.  Literal translation of rhetoric: \"Put it in hand, place it\nclose in hand, noble are oxen for hours after sunset, heavy is the\nrequest, it is unknown to whom the gain, to whom the loss from the\ncauseway.\"\n\nLine 28.  \"Over the chariot-pole of life\" seems to be a literal\nrendering of for fertas in betha.  Strachan renders \"on the face of the\nworld,\" which is of course the meaning of the simile.\n\nLine 30.  \"High was he girt,\" ard chustal.  The meaning of custal is\nnot known; it was used of some arrangement of the dress.  See Ir.\nText., iii. 226; also L.U. 79a, 35, L.L. 97a, 40; 98a, 51; 253a, 30.\n\nLine 31.  \"Eochaid arose,\" Atrigestar Eochaid. Strachan thinks it much\nmore likely that this is \"Eochaid feared him,\" the verb coming from\natagur.  It is, however, just possible that the word might be a\ndeponent form from atregaim, \"I arise.\"  Eochaid does not elsewhere\nshow any fear of Mider, the meaning given agrees better with the tone\nof the story, and is grammatically possible.\n\n\nPAGE 30\n\nLine 1.  \"All things that seemed good, &c.,\" lit. \"I have been\naccustomed to get what seemed good to thee,\" adethaind ni bad maith.\n\nLine 3.  \"Anger for anger,\" bara fri bure.  Compare the word bura in\nMeyer's Contributions.\n\nLine 25.  \"In order that Eochaid should stand in his debt,\" lit. \"that\nthere might be cause of reproach for him to Eochaid.\"\n\nLine 32.  \"Forest that is over Breg.\" MS. fid dar bre, with mark of\nabbreviation.  This is read to be dar Breg. Professor Rhys (Arthurian\nLegend, p. 28) renders \"to cover Darbrech with trees.\"\n\nLine 33.  \"As it is written in the book of Drom Snechta.  \"This is a\nconjecture by Mrs. Hutton as a restoration of the words in L.U., which\nis torn just here: the words appear to be amal atbert lebor drums.\n\n\nPAGE 31\n\nLine 1.  This rhetoric is very obscure; much of it cannot be\ntranslated.  The text seems to be as follows, according to Strachan:\nCuisthe illand tochre illand airderg damrad trom inchoibden clunithar f\u00edr\nferdi buidni balc-thruim crandchuir forderg saire fedar sechuib\nslimprib snithib sc\u00edtha lama indrosc cloina fo b\u00edth oen mna. Duib in d\u00edgail\nduib in trom daim tairthim flatho fer ban fomnis fomnis in fer mbranie\ncerpiae fomnis diad dergae fer arfeid soluig fria iss esslind fer bron\nfor-t\u00ed ertechta in de lamnado luachair for di Thethbi d\u00edlecud (? diclochud)\nMidi in dracht coich les coich amles ? thocur ? dar c? moin.\n\nApparent rendering: \"Place on the land, place close on the land, very\nred oxen, heavy troop which hears, truly manlike ? troops, strong heavy\nplacing of trees, very red . . . is led past them with twisted wattles,\nweary hands, the eye slants aside (squints) because of one woman.  To\nyou the vengeance, to you the heavy ? oxen ? splendour of sovereignty\nover white men, . . . man sorrow on thee . . . of childbirth, rushes\nover Tethba, clearing of stones from Meath . . . where the benefit\nwhere the evil, causeway over . . . moor.\"  It seems that the oxen were\ntransformed people of Mider's race; this appears from f\u00edr-ferdi, which is\ntaken to mean \"really men\"; and duib in digail duib in trom-daim, which\nis taken to mean \"to you the vengeance, to you heavy oxen.\"\n\nProfessor Strachan disagrees with this, as daim, to be \"oxen,\" should\nnot have the accent, he makes trom-daim \"heavy companies.\"  He also\nrenders clunithar f\u00edr ferdi buindi, as \"which hears truth, manly troops.\"\n The rest of the translation he agrees to, most of it is his own.\n\nThe passage from fomnis fomnis to lamnado seems untranslatable.\n\n\nPAGE 32\n\nLine 1.  Lit. \"no evil wedding feast (banais, text banas) for thee?\n\n\n\nMAC DATHO'S BOAR\n\n\nPAGE 37\n\nLine 3.  The Rawlinson version gives, instead of \"who was the guardian\nof all Leinster,\" the variant \"who would run round Leinster in a day.\"\nThis semi-supernatural power of the hound is the only supernatural\ntouch in either version of the tale.\n\nLine 6.  The verse \"Mesroda son of Datho\" is from the Rawlinson MS.\nThe literal version of it is in Anecdota Oxoniensia, Mediaeval Series,\npart viii. p. 57.  (This reference will in future be given as A.O., p.\n57.)\n\nLine 20.  The list of the hostelries or guest-houses of Ireland\nincludes the scene of the famous Togail Da Derga, in the sack of which\nConaire, king of Ireland, was killed. Forgall the Wily was the father\nof Emer, Cuchulain's wife.  The tale of the plunder of da Choca is in\nthe MS. classed as H. 3, 18 in the Trinity College, Dublin, Library.\n\n\nPAGE 38\n\nThe literal version of the dialogue between Mac Datho and his wife is\ngiven in A.O., p. 58, following the Leinster text (there are only two\nlines of it given in the Rawlinson MS.); but I note a few divergencies\nin the literal version from which the verse translation was made.\n\nVerse 3, line 1.  Asbert Crimthann Nia Nair, \"Crimthann Nia Nair has\nsaid\" (A.O.).  Nia is \"sister's son,\" and has been so rendered.  Nia is\na champion, and this is the meaning given in the Coir Anmann; but nia\nhas no accent in either the Leinster or Harleian manuscripts of the\ntext.  The Coir Anmann (Ir. Tex., iii. 333) says that Nar was a witch.\n\nVerse 4, lines 1, 2.  Cid fri mnai atbertha-su Mani thesbad n\u00ed aire, \"Why\nwouldest thou talk to a woman if something were not amiss?\" (A.O.).\n\"Why dost thou speak against a woman unless something fails on that\naccount\" seems as good a translation, and fits the sense better.\n\nVerse 7, line 2.  Leis falmag dar sin tuaith, \"By him Ireland (shall be\nroused) over the people.\"  The omitted verb is apparently \"to be,\" as\nabove.  Line 4 of the same verse is left untranslated in A.O., it is\nata neblai luim luaith.  It seems to mean \"There is nothing on the\nplain for bareness (luim) of ashes,\" more literally, \"There is a\nno-plain for, &c.\"\n\nVerse 9, lines 2, 3.  Isi n\u00edm den\u00ed cutal.  Ailbe do roid dia.  \"It does not\nmake sorrow for me; as for Ailbe, \"God sent him\" seems to be the sense;\nbut the meaning of cutal is obscure.\n\n\nPAGE 41\n\nLine 8.  \"Forty oxen as side-dishes,\" lit. \"forty oxen crosswise to it\"\n(dia tarsnu).  The Rawlinson MS. gives \"sixty oxen to drag it\" (dia\ntarraing).\n\nLine 33.  \"The son of Dedad.\"  Clan Dedad was the Munster hero clan,\nhaving their fortress in Tara Luachra; they correspond to the more\nfamous Clan Rury of Ulster, whose stronghold was Emain Macha.  Curoi of\nMunster seems to have been a rival hero to Cuchulain.\n\n\nPAGE 42\n\nLine 20.  \"Pierced through with a spear.\"  The different ways in which\nKet claims to have conquered his rivals or their relations may be\nnoted; the variety of them recalls the detailed descriptions of wounds\nand methods of killing so common in Homer.  There are seven victories\nclaimed, and in no two is the wound the same, a point that\ndistinguishes several of the old Irish romances from the less elaborate\nfolk-tales of other nations.  Arthur's knights in Malory \"strike down\"\neach other, very occasionally they \"pierce through the breast\" or\n\"strike off a head,\" but there is seldom if ever more detail.  In the\nVolsunga Saga men \"fall,\" or are \"slain,\" in a few cases of the more\nimportant deaths they are \"pierced,\" or \"cut in half,\" but except in\nthe later Niebelungenlied version where Siegfried is pierced through\nthe cross embroidered on his back, a touch which is essential to the\nplot, none of the Homeric detail as to the wounds appears.  The same\nremark applies to the saga of Dietrich and indeed to most others; the\nonly cases that I have noticed which resemble the Irish in detail are\nin the Icelandic Sagas (the Laxdale Saga and others), and even there\nthe feature is not at all so prominent as here, in the \"Tain be\nCuailnge,\" and several other Irish romances, though it is by no means\ncommon to all of them.  It may be noted that the Irish version of the\n\"Tale of Troy\" shows this feature, and although it is possible that the\npeculiarity is due to the great clearness and sharpness of detail that\ncharacterises much of the early Irish work, it may be that this is a\ncase of an introduction into Irish descriptions of Homeric methods.\n\nIt may be also noted that six of Ket's seven rivals are named among the\neighteen Ulster chiefs in the great gathering of Ulster on the Hill of\nSlane before the final battle of the Tain, Angus being the only one\nnamed here who is not in the Hill of Slane list.  Two others in the\nHill of Slane list, Fergus mac Lets and Feidlimid, are mentioned\nelsewhere in this tale.  Several of these are prominent in other tales:\nLaegaire (Leary) is a third with Cuchulain and Conall in the Feast of\nBricriu, and again in the \"Courtship of Emer;\" Cuscrid makes a third\nwith the same two principal champions in the early part of the\n\"Sick-bed;\" Eogan mac Durthacht is the slayer of the sow of Usnach in\nthe old version of that tale; and Celtchar mac Uitechar is the Master\nof the Magic Spear in the \"Bruiden da Derga,\" and has minor romances\npersonal to himself.\n\n\nPAGE 45\n\nThe literal translation of the rhetoric seems to be: Ket. \"Welcome,\nConall! heart of stone: wild glowing fire: sparkle of ice: wrathfully\nboiling blood in hero breast: the scarred winner of victory: thou, son\nof Finnchoem, canst measure thyself with me!\"  Conall. \"Welcome, Ket!\nfirst-born of Mata! a dwelling place for heroes thy heart of ice: end\nof danger (7); chariot chief of the fight: stormy ocean: fair raging\nbull: Ket, Magach's son!  That will be proved if we are in combat: that\nwill be proved if we are separated: the goader of oxen (?) shall tell\nof it: the handcraftsman (?) shall testify of it: heroes shall stride\nto wild lion-strife: man overturns man to-night in this house.\"\n\n\nPAGE 46\n\nThe literal translation of the quatrain is in A.O., p. 63.  The\nquatrain does not occur in the Leinster version.\n\n\nPAGE 47\n\nLine 4.  \"A great oak-tree.\"  After the plucking up of the oak-tree by\nFergus, the Rawlinson MS. adds: \"Others say that it was Curoi mac Dari\nwho took the oak to them, and it was then that he came to them, for\nthere was no man of Munster there (before) except Lugaid the son of\nCuroi and Cetin Pauci.  When Curoi had come to them, he carried off all\nalone one half of the Boar from all the northern half of Ireland.\"\nThis exploit attributed to Curoi is an example of the survival of the\nMunster account of the Heroic Age, part of which may be preserved in\nthe tales of Finn mac Cumhail.\n\n\nPAGE 48\n\nThe Rawlinson manuscript adds, after mentioning the rewards given to\nFerloga But he did not get the serenade (cepoca), though he got the\nhorses.\"  Literal translation of the final poem:\n\n\nO lads of Connaught, I will not fill\nyour heaviness with a lying tale;\na lad, small your portion,\ndivided the Boar of Mac Datho.\n\nThree fifties of fifty men\nare gone with troops of heroes;\ncombat of pride for that Ailbe,\nsmall the fault in the matter of the dog.\nVictorious Conor came (?),\nAilill of the hosts, and Ket;\nBodb over the slaughters after the fight,\nCuchulain conceded no right.\n\nCongal Aidni there from the east,\nFiamain the man of harmony from the sea,\n(he who) suffered in journeys after that\nEogan the son of dark Durthacht.\nthree sons of Nera (famous) for numbers of battle-fields,\nthree sons of Usnach, fierce shields:\n\nSenlaech the charioteer,\nhe was not foolish, (came) from high Conalad Cruachan;\nDubhtach of Emain, high his dignity;\nBerba Baither of the gentle word;\nIllan glorious for the multitude of his deeds;\nfierce Munremur of Loch Sail;\nConall Cernach, hard his valour;\nMarcan . . .\nCeltchar the Ulsterman, man over man;\nLugaid of Munster, son of three dogs.\n\nFergus waits great Ailbe,\nshakes for them the . . . oak,\ntook hero's cloak over very strong shield;\nred sorrow over red shield.\n\nBy Cethern the son of Finntan they were smitten,\nsingle his number at the ford (i.& he was alone);\nthe men of Connaught's host\nhe released not for the time of six hours.\n\nFeidlimid with multitude of troops,\nLoegaire the Triumphant eastwards,\nwas half of complaint about the dog\nwith Aed son of Morna not great.\n\nGreat nobles, mighty (?) deeds,\nhard heroes, fair companions in a house,\ngreat champions, destruction of clans,\ngreat hostages, great sepulchres.\n\n@@line x2?\nIn this poem may be noted the reference to Cuchulain in line x2 in\nclose connection with that to Bodb the Goddess of War, as indicating\nthe original divine nature of Cuchulain as a war-god also the epithet\nof Lugaid, \"son of three dogs.\"  Two of the dogs are elsewhere stated\nto be Cu-roi and Cu-chulain, the third seems uncertain.\n\nLine 26, describing Marcan, seems untranslatable; the Irish is Marcan\nsinna set rod son.  The epithet of the oak in line 32 is also obscure,\nthe Irish is dairbre n-dall.\n\n\n\nTHE SICK-BED OF CUCHULAIN\n\n\nPAGE 57\n\nLine 2.  \"Samhain.\"  Samhain was held on November 1st, and on its eve,\n\"Hallow-e'en\".\n\nThe exhibition of tips of tongues, on the principle of Indian scalps,\nhas nothing at all to do with the story, and is not mentioned in the\nusual descriptions of the romance.  It is a piece of antiquarian\ninformation, possibly correct, and should serve to remind us that the\noriginal form of these legends was probably of a barbaric kind, before\nthey were taken in hand by the literary men who gave to the best forms\nof the romances the character they now have.\n\nLine 23.  For the demons screaming from the weapons of warriors compare\nthe Book of Leinster version of the \"Combat at the Ford\": pages 126,\n143 in this volume.\n\n\nPAGE 58\n\nLine 4.  The delay of Conall and Fergus leads to nothing, it is perhaps\nan introduction from some third form of the story.\n\nLine 19.  Leborcham is, in the story of Deirdre, Deirdre's nurse and\nconfidant.\n\nLine 26.  \"Their three blemishes.\"\nThis disfigurement of the women of Ulster in honour of their chosen\nheroes seems to point to a worship of these heroes as gods in the\noriginal legend.  It may, however, be a sort of rough humour\nintentionally introduced by the author of the form of the story that we\ncall the Antiquarian form; there are other instances of such humour in\nthis form of the story.\n\n\nPAGE 59\n\nLine 2.  \"Like the cast of a boomerang.\"  This is an attempt to\ntranslate the word taithbeim, return-stroke, used elsewhere (L.U.,\n63a., 4) for Cuchulain's method of capturing birds.\n\nLine 8.  \"I deem it as being by me that the distribution was made.\"\nThe words \"I deem it\" are inserted, they are not in the text.  It\nappears that what Ethne meant was that the distribution by Cuchulain\nwas regarded by her as done by her through her husband.\n\n\nPAGE 60\n\nLine 9.  \"Dun Imrith nor yet to Dun Delga.\" Dun Imrith is the castle in\nwhich Cuchulain was when he met the War-Goddess in the \"Apparition of\nthe Morrigan,\" otherwise called the \"Tain bo Regamna.\"  Dun Delga or\nDundalk is the residence usually associated with Cuchulain.  The\nmention of Emer here is noticeable; the usual statement about the\nromance is that Ethne is represented as Cuchulain's mistress, and Emer\nas his wife; the mention here of Emer in the Antiquarian form may\nsupport this; but this form seems to be drawn from so many sources,\nthat it is quite possible that Ethne was the name of Cuchulain's wife\nin the mind of the author of the form which in the main is followed.\nThere is no opposition between Emer and Ethne elsewhere hinted at.\n\nLine 15.  The appearance of Lugaid Red-Stripes gives a reason for his\nsubsequent introduction in the link between the two forms of the story.\n\nLine 18.  \"Near the entrance of the chamber in which Cuchulain lay.\"\nIt does not yet seem certain whether imda was a room or a couch, and it\nwould seem to have both meanings in the Antiquarian form of this story.\n The expression forsind airiniuch na imdai which occurs here might be\nrendered \"at the head of the bed\"; but if we compare i n-airniuch ind\nrigthige which occurs twice in \"Bricriu's Feast,\" and plainly means \"at\nthe entrance of the palace,\" it seems possible that airinech is here\nused in the same sense, in which case imda would mean \"room,\" as\nWhitley Stokes takes it in the \"Bruiden da Derga.\"  On the other hand,\nthe word imda translated on page 63, line 11, certainly means \"couches.\"\n\nLine 27.  \"Ah Cuchulain, &c.\"  Reference may be made for most of the\nverses in this romance to Thurneysen's translation of the greater part\nof it in Sagen aus dem alten Irland but, as some of his renderings are\nnot as close as the verse translations in the text, they require to be\nsupplemented.  The poem on pp. 60, 61 is translated by Thurneysen, pp.\n84 and 85; but the first two lines should run:--\n\n\nAh Cuchulain, under thy sickness\nnot long would have been the remaining.\n\n\nAnd lines 7 and 8 should be:\n\n\nDear would be the day if truly\nCuchulain would come to my land.\n\n\nThe epithet \"fair\" given to Aed Abra's daughters in line 4 by\nThurneysen is not in the Irish, the rest of his translation is very\nclose.\n\nLine 32.  \"Plain of Cruach.\"  Cromm Cruach is the name of the idol\ntraditionally destroyed by St. Patrick in the \"Lives.\"  Cromm Cruach is\nalso described In the Book of Leinster (L.L. 213b) as an idol to whom\nhuman sacrifices were offered.  The name of this plain is probably\nconnected with this god.\n\n\nPAGE 61\n\nLine 30.  \"Hath released her,\" Irish ros leci.  These words are usually\ntaken to mean that Manannan had deserted Fand, and that she had then\nturned to Cuchulain, but to \"desert\" is not the only meaning of lecim.\nIn the second form of the story, Fand seems to have left Manannan, and\nthough of course the two forms are so different that it is not\nsurprising to find a contradiction between the two, there does not seem\nto be any need to find one here; and the expression may simply mean\nthat Manannan left Fand at liberty to pursue her own course, which\ndivine husbands often did in other mythologies. Manannan is, of course,\nthe Sea God, the Celtic Poseidon.\n\n\nPAGE 62\n\nLine 3.  Eogan Inbir (Yeogan the Stream) occurs in the Book of Leinster\nversion of the Book of Invasions as one of the opponents of the Tuatha\nDe Danaan, the Folk of the Gods (L.L. 9b, 45, and elsewhere).\n\nLine 15.  \"Said Liban.\"  The text gives \"said Fand.\"  This seems to be\na scribal slip: there is a similar error corrected on page 79, line 21,\nwhere the word \"Fand\" is written \"Emer\" in the text.\n\nLine 16.  \"A woman's protection.\"  The \"perilous passage,\" passed only\nby a woman's help, occurs elsewhere both in Irish and in other early\nliteratures. See Maelduin, para. 17; Ivain (Chretien de Troyes), vv.\n907 sqq.; and Mabinogion, \"Lady of the Fountain\" (Nutt's edition, p.\n177).\n\nLine 28.  \"Labra.\"  Labraid's usual title, as given to him by Liban in\nboth forms of the romance and once by Laeg in the second description of\nFairyland, is Labraid Luath lamar-claideb, the title being as closely\nconnected with him as {Greek boh`n a?ga\u00f0o`s Mene'laos}with Menelaus in\nHomer.  It is usually translated as \"Labraid quick-hand-on-sword,\" but\nthe Luath need not be joined to lam, it is not in any of the places in\nthe facsimile closely joined to it, and others than Liban give to\nLabraid the title of Luath or \"swift,\" without the addition.\n\nThe literal translation of the short pieces of rhetoric on pages 62, 63\nare,\n\n\n\"Where is Labraid the swift hand-on-sword,\nwho is the head of troops of victory?\n(who) triumphs from the strong frame of his chariot,\nwho reddens red spear-points.\"\n\n\"Labraid the son of swiftness is there,\nhe is not slow, abundant shall be\nthe assembly of war, slaughter is set\nwhen the plain of Fidga shall be full.\"\n\n\"Welcome to thee, O Laeg!\nfor the sake of her with whom thou hast come;\nand since thou hast come,\nwelcome to thee for thyself!\"\n\n\nThe metre of the first two pieces is spirited and unusual.  The second\none runs:\n\n\nAta Labraid luithe cland,\nni ba mall bid immda\ntinol catha, cuirther ar,\nd\u00eda ba Ian Mag Fidgae.\n\n\nPAGE 63\n\nLine 24.  \"Fand.\"  The derivations of the names of Fand and of Aed Abra\nare quite in keeping with the character of the Antiquarian form, and\nwould be out of place in the other form of the romance.  It may perhaps\nbe mentioned that the proper meaning of Abra is \"an eyelash,\" but the\nrendering \"Aed Abra of the Fiery Eyebrows,\" which has been employed in\naccounts of this romance, would convey a meaning that does not seem to\nhave been in the mind of the authors of either of the two forms.\n\nFor the literal translations of the three invocations to Labraid, on\npp. 63, 66, Thurneysen (p. 87) may be referred to; but there would be a\nfew alterations.\n\nIn the first, line 2 should be \"heir of a little host, equipped with\nlight spears,\" if Windisch's Dictionary is to be followed; line 5 would\nseem to begin \"he seeketh out trespasses\" (oirgniu); and line 7 should\nbegin, \"attacker of heroes,\" not \"an attacking troop,\" which hardly\nmakes sense.\n\nIn the second invocation the first line should alter Labraid's title to\n\"Labraid the swift hand-on-sword-of-battle;\" line 3 should end with\n\"wounded his side.\"  In line 6 and again in the third line of the third\ninvocation, Thurneysen translates gus as \"wrath\": Windisch gives the\nword to mean \"strength.\"\n\nLine 4 of the third invocation is rendered \"he pierceth through men\" by\nThurneysen; the Irish is criathraid ocu.  Criathraim is given by\nO'Reilly as meaning \"to sift\": \"he sifteth warriors\" seems a\nsatisfactory meaning, if O'Reilly is to be relied on.\n\n\nPAGE 65\n\nLabraid's answer to the three invocations seems to run thus, but the\ntranslation is doubtful, many words are marked unknown by Windisch: \"I\nhave no pride or arrogance, O lady, nor renown, it is not error, for\nlamentation is stirred our judgment\" (reading na ardarc nid mell, chai\nmescthair with the second MS.), \"we shall come to a fight of very many\nand very hard spears, of plying of red swords in right fists, for many\npeoples to the one heart of Echaid Juil (?), (let be) no anbi of thine\nnor pride, there is no pride or arrogance in me, O lady.\"  I can make\nnothing of Anbi.\n\n\nPAGE 66\n\nThurneysen does not translate the rhetoric; the translation seems to\nrun thus:\n\n\nGreat unprofitableness for a hero to lie\nin the sleep of a sick-bed;\nfor unearthly women show themselves,\nwomen of the people of the fiery plain of Trogach,\nand they have subdued thee,\nand they have imprisoned thee,\nand they have chased thee away (?) amid great womanish folly.\n\nRouse thyself from the contest of distress\n(Gloss, \"the sickness sent by the fairy women\")\nfor all is gone of thy vigour\namong heroes who ride in chariots,\nand thou sittest (?) in the place of the young\nand thou art conquered (? condit chellti if connected with tochell),\nand thou art disturbed (?) in thy mighty deeds,\nfor that which Labraid's power has indicated\nrise up, O man who sittest (?) that thou mayest be great.\n\n\"Chased thee away\" in line 7, for condot ellat, perhaps connected with\ndo-ellaim (?).\n\n\nPAGE 67\n\nThurneysen's translation (p. 91) of Emer's lament may be referred to,\nbut he misses some strong points. Among these are:\n\nLine 5.  \"Woe to Ulster where hospitality abounds.\"\n\nLine 12.  \"Till he found a Druid to lift the weight.\"\n\nLine 25.  \"Were it Furbaide of the heroes.\"\n\nLine 27.  \"The hound would search through the solid earth.\"\n\nLine 29.  \"The hosts of the Sid of Train are dead.\"\n\nLine 30.  \"For the hound of the Smith of Conor.\"\n\nLine 34.  \"Sick for the horseman of the plains.\"\n\nNote the familiarity with the land of the fairies which Laeg is\nasserted to have in the first verse of the poem: this familiarity\nappears more than once in the Literary form of the story.  Laeg speaks\nof the land of Labraid as \"known to him\" in his- first description of\nthat land, again in the same description Laeg is recognised by Labraid\nby his five-folded purple mantle, which seems to have been a\ncharacteristic fairy gift.  Also, Laeg seems at the end of the tale to\nbe the only one to recognise Manannan.  There is no indication of any\nfamiliarity of Laeg with the fairy country in the Antiquarian form.\n\nThe different Ulster heroes alluded to are mostly well-known; all\nexcept Furbaide are in \"Mae Datho's Boar.\"  Furbaide was a son of\nConor; be is one of the eighteen leaders who assemble on the Hill of\nSlane in the \"Tain bo Cuailgne.\"\n\nThe Smith of Conor is of course Culann, from whom Cuchulain got his\nname.\n\n\nPAGES 68, 69\n\nA translation of Emer's \"Awakening of Cuchulain\" may be found in\nThurneysen, p. 92 but there are one or two points that seem to be noted\nas differing from the rendering there given.\n\nLines 3 and 4 seem to mean: \"Look on the king of Macha, on my beauty /\ndoes not that release thee from deep sleep?\"  Thurneysen gives \"Look on\nthe king of Macha, my heart! thy sleep pleases him not.\" Mo crath can\nhardly mean \"my heart.\"\n\nLine 6 is in the Irish deca a churnu co comraim! \"see their horns for\nthe contest!\"  Instead of comraim Thurneysen seems to prefer the\nreading of the second MS., co cormaim, and translates \"their horns full\nof beer.\"  Churnu may mean trumpets as well as drinking-horns, and Emer\nwould hardly call on Cuchulain to throw off a drunken sleep (line 21)\nand then take to beer!\n\nThe following translation of lines 17 to 20 seems preferable to\nThurneysen's:\n\n\n\"Heavy sleep is decay, and no good thing;\nit is fatigue against a heavy war;\nit is 'milk for the satiated,'\nthe sleep that is on thee;\ndeath-weakness is the tanist of death.\"\n\n\nThe last line is tanaisi d'ec ecomnart.  The tanist was the prince who\nstood next to the king; the image seems too good a one to be lost;\nThurneysen translates \"weakness is sister to death.\"\n\nLine 14 seems to mean \"see each wonder wrought by the cold\"; Emer calls\nCuchulain's attention to the icicles which she thinks he is in danger\nof resembling.\n\n\nPAGE 69\n\nFor the literal translation of Liban's invitation see Thurneysen, p. 93.\n\nLine 14 should run: \"Colour of eyes his skin in the fight;\" the\nallusion is, apparently, to a bloodshot eye.\n\n\nPAGE 71\n\nLine 4.  The Plain of Speech (Mag Luada) and the Tree of Triumphs (Bile\nBuada) are apparently part of the Irish mythology; they appear again in\nLaeg's second description of Fairyland, which is an additional reason\nfor keeping this poem where it is in the second version, and not\nfollowing Thurneysen in transferring it to the first.  Mag Luada is\nsometimes translated as \"moving plain,\" apparently deriving the word\nfrom luath, \"swift.\"\n\nLaeg's two descriptions of the Fairyland are (if we except the voyage\nof Bran) the two most definite descriptions of that country in Irish\nliterature.  There is very little extravagance in these descriptions;\nthe marvellously fruitful trees, the ever-flowing vat of mead, and the\nsilver-branched tree may be noted.  Perhaps the trees of \"purple glass\"\nmay be added, but for these, see note on line 30.  The verse\ntranslation has been made to follow the original as closely as\npossible; for a literal translation Thurneysen's versions (pp. 94 and\n88) may be referred to, but some alterations may be made.\n\nThe first description seems to begin thus:\n\n\nI went with noble sportiveness\nto a land wonderful, yet well-known;\nuntil I came to a cairn for twenty of troops\nwhere I found Labraid the Long-haired.\n\nThere I found him on that hill\nsitting among a thousand weapons,\nyellow hair on him with beautiful colour,\nan apple of gold for the confining of it.\n\n\nAnd it ends thus:\n\n\nAlas I that he went not long ago,\nand each cure (should come) at his searching,\nthat he might see how it is\nthe great palace that I saw.\n\nThough all Erin were mine\nand the kingship of yellow Bregia,\nI would resign it; no slight trial;\nfor knowledge of the place to which I came.\n\nThe following points should also be noted:\n\nLine 30 of this first description is tri bile do chorcor glain.  This\nundoubtedly means \"three trees of purple glass\"; but do chorcor glan\nwould mean \"of bright purple\"; and this last rendering, which is quite\na common expression (see Etain, p. 12), has been adopted in the verse\ntranslation.  The order of the words in the expression in the text is\nunusual, and the adoption of them would give an air of artificiality to\nthe description which is otherwise quite absent from it.\n\nLines 37 and 38 run thus:\n\n\nThere are there thrice twenty trees,\ntheir tops meet, and meet not.\n\n\nLines 43, 44, rendering: \"Each with splendid gold fastening well hooked\nthrough its eye,\" are literally \"and a brooch of gold with its\nsplendour in the 'ear' of each cloak.\"  The ears of a cloak, usually\ndescribed as made of the peculiar white bronze, occur elsewhere in the\ntales, and there are different speculations as to their use and\nmeaning.  The most probable explanation is that they were bronze rings\nshaped like ears, and sewn into the cloak; a brooch to fasten the cloak\nbeing passed through the rings.  This explanation has been suggested by\nProfessor Ridgeway, and seems to fit admirably the passages in which\nthese \"ears\" occur.  Compare Fraech, line 33, in the second volume;\nalso the \"Courtship of Ferb\" (Nutt), p. 6.\n\nThere are also a few corrections necessary to Thurneysen's translation\nof the second description.\n\nLines 13 to 20 should run thus:\n\n\nA beautiful band of women;--victory without fetters;--\nare the daughters of Aed Abra;\nthe beauty of Fand is a rushing sound with splendour,\nexceeding the beauty of a queen or king.\n\n\n(The last line is more literally, \"not excepting a queen or, &c.\")\n\n\nI will say, since it hath been heard by me,\nthat the seed of Adam was sinless;\nbut the beauty of Fand up to my time\nhath not found its equal.\n\n\nFor the allusion to Adams sin, compare Etain, p. 26.  Allusions like\nthese show that the tales were composed in Christian times.  There\nseems no reason to suppose them to be insertions, especially in cases\nlike this one, where they come in quite naturally.\n\nLine 21 is literally \"with their arms for slaying\"; not \"who warred on\neach other with weapons\" as in Thurneysen.\n\n\nPAGE 76\n\nFor the cooling of Cuchulain's battle-frenzy with water compare the\nsimilar treatment in the account of his first foray (L.U., 63a; Miss\nFaraday's translation, p. 34).\n\nFor a literal translation of Faud's triumph song over Cuchulain's\nreturn see Thurneysen's translation on page 97 Of the work already\nreferred to.  Thurneysen's translation is very close; perhaps the last\nverse should run: \"Long rain of red blood at the side of the trees, a\ntoken of this proud and masterful, high with wailing is the sorrow for\nhis fiend-like frenzy.\"\n\nThe description of Cuchulain's appearance in verses 5 and 6 seems to\npoint to a conception of him as the sun-god.  Compare the \"sunlike\"\nseat of his chariot on page 79.\n\n\nPAGE 78\n\nThe literal translation of Liban's rhetoric in welcome to Cuchulain\nseems to be, \"Hail to Cuchulain! King who brings help, great prince of\nMurthemne! great his mind; pomp of heroes; battle-triumphing; heart of\na hero; strong rock of skill; blood-redness of wrath; ready for true\nfoes of the hero who has the valour of Ulster (?); bright his\nsplendour; splendour of the eyes of maidens; Hail to Cuchulain!\"\n\nTorc in the second line is glossed in the MS. by \"that is, a king.\"\n\nCuchulain's account of his own battle is omitted by Thurneysen,\npossibly because the account that he gives differs from that in the\ntext, as is pointed out by Windisch, Ir. Text., vol. i. p. 201).  But\nit is quite in keeping with the hero's character that he should try to\nlessen his own glory; and the omission of this account destroys one of\nthe features of the tale.\n\nThe literal rendering is:\n\n\nI threw a cast with my light spear\ninto the host of Eogan the Stream;\nnot at all do I know, though renowned the price,\nthe victory that I have done, or the deed.\n\nWhether he was better or inferior to my strength\nhitherto I chanced not on for my decision,\na throw, ignorance of the man in the mist,\ncertainly he came not away a living man.\n\nA white army, very red for multitudes of horses,\nthey followed after me on every side (?),\npeople of Manannan Mac Lir,\nEogan the Stream called them.\n\nI set out in each manner\nwhen my full strength had come to me;\none man to their thirty, hundreds,\nuntil I brought them to death.\n\nI heard the groan of Echaid Juil,\nlips speak in friendship,\nif it is really true, certainly it was not a fight (?),\nthat cast, if it was thrown.\n\n\nThe idea of a battle with the waves of the sea underlies the third\nverse of this description.\n\n\nPAGE 79\n\nFive pieces of rhetoric follow, all of which are translated by\nThurneysen.  A few alterations may be made, but all of them would be\nsmall ones.  The verse translations given are, it is believed, a little\ncloser to the text than Thurneysen's.  The metres of the first three\npieces are discussed by Professor Rhys in Y Cymmrodor for 1905 (pages\n166, 167).  Professor Rhys reduces the second of these to a hexameter\nfollowed by three pentameters, then a hexameter followed by a\npentameter.  The other two reduce to hexameters mixed with curtailed\nhexameters and pentameters.  The last two pieces of the five, not\nmentioned by Professor Rhys, show a strophic correspondence, which has\nbeen brought out in the verse translation; note especially their\nopenings, and the last line of Emer's speech, cia no triallta, as\nbalancing the last line but four of Cuchulain's speech, cia no\ncomgellta.  The last of these five pieces shows the greatest\ndifferences between the verse and literal translations.  A literal\ntranslation of this would run:\n\n\n\"Wherefore now, O Emer!\" said Cuchulain, \"should I not be permitted to\ndelay with this lady? for first this lady here is bright, pure, and\nclear, a worthy mate for a king; of many forms of beauty is the lady,\nshe can pass over waves of mighty seas, is of a goodly shape and\ncountenance and of a noble race, with embroidery and skill, and with\nhandiwork, with\nunderstanding, and sense, and firmness; with plenty of horses and many\ncattle, so that there is nothing under heaven, no wish for a dear\nspouse that she doth not.  And though it hath been promised (?), Emer,\"\nhe said, \"thou never shalt find a hero so beautiful, so scarred with\nwounds, so battle-triumphing, (so worthy) as I myself am worthy.\"\n\n\nPAGE 81\n\nLine 11.  \"Fair seems all that's red, &c.,\" is literally \"fair is each\nred, white is each new, beautiful each lofty, sour is each known,\nrevered is each thing absent, failure is each thing accustomed.\"\n\nFor a translation of the poem in which Fand resigns Cuchulain reference\nmay be made to Thurneysen (p. 101).  A more accurate translation of the\nfirst verse seems to run thus:\n\n\nI am she who will go on a journey\nwhich is best for me on account of strong compulsion;\nthough there is to another abundance of her fame,\n(and) it were dearer to me to remain.\n\n\nLine 16 of poem, translated by Thurneysen \"I was true and held my\nword,\" is in the original daig is misi rop iran.  Iran is a doubtful\nword, if we take it as a form of aur-an, aur being the intensitive\nprefix, a better translation may be, \"I myself was greatly glowing.\"\n\n\nPAGE 82\n\nLine 26.  \"The lady was seized by great bitterness of mind,\" Irish ro\ngab etere moir. The translation of etere is doubtful.\n\n\nPAGE 83\n\nFor the final poem, in which Fand returns to Manannan, reference may as\nbefore be made to Thurneysen's translation; but a few changes may be\nnoted:\n\nLine 1 should be, \"See the son of the hero people of the Sea.\"\n\nLine 5 seems to be, \"Although\" (lit. \"if\") \"it is to-day that his cry\nis excellent.\"\n\nLine 7 is a difficult one.  Thurneysen gives, \"That indeed is the\ncourse of love,\" apparently reading rot, a road, in place of ret; but\nhe leaves eraise untranslated; the Irish is is eraise in ret in t-serc.\n Might not eraise be \"turning back,\" connected with eraim, and the line\nrun: \"It is turning back of the road of love\"?\n\nLines 13 to 16 are omitted by Thurneysen.  They seem to mean:\n\n\nWhen the comely Manannan took me,\nhe was to me a fitting spouse;\nnor did he at all gain me before that time,\nan additional stake (?) at a game at the chess.\n\n\nThe last line, cluchi erail (lit. \"excess\") ar fidchill, is a difficult\nallusion.  Perhaps the allusion is to the capture of Etain by Mider as\nprize at chess from her husband.  Fand may be claiming superiority over\na rival fairy beauty.\n\nLines 17 and 18 repeat lines 13 and 14.\n\nLines 46 and 47 are translated by Thurneysen, \"Too hard have I been\noffended; Laeg, son of Riangabra, farewell,\" but there is no \"farewell\"\nin the Irish.  The lines seem to be: \"Indeed the offence was great, O\nLaeg, O thou son of Riangabra,\" and the words are an answer to Laeg,\nwho may be supposed to try to stop her flight.\n\n\nPAGE 85\n\nLine 24.  \"That she might forget her jealousy,\" lit. \"a drink of\nforgetfulness of her jealousy,\" deoga dermait a heta.  The translation\nseems to be an accepted one, and certainly gives sense, but it is\ndoubtful whether or not eta can be regarded as a genitive of et,\n\"jealousy \"; the genitive elsewhere is eoit.\n\nThere is a conclusion to this romance which is plainly added by the\ncompiler: it is reproduced here, to show the difference between its\nstyle and the style of the original author:\n\n\n\"This then was a token given to Cuchulain that he should be destroyed\nby the People of the Mound, for the power of the demons was great\nbefore the advent of the Faith; so great was that power that the demons\nwarred against men in bodily form, and they showed delights and secret\nthings to them; and that those demons were co-eternal was believed by\nthem.  So that from the signs that they showed, men called them the\nIgnorant Folk of the Mounds, the People of the Sid.\"\n\n\n\nTHE EXILE OF THE SONS OF USNACH\n\n\nPAGE 91\n\nThe four pieces of rhetoric, at the beginning of this text are\ntranslated by Thurneysen, Sagen aus dem alten Irland, pp. 11 and 12.\nIn the first, third, and fourth of those, the only difference of any\nimportance between the text adopted and Thurneysen's versions is the\nthird line of the third piece, which perhaps should run: \"With stately\neyes with blue pupils,\" segdaib suilib sellglassaib, taking the text of\nthe Yellow Book of Lecan.\n\nThe second piece appears to run as follows:\n\n\nLet Cathbad hear, the fair one, with face that all love,\nthe prince, the royal diadem, let he who is extolled be increased\nby druid arts of the Druid:\nbecause I have no words of wisdom\nto oppose (?) to Feidlimid,\nthe light of knowledge;\nfor the nature of woman knows not\nwhat is under her body,\n(or) what in the hollow of my womb cries out.\n\n\nThese rhetorics are remarkable for the great number of the\nalliterations in the original.\n\n\nPAGE 93\n\nThurneysen omits a verse of Cathbad's poem.  A translation of the whole\nseems to run thus:\n\n\nDeirdre, great cause of destruction,\nthough thou art fair of face, famous, pale,\nUlster shall sorrow in thy time,\nthou hidden (?) daughter of Feidlimid.\n\n\nWindisch's Dict. gives \"modest daughter\" in the last line; the original\nis ingen fial.  But the word might be more closely connected with fial,\n\"a veil.\"  \"Modest\" is not exactly the epithet that one would naturally\napply to the Deirdre of the Leinster version, and the epithet of\n\"veiled\" or \"hidden\" would suit her much better, the reference being to\nher long concealment by Conor.\n\n\nThere shall be mischief yet afterwards\non thy account, O brightly shining woman,\nhear thou this! at that time shall be\nthe exile of the three lofty sons of Usnach.\n\nIt is in thy time that a violent deed\nshall be done thereupon in Emain,\nyet afterwards shall it repent the violation\nof the safeguard of the mighty son of Rog.\n\n\nDo foesam is read in the last verse, combining the Leinster and the\nEgerton texts.\n\n\nIt is through thee, O woman with excellence,\n(is) the exile of Fergus from the Ulstermen,\nand a deed from which weeping will come,\nthe wound of Fiachna, the son of Conor.\n\n\nFiachna. is grandson to Conor in the Book of Leinster account of the\nbattle. Fiacha is Conor's son in the Glenn Masain version.\n\n\nIt is thy fault, O woman with excellence,\nthe wound of Gerrc son of Illadan,\nand a deed of no smaller importance,\nthe slaying of Eogan mac Durthacht.\n\n\nThere is no account of the slaying of Eogan in the Book of Leinster\nversion; and Eogan appears on the Hill of Slane in the Ulster army in\nthe War of Cualgne.  The sequel to the Glenn Masain version, however,\ndescribes Eogan's death at the hand of Fergus (Celtic Review, Jan.\n1905, p. 227).\n\n\nThou shalt do a deed that is wild and hateful\nfor wrath against the king of noble Ulster;\nthy little grave shall be in that place,\nthy tale shall be renowned, O Deirdre.\n\n\nPAGE 95\n\nLine 13.  \"Release me, O my wife!\" eirgg uaim a ben.  It is suggested\nthat the vocative ben is \"wife,\" not \"woman.\"  It occurs in seven other\nplaces besides this in Windisch's Dictionary, and in six of these it\nmeans wife (Emer is addressed as wife of Cuchulain in a deig-ben, in\n\"Sick-bed,\" 44).  In the remaining case (\"Fled Bricrend,\" 31) the word\nis abbreviated, and stands b in the text, which might be for be, \"O\nlady,\" though we should have then expected the accent. I suggest that\nNaisi, by giving to Deirdre the name of \"wife,\" accepts her offer, for\nno other sign of acceptance is indicated, and the subsequent action\nshows that she is regarded as his wife afterwards.\n\nLine 30.  \"Near to Ballyshannon,\" and \"which men to-day call the\nMountain of Howth,\" are inserted as the modern names of the places.\nThe words correspond to nothing in the Irish.\n\n\nPAGE 97\n\nLine 13.  \"Fiacha.\"  Fiacha, the son of Fergus, corresponds to Illan in\nthe better known version.  There is no one in this version who\ncorresponds to the traitor son, Buinne.\n\n\nPAGE 98\n\nThe \"Lament of Deirdre,\" one of the finest of the older Irish poems,\nhas been rendered by Thurneysen and by others, among which should be\nspecially mentioned Miss Hull, in the Cuchullin Saga, pp. 50-51.\nO'Curry's and O'Flanagan's versions seem to be very far from correct,\nand it will be more convenient to give that literal translation which\nseems nearest to the original, instead of indicating divergencies.  The\nliteral translation adopted runs as follows:\n\n\nThough fair to you seems the keen band of heroes\nwho march into Emain that they lately left (lit \"after departing\"),\nmore stately was the return to their home\nof the three heroic sons of Usnach.\n\nNaisi, with mead of delicious hazel-nuts\n(came), to be bathed by me at the fire,\nArdan, with an ox or boar of excellence,\nAindle, a faggot on his stately back.\n\nThough sweet be the excellent mead to you\nwhich is drunk by the son of Ness, the rich in strife,\nthere has been known to me, ere now, leaping over a bank,\nfrequent sustenance which was sweeter.\n\n\nLine 3 of the above stanza seems to be baithium riam reim for bra,\ntaking reim from the Egerton text.  The allusion is to a cascade.\n\n\nWhen the noble Naisi spread out\na cooking-hearth on hero-board of tree,\nsweeter than any food dressed under honey[FN#69]\nwas what was captured by the son of Usnach.\n\n\n[FN#69]  For \"food dressed under honey\" compare Fraech, line 544, in\nthe second volume.\n\n\nThough melodious to you each month\n(are the) pipers and horn-blowers,\nit is my open statement to you to-day\nI have heard melody sweeter far than these.\n\nFor Conor, the king, is melody\npipers and blowers of horns,\nmore melodious to me, renowned, enchanting\nthe voice given out by the sons of Usnach.\n\nLike the sound of the wave the voice of Naisi,\nit was a melodious sound, one to hearken to for ever,\nArdan was a good barytone,\nthe tenor of Aindle rang through the dwelling-place.\n\nNaisi is laid in his tomb,\nsad was the protection that he got;\nthe nation by which he was reared poured out\nthe cup of poison by which he died.\n\nDear is Berthan, beautiful its lands,\nstately the men, though hilly the land,\nit is sorrowful that to-day I rise not\nto await the sons of Usnach.\n\nDear the mind, firm, upright,\ndear the youth, lofty, modest,\nafter going with him through the dark wood\ndear the girding (?) at early morning.\n\nDear his gray eye, which women loved,\nit was evil-looking against enemies,\nafter circuit of the wood (was) a noble assembly,\ndear the tenor through the dark wood.\n\nI sleep not therefor,\nand I stain not my nails with red,\njoy comes not to my wakefulness,\nfor the sons of Usnach return not.\n\n\nThe last line is the Egerton reading.\n\n\nI sleep not\nfor half the night on my bed,\nmy mind wanders amidst clouds of thoughts,\nI eat not, nor smile.\n\nThere is no leisure or joy for me\nin the assemblies of eastern Emain;\nthere is no peace, nor pleasure, nor repose\nin beholding fine houses or splendid ornaments.\n\nWhat, O Conor, of thee?\nfor me only sorrow under lamentation hast thou prepared,\nsuch will be my life so long as it remains to me,\nthy love for me will not last.\n\nThe man who under heaven was fairest to me,\nthe man who was so dear\nthou hast torn from me; great was the crime;\nso that I shall not see him until I die.\n\nHis absence is the cause of grief to me,\nthe shape of the son of Usnach shows itself to me,\na dark hill is above his white body\nwhich was desired before many things by me.\n\nHis ruddy cheeks, more beautiful than meadows (?),\nred lips, eyebrows of the colour of the chafer,\nhis teeth shining like pearls,\nlike noble colour of snow.\n\nWell have I known his splendid garb\namong the warrior men of Alba;\nmantle of crimson, meet for an assembly,\nwith a border of red gold.\n\nHis tunic of satin of costly price,\non it a hundred pearls could be counted, goodly the number\n(lit. \"a smooth number\" ? a round number),\nfor its embroidery had been used, it was bright,\nfifty ounces of findruine (i.e. white bronze).\n\nA gold-hilted sword in his hand,\ntwo green spears with terrible points (?),\na shield with border of yellow gold,\nand a boss of silver upon it.\n\nFair Fergus brought injury upon us\nwhen inducing us to cross the sea;\nhe has sold his honour for ale,\nthe glory of his high deeds is departed.\n\nIf there were upon this plain\nthe warriors of Ulster in the presence of Conor,\nall of them would I give up without a struggle\nfor the companionship of Naisi, the son of Usnach.\n\nBreak not to-day my heart (O Conor!),\nsoon shall I reach my early grave,\nstronger than the sea is my grief,\ndost thou not know it, O Conor?\n\n\nPAGE 103\n\nFor the literal translations of the poems in the Glenn Masain version\nsee\nWhitley Stokes in Irische Texte, ii. 2, 172 sqq.\n\nStanzas 13 to 16 are not in LVI. (the manuscript which is the second\nauthority used by Stokes for this version, and is the chief authority\nfor this part of the version).  They are in the manuscript that Stokes\ncalls II.  (the version used by O'Flanagan), which, like LVI., agrees\npretty closely with the Glenn Masain text so far as the latter\nmanuscript extends.\n\nStanza 22 is also from O'Flanagan's manuscript.  This verse is not\ntranslated by Stokes, but it seems worth inserting.  The literal\ntranslation of it is:\n\n\nI am Deirdre without joy,\nit is for me the end of my life;\nsince to remain behind them is the worst thing,\nnot long life to myself.\n\n\nPAGE 107\n\nLine 21. Two passages, one describing Fergus' sons born in Connaught,\nthe other summing up his deeds, are omitted, as it is not intended to\nreproduce this version in full.\n\n\n\nTHE COMBAT AT THE FORD\n\n\nThe well-known translation by O'Curry of this part of the Book of\nLeinster version of the \"Tain bo Cuailgne\" is given in the third volume\nof his \"Manners and Customs,\" pp. 414-463.  There are, as has often\nbeen pointed out, many inaccuracies in the translation, and the present\nversion does not claim to correct all or even the greater part of them;\nfor the complete version of the Great Tain by Windisch which has so\nlong eagerly been expected should give us a trustworthy text, and the\npresent translation is in the main founded on O'Curry; to whose version\nreference may be made for literal translations for such parts of the\nverse passages as are not noted below.  A few more obvious corrections\nhave been made; most of those in the prose will appear by comparing the\nrendering with O'Curry's; some of the corrections in the literal\nversions adopted for the poems are briefly indicated.  Two poems have\nbeen literally translated in full: in these the renderings which have\nno authority other than O'Curry's are followed by a query, in order to\ngive an indication of the extent to which the translation as given may\nfor the present be regarded as uncertain.  For all the more valuable of\nthe corrections made to O'Curry's translation I am indebted to the\nkindness of Mr. E. J. Quiggin, Fellow of Caius College, Cambridge.\n\n\nPAGE 118\n\nLine 7 Of the first stanza.  O'Curry gives this as \"Thou hast come out\nof every strife,\" which seems to be an impossible rendering; \"Take\nwhatever is thy will\" seems to be nearer the sense of the passage, and\nhas been adopted.\n\nLines 5 to 8 of the fourth stanza are very uncertain; and the\ntranslation given, which is in part based upon O'Curry, is very\ndoubtful; a more trustworthy one has not, however, been arrived at.\n\nLine 4 of the fifth stanza in O'Curry's rendering means \"Here is what\nthou wilt not earn,\" i.e. \"We can pay more than a full reward for thy\nservices.\"\n\nLines 5 and 6 of the sixth stanza should be, \"If my request be granted\nme I will advance, though I am not his match.\"\n\nLine 2 Of the eighth stanza, \"Not thine a pleasant smile for a\nconsort.\"  Brachail in the next line is \"guardian.\"\n\nLine 10 of the last stanza. Elgga is one of the names of Ireland.\n\n\nPAGE 121\n\nLine 1.  Maeth n-araig, \"in an easy task,\" the force of which O'Curry\nseems to miss, translating it \"as he thought.\"\n\nThere are several changes to make in O'Curry's rendering of the\ndialogue between Fergus and Cuchulain.  It should run thus:\n\n\nF. O Cuchulain, manifest is the bargain,\nI see that rising is timely for thee;\nhere comes to thee in anger\nFerdiad, son of Daman, of the ruddy face.\n\nC. I am here, it is no light task\nvaliantly delaying the men of Erin;\nI have not yielded a foot in retreat\nto shun the combat of any one man.\n\nF. Fierce is the man in his excited (?) rage\nbecause of his blood-red sword:\na horny skin is about Ferdiad of the troops,\nagainst it prevails not battle or combat.\n\nC. Be silent, urge not thy story,\nO Fergus of the powerful weapons!\non any field, on any ground,\nthere is no unequal fight for me.\n\nF. Fierce is the man, a war for twenties,\nit is not easy to vanquish him,\nthe strength of a hundred in his body, valiant his deed (?),\nspears pierce him not, swords cut him not.\n\nC. Should we happen to meet at a ford (i.e. a field of battle),\nI and Ferdiad of well-known valour,\nthe separation shall not be without history,\nfierce shall be our edge-combat.\n\nF. Better would it be to me than reward,\nO Cuchulain of the blood-stained sword,\nthat it was thou who carried eastward\nthe spoils (coscur, not corcur) of the proud Ferdiad.\n\nC. I give thee my word with boasting,\nthough I am not good at bragging,\nthat it is I who shall gain the victory\nover the son of Daman, the son of Dare.\n\nF. It is I who gathered the forces eastwards\nin revenge for my dishonour by the men of Ulster;\nwith me they have come from their lands,\ntheir champions and their battle warriors.\n\nC. If Conor had not been in his sickness\nhard would have been his nearness to thee;\nMedb of Magh in Scail had not made\nan expedition of so loud boastings.\n\nF. A greater deed awaits thy hand,\nbattle with Ferdiad son of Daman,\nhardened bloody weapons, friendly is my speech,\ndo thou have with thee, O Cuchulain!\n\n\nPAGE 124\n\nLine 7 of O'Curry's rendering of the first stanza should run: \"So that\nhe may take the point of a weapon through him.\"\n\nStanza 2 of the poem should run thus:\n\n\nIt would be better for thee to stay,\nthy threats will not be gentle,\nthere will be some one who shall have sickness on that account,\ndistressful will be thy departure\nto encounter the Rock of Ulster;\nand ill may this venture turn out;\nlong will be the remembrance of it,\nwoe shall be to him who goeth that journey.\n\n\nLine 4 of the next stanza, \"I will not keep back to please you.\"\n\n\nPAGE 126\n\nThe literal rendering of the poem seems to be:\n\n\nI hear the creaking of a chariot\nwith a beautiful silver yoke,\nthe figure of a man with perfection\n(rises) from the wheels of the stout chariot;\nover Breg Row, over Braine\nthey come (?), over the highway\nbeside the lower part of the Burg of the Trees;\nit (the chariot?) is triumphant for its victories.\n\nIt is a heroic (?) hound who drives it,\nit is a trusty charioteer who yokes it,\nit is a noble hawk who scourges\nhis horses to the south:\nhe is a stubborn hero,\nhe is certain (to cause) heavy slaughter,\nit is well-known that not with indexterity (?)\nis the bringing of the battle to us.\n\nWoe for him who shall be upon the hillock\nwaiting for the hound who is fitly framed (lit. in harmony\");\nI myself declared last year\nthat there would come, though it be from somewhere, a hound\nthe Hound of Emain Macha,\nthe Hound with a form on which are hues of all colours,\nthe Hound of a territory, the Hound of battle;\nI hear, we have heard.\n\nAs a second rendering of the above in a metre a little closer to the\noriginal than that given in the text, the following may be suggested:\n\n\nShrieks from war-car wake my hearing,\nSilver yokes are nigh appearing;\nHigh his perfect form is rearing,\nHe those wheels who guides!\nBraina, Braeg Ross past it boundeth,\nTriumph song for conquests soundeth,\nLo! the roadway's course it roundeth,\nSkirting wooded sides.\n\nHero Hound the scourge hard plieth,\nTrusty servant yoke-strap tieth,\nSwift as noble hawk, he flieth,\nSouthward urging steeds!\nHardy chief is he, and story\nSoon must speak his conquests gory,\nGreat for skilful war his glory;\nWe shall know his deeds!\n\nThou on hill, the fierce Hound scorning,\nWaitest; woe for thee is dawning;\nFitly framed he comes, my warning\nSpoke him thus last year:\n\"Emain's Hound towards us raceth,\nGuards his land, the fight he faceth,\nEvery hue his body graceth:\"\nWhom I heard, I hear.\n\n\nPAGE 127\n\nIn O'Curry's rendering of the dialogue between Ferdia and his servant,\nline 3 should be, \"That it be not a deed of prophecy,\" not \"a deferred\ndeed\"; and line 6, With his proud sport.\"\n\nLast stanza of the poem:\n\n\nIt seems thou art not without rewards,\nso greatly hast thou praised him;\nwhy else hast thou extolled him\never since I left my house?\nthey who now extol the man\nwhen he is in their sight\ncome not to attack him,\nbut are cowardly churls.\n\n\nPAGE 128\n\nLine 34.  \"As a hawk darts up from the furrow.\"  O'Curry gives \"from\nthe top of a cliff.\"  The word in the Irish is claiss.\n\n\nPAGE 129\n\nThe metre of this poem, which is also the metre of all the preceeding\npoems except the second in this romance, but does not occur elsewhere\nin the collection, may be illustrated by quoting the original of the\nfifth verse, which runs as follows:\n\n\nRe funiud, re n-aidchi\nMadit eicen airrthe,\nComrac dait re bairche,\nNi ba ban in gleo:\nUlaid acot gairmsiu,\nRa n-gabartar aillsiu,\nBud olc doib in taidbsiu\nRachthair thairsiu is treo.\n\n\nLiteral translation of the first two stanzas:\n\n\nWhat has brought thee here, O Hound,\nto fight with a strong champion?\ncrimson-red shall flow thy blood\nover the breaths of thy steeds;\nwoe is thy journey:\nit shall be a kindling of fuel against a house,\nneed shalt thou have of healing\nif thou reach thy home (alive).\n\nI have come before warriors\nwho gather round a mighty host-possessing prince,\nbefore battalions, before hundreds,\nto put thee under the water,\nin anger with thee, and to slay thee\nin a combat of hundreds of paths of battle,\nso that thine shall the injury\nas thou protectest thy head.\n\n\nLine 2 of the fifth stanza, \"Good is thy need of height.\"\n\nLine 8 of the seventh stanza, \"Without valour, without strength.\"\n\n\nPAGE 133\n\nLine 3.  Literally: \"Whatever be the excellence of her beauty.\" A\nsimilar literal translation for page 138, line 10, of the dialogue; the\nsame line occurs in verse 3 on page 148, but is not rendered in the\nverse translation.\n\n\nPAGE 134\n\nLine 18.  \"O Cuchulain! for beautiful feats renowned.\"  O'Curry gives\nthis as prose, but it is clearly verse in the original.\n\n\nPAGE 138\n\nLines 5, 6 of dialogue.  \"O Cuchulain! who art a breeder of wounds\"\n(lit. \"pregnant with wounds\"); \"O true warrior! O true\" (?accent\nprobably omitted) \"champion!\"\n\nLines 7, 8.  \"There is need for some one\" (i.e. himself) \"to go to the\nsod where his final resting-place shall be.\"  The Irish of line 7 is is\neicen do neoch a thecht, which O'Curry translates \"a man is constrained\nto come,\" and he is followed by Douglas Hyde, who renders the two lines:\n\n\nFate constrains each one to stir,\nMoving towards his sepulchre.\n\n\nBut do neoch cannot possibly mean \"every man,\" it means \"some man;\"\nusually the person in question is obvious.  Compare page 125 of this\nromance, line 3, which is literally: \"There will be some one who shall\nhave sickness on that account,\" biaid nech diamba galar, meaning, as\nhere, Ferdia.\n\nThe line is an explanation of Ferdia's appearance, and is not a moral\nreflection.\n\nLine 29.  \"O Cuchulain! with floods of deeds of valour,\" or \"brimming\nover with deeds, &c.\"\n\n\nPAGE 141\n\nLine 9.  \"Four jewels of carbuncle.\"  This is the reading of H. 2, 17;\nT.C.D; which O'Curry quotes as an alternative to \"forty\" of the Book of\nLeinster.  \"Each one of them fit to adorn it\" is by O'Curry translated\n\"in each compartment.\"  The Irish is a cach aen chumtach: apparently\n\"for each one adornment.\"\n\n\nPAGE 144\n\nLine 8 of poem.  \"Alas for the departing of my ghost.\"\n\n\nPAGE 146\n\nLines 1, 2.  \"Though he had struck off the half of my leg that is\nsound, though he had smitten off half my arm.\"\n\n\nPAGE 148\n\nLine 5.  \"Since he whom Aife bore me,\" literally \"Never until now have\nI met, since I slew Aife's only son, thy like in deeds of battle, never\nhave I found it, O Ferdia.\"  This is O'Curry's rendering; if it is\ncorrect, and it seems to be so substantially, the passage raises a\ndifficulty.  Aife's only son is, according to other records, Conlaoch,\nson of Cuchulain and Aife, killed by his father, who did not at the\ntime know who Conlaoch was.  This battle is usually represented as\nhaving taken place at the end of Cuchulain's life; but here it is\nrepresented as preceding the War of Cualgne, in which Cuchulain himself\nis represented to be a youth.  The allusion certainly indicates an\nearly date for the fight with Conlaoch, and if we are to lay stress on\nthe age of Cuchulain at the time of the War, as recorded in the Book of\nLeinster, of whose version this incident is a part, the \"Son of Aife\"\nwould not have been a son of Cuchulain at all in the mind of the writer\nof this verse.  It is possible that there was an early legend of a\nfight with the son of Aife which was developed afterwards by making him\nthe son of Cuchulain; the oldest version of this incident, that in the\nYellow Book of Lecan, reconciles the difficulty by making Conlaoch only\nseven years old when he took up arms; this could hardly have been the\noriginal version.\n\nLine 23 of poem is literally: \"It is like thrusting a spear into sand\nor against the sun.\"\n\nThe metre of the poem \"Ah that brooch of gold,\" and of that on page\n144, commencing \"Hound, of feats so fair,\" are unique in this\ncollection, and so far as I know do not occur elsewhere.  Both have\nbeen reproduced in the original metre, and the rather complicated\nrhyme-system has also been followed in that on page 148.  The first\nverse of the Irish of this is\n\n\nDursan, a eo oir\na Fhirdiad na n-dam\na belc bemnig buain\nba buadach do lamh.\n\n\nThe last syllable of the third line has no rhyme beyond the echo in the\nsecond syllable of the next line; oir, \"gold,\" has no rhyme till the\nword is repeated in the third line of the third verse, rhymed in the\nsecond line of the fourth, and finally repeated at the end.  The second\nverse has two final words echoed, brass and maeth; it runs thus\n\n\nDo barr bude brass\nba cass, ba cain set;\ndo chriss duillech maeth\nimmut taeb gu t-ec.\n\n\nThe rhymes in the last two verses are exactly those of the\nreproduction, they are cain sair, main, laim, chain, the other three\nend rhymes being oir, choir, and oir.\n\nLine 3 of this poem is \"O hero of strong-striking blows.\"\n\nLine 4.  \"Triumphant was thine arm.\"\n\n\nPAGE 149\n\nLines 11 and 12 of the poem.  \"Go ye all to the swift battle that shall\ncome to you from German the green-terrible\" (? of the terrible green\nspear).\n\n\nPAGE 150\n\nLine 12.  The Torrian Sea is the Mediterranean.\n\n\nPAGE 151\n\nLine 15.  Literally: \"Thou in death, I alive and nimble.\"\n\nLine 23.  \"Wars were gay, &c.\"  Cluchi cach, gaine cach, \"Each was a\ngame, each was little,\" taking gaine as gainne, the known derivative of\ngand, \"scanty.\" O'Curry gives the meaning as \"sport,\" and has been\nfollowed by subsequent translators, but there does not seem any\nconfirmation of this rendering.\n\n\nPAGE 153\n\nLine 10.  Banba is one of the names of Ireland.\n\n\n\nEND OF VOL. I.","title":"Heroic Romances of Ireland, Translated into English Prose and Verse \u2014 Volume 1","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":66246}