Chapter X: Book VIII

The Four Great Fifths beside Ath Gowla so
Remained that night; and so with histories,
Recounting notable things, Al-yill and Maev
With all the kings and chieftains whiled away
The fore-part of that night. And if thereafter
Upon the men of Ulster there was joy
And gladness and delight of mind and spirit,—
Upon the chiefs of Erin there was grief,
Because they knew the youth who had performed
Those things recounted would perform yet greater
Before them in the land whereto they journeyed,
The land of Cooley. When the glorious sun
Next morn filled up with light each hollow glen
Throughout the lands of Erin, Al-yill said:
“Let us move forward.” Then they crossed Ath Gowla,
And moved along through the long forest-pass.
Cucullin went before them where they went.
He felled an oak athwart the forest-passage
Ahead of them; and on its side he wrote
In ogam that ’twas gass on any man
To go beyond it till some chariot-rider
Should leap it with his chariot. The hosts pitched
Their tents in front of it; and chariot-riders
Went in their chariots to o’erleap it. Thirty
Good steeds fell there; and thirty chariots there
Were broken wretchedly. The Pass of Awny,—
That is the name upon that pass for ever.
They stayed there till the morrow’s dawning-time.
Then Maev procured that Frae, the glistering,
Strong son of Eedath, should be brought to her.
“Help us, O Frae,” said Maev, “remove from us
This strait and hindrance. Rise from us. Go forth,
That thou perchance mayst fight and slay Cucullin.”
Frae at that early dawning-hour went forth:
He took with him eight others: he arrived
Beside Ath Foo-id and descried the youth
At bathing in the pure, cold river there.
“Bide for me here,” Frae said then to his people,
“While I myself go to yon man ye see.
The water is not good,” said he. He flung
His raiment from him then; and he stepped forth
Into the ice-cold stream to meet Cucullin.
“Come not against me, Frae, bright son of Eedath,”
Cucullin cried to him, “for thou wilt die
Thereby, and it were grief with me to slay thee.”
“Against thee I will go,” Frae said to him;
“Here in this snow-cold stream we two will combat;
And let thy fight with me be fair and noble.”
“Whatever mode of fight seems best to thee,”
Cucullin said, “that choose thou.” Frae replied:
“The arm of each, then, round his fellow’s body
Is what I choose.” They wrestled a long time,
With powerful grips each round his fellow’s body,
There in that water. Frae was then submerged.
Cucullin raised him to the air and said
With courtesy: “I raise thee up again,
O Frae, bright son of Eedath. Own thou now
That I have won; accept thou from me now
This sparing of thy life.” Frae answered him:
“I own it not; and I accept it not.”
Cucullin put him under once again,
Until Frae died of that. His form was brought
Out from the water to the river’s brink,
Drowned, without life; and his own people bore him
Away, till they had reached the camp and hosting.
Ath Frae, “the Ford of Frae,” then, is the name
Which has been given for ever to that ford
Wherein Frae died. The camp and hosting all
Cried out with grief for Frae the son of Eedath.
Findabair daughter of Maev and Al-yill
Wept in still grief, seeing him drowned and pale,
And thinking of that beauty which he had
That day when in his sparkling bright array
He had approached to woo, and of the beauty
Which was upon him on that other day
When she herself had swum the dark-pooled stream
To succour and to aid him. Soon the hosts
Perceived a band of women, robed in innars
Of pure grass-green, come to that drowned, pale form
Of Frae the son of Eedath; and these drew him
With them away into the green Shee-mound,
Where, with her sister Boyne, his mother Baefinn
Dwelt ’midst the deathless Shee. Then, with his chariot,
Fergus the son of Roy leapt the felled oak.
The hosts moved on until they reached Ard Ahad.
Cucullin there slew six, six Dungalls, namely,
From Irrus Domnann in the far-off west.
And the hosts moved until they reached Drum Saulinn.
There was with Maev upon that hosting then
A little much-loved whelp: its name was Bashny.
Cucullin, going before them where they went,
Launched from his sling, from his cranntowl, a stone,
Which, striking to the mid-part of their camp
Upon Drum Saulinn, struck from Maev’s whelp its head.
That Maev took very grievously. She said:
“Great is the mockery and shame to you,
O men, that ye do not pursue and hunt
That wild deer of misfortune, who each day
Is slaying some of you!” Then many warriors
Fell to pursuing him and hunting him,
Until at hunting him they broke the poles
And hind-shafts of their chariots. And the hosts
In the meantime moved on and reached Drum Keen.
Cucullin, near by, there, in the red morn,
At milking-time, heard from a holly-forest
The sounds of breaking boughs. “Alas! O Laeg,”
Cucullin said to his good charioteer:
“It is too bold a mode in the Ultonians,
If it be they who thus hew down their forests
In front of the Four Fifths of Erin. Therefore,
Wait here awhile, good Laeg, while I go hence
To see who cuts the forests.” Then Cucullin
Went to that place whence he had heard the sounds
Of breaking boughs, and found a gillie there.
“Who art thou, gillie, and what dost thou here?”
Cucullin said to him. The gillie answered:
“I am the charioteer to Orlam son
Of Al-yill and of Maev; and I am cutting
New holly chariot-shafts, because our shafts
Were shattered yesterday while we were hunting
That famed wild deer, Cucullin; and, brave youth,
By all the honour of thy bravery,
Help me to finish, lest that famed Cucullin
Should come upon me here.” “Thy choice, O gillie,”
Cucullin said, “shall I cut down the poles
For thee, or trim them?” “I myself will cut them,”
The gillie said, “for it is easier.”
Cucullin then began to trim the poles.
He took one by its upper end and dragged it
Betwixt his toes and then betwixt his fingers,
Against its branches and excrescences,
Till he had trimmed, and shaped, and smoothened it,
And polished it, so that not even a fly
Could stay on it; and then he laid it from him.
And each rough pole he in that fashion trimmed.
The gillie looked at him, and said: “I think
This work which I have given thee to do
Is not thy daily work. Who, in all Erin,
Art thou, O youth?” Cucullin said to him:
“I am that famed wild deer, even Cucullin,
Of whom thou spak’st at morn, at milking-time.”
“Woe on me then!” exclaimed the charioteer.
“I die by that until the Breast of Doom.”
“Fear not, O gillie,” said Cucullin. “Never
Slay I good charioteers or messengers,
Or folk unarmed. But tell me in what place
Thy lord is, namely, Orlam.” “At yon grave-hill,”
The gillie said. “Go to him,” said Cucullin.
“Carry him warning. Tell him to have fear.
If I shall reach him, he by me shall fall.”
The charioteer thereat went towards his lord.
He took the nearest way through the dense forest;
But howe’er rapidly he went, Cucullin,
Taking a longer way through the same forest,
Arrived more rapidly. He cut the head
From Orlam son of Al-yill and of Maev;
And, from the grave-hill since called Tamlaht Orlam,
He toward the hosts of Erin brandished it.
The hosts moved on until they reached Ard Keenaht.
And then it was that the three sons of Aurac
Came to the river-ford by high Ard Keenaht
Against Cucullin. These, then, were those sons:
Mess-Linny and Mess-Leea and Mess-Lahan.
And Loo-an and Oo-al and Milhy were the names
Of their three chariot-drivers. For this cause
They went against Cucullin: it to them
Seemed overmuch of action and performance,—
That which Cucullin had performed against them
On those preceding days; namely, his slaying
Those sons of Renc, two foster-sons of Al-yill’s,
Beside Ath Gowla; and his overwhelming
Of Frae the son of Eedath; and his slaying
Of Orlam son of Al-yill and of Maev
At Tamlaht Orlam; and his brandishing
That head in full view of the hosts of Erin.
They meant to slay Cucullin in return,
And of themselves to lift that sore oppression
From the great hosts of Erin. To the woods
They went, and cut there three white hazel-rods,
And gave these to their charioteers; and then
They went, the six of them, against Cucullin,
Six against one, breaking the faith of men.
Cucullin at the ford by high Ard Keenaht
Slew four of them; but Lahan broke in flight
To northward. With his chariot-driver, Milhy,
He reached the Nith in Connallia Mweerhevna;
And there his chariot broke. Ath Carpat, therefore,
“Ford of the Chariot,” has since been the name
Upon that ford. And Lahan straightway turned
To face Cucullin who had swiftly chased him.
He met him on the second ford hard by.
He fell there by Cucullin; and Ath Lahan,
“The Ford of Lahan,” since has been the name
Upon that ford on the green river Nith.
Now, on the shoulder of hill between those fords—
Ath Carpat and Ath Lahan in the Nith—
Laeg son of Reeangowra, charioteer
Of famed Cucullin, fought the charioteer
Of Lahan, namely Milhy; and Laeg slew him:
Whence, Goola Milhy, “Shoulder of Milhy,” since
Has been the name on that low eminence
In Connallia Mweerhevna ’twixt those fords,
Ath Carpat and Ath Lahan in the Nith.
And that was “Laeg’s One Combat on the Táin.”
The hosts moved on and came to Edon More.
This was the time when from the far north-west,
From fair white-foaming Assaroe, the harpers
Of Keenbili arrived, with will to gladden
The hosts with harping and with magic music.
Because of friendship unto Maev and Al-yill
These came; but it appeared to Maev and Al-yill
That they were spies from the Ultonians. Wherefore,
The hosts gave chase to them, till at Leek More
“The Great Flat Flag,” those harpers went from them
In shapes of swift, wild stags; for they were men
Of druidism and great art and knowledge.
This was the time wherein Cucullin promised
That in whatever place he should see Maev,
He from his sling, from his cranntowl, would sling
A stone at her, which would not be far off
From one side of her head. That thing was done.
He, seeing Maev, cast from his sling a stone,
Which killed her little bird on her one shoulder
West of the ford. Maev crossed the ford; and then,
He, from his sling casting a second stone,
Killed her pet squirrel, which was on her shoulder
East of the ford. And “Maeda of the Bird,”
And “Maeda of the Squirrel,” are the names
Upon those places, even unto this hour.
This was the time wherein the men of Erin
Deliberated and took counsel, planning
At dawn upon the morrow to begin
Their ravaging and laying waste and spoiling
Of Meath and wide Moy Bray and Moy Mweerhevna
Up to Cucullin’s country. In the presence
Of Fergus son of Roy they planned; and then
To Fergus came his fervent memory
And sharp affection for his fosterling;
And he began to warn the men of Erin
To have much fear; and he began to praise
His fosterling, Cucullin, and to praise
His gifts and deeds, as he before had praised them
Beside Ath Gowla. Notwithstanding that,
The hosts upon the morrow morn began
Their ravaging and laying waste and spoiling
Of all those lands. A cloud of red-brown fire,
Heavy, wide-spread, they carried o’er those lands;
And Maev made sword-land of Mweerhevna. Then,
With all their captives and their herds of kine,
Which they had taken, and their preys and spoils,
They drew together, and moved on towards Cooley.

Cucullin, in the margin-land of Cooley,
Upon a day, at midday, in a forest,
Rested a little on his spear. His head
Was on his fists: his fists were round his spear:
His spear was on his knees. He rested so,
And slept his sleep, until he heard a cry
Coming right towards him from the north; and awful
And fear-inspiring it sounded to him.
Then he saw Laeg. “Whence was that cry, O Laeg?”
Cucullin said to him. “From the north-west,”
Laeg answered him, “upon the great highway
Unto Kell Coo-an.” “We will after it,”
Cucullin said. They went until they reached
The Ford of the Two Magic Deeds; and there
They heard the chariot-sound of chariot-wheels
Sound from the side of Grellah Culgary.
Ere long they saw one chariot before them;
And one red steed beneath it; and one leg
Beneath the steed; and the long chariot-pole
Through the steed’s body, so that a thole-pin passed
Through the pole’s end across his powerful forehead.
A blood-red woman with two blood-red eyebrows
Sat on that chariot; and her bratt and raiment
Were all blood-red. Betwixt the two hind-shafts
Her long, red bratt trailed o’er the earth behind her.
Nigh to the chariot walked one big, large man
Arrayed in red. He, with his hazel-fork,
Was driving on one cow in front of them.
“The cow rejoices not to be so driven,”
Cucullin said. The woman answered him:
“The cow pertains not to thee. She belongs
To no near kinsman and no friend of thine.”
“The cows of Ulster all pertain to me,”
Cucullin said; “and why is it the woman
Who answers me? Why is it not the man?”
“He is no man,” the woman said to him.
“He is Cold Wind, Reeds, Rushes.” “And thyself?”
Cucullin said, “what is thy name?” She answered:
“Keen-cutting Edge, Hair, Little Mouth, Hate, Horror.”
“Ye mock at me,” Cucullin cried. With that
He leapt on to the chariot. His two feet
He placed on her two shoulders; and his dart
He held above her crown. “Play not on me
With thy edged weapons!” she cried out. “Then name
Thy genuine name,” he said. “Depart from me,”
She said, “I am a woman-satirist;
And it was Dawra son of Feeacna
In Cooley, who, in payment for a song,
Bestowed on me this cow.” “Let us, then, hear
Thy song,” Cucullin said. “Depart from me,”
She said; “no more be trembling o’er me here.”
Cucullin then went down; and she to him
Sang a cheek-reddening, chafing, chiding song
Composed in learnéd words. He understood;
For he was trained and skilled in learnéd words;
And, filled with ire, he made to leap again
On to that chariot. Then he saw no chariot,
No steed, no man, no cow, no blood-red woman
With dragging, blood-red bratt; but saw, instead,
That she, the woman with the blood-red bratt,
Had now become one lonely carrion-bird,
Red-mouthed and black, on a tree-branch near by.
He comprehended then that he had seen
That dread More-reega, daughter of Ernmas, queen
Of heavy slaughters, who drinks up men’s blood,
Who shrieks on high for pale-lipped carcasses,
Dispensing her confusion, famine, battle,
Betwixt the seas of Erin; and he said:
“Had I but known that it was thou, O Queen,
We had not parted so.” She answered him,
Speaking in semblance of that carrion-bird:
“E’en the small ill which thou hast done to me,
Will cause thee ill, Cucullin. I had brought
That cow, thou sawest, from a far Shee-mound
To visit the Donn of Cooley: I was wending
To that Shee-mound again. Because, Cucullin,
Thou didst attempt to stay me on my way
Thou shalt find ill. Thou shalt have cause to rue
Thy deed to me; and thou shalt rue Maev’s Táin.”
“How shall I rue this Táin?” Cucullin said.
“For I thereby shall gain much fame and glory.
I shall break mighty battles. I shall slay
Their mighty men. I shall survive this Táin.”
“How wilt thou gain thy glory on this Táin?”
She said. “And how wilt thou survive this Táin?
For when thou first shalt meet upon a ford
A man commensurate with thyself in skill,
I, in the shape of a lithe water-eel,
Will wind around thy feet and cause thee there,
Within that ford, unequal, death-sure combat.”
“By all the gods by whom my people swear,
I swear,” Cucullin said, “that I will bruise thee
Against the grey rock-flags within that ford;
And ne’er shalt thou obtain from me thy healing
Till Doom, unless thou then shalt rise from me.”
“I, in the shape of a starved, grey bitch-wolf,
Will come,” she said, “and chase the startled kine
Down towards that ford to overwhelm thee there.”
“By all the gods by whom my people swear,
I swear,” Cucullin said, “that I will aim
A stone and break thy right eye, or thy left eye;
And thou shalt ne’er obtain from me thy healing
Till Doom, unless thou then shalt rise and flee.”
“I, in the shape of a red, hornless heifer,
Will come,” she said, “and guide one hundred heifers,
Hornless and red, to trample through that ford
Where thou wilt be; and thou shalt get thereby
Unequal, death-sure fight. Thy head, Cucullin,
Will be removed from thy curved throat that day.”
“By all the gods by whom our Ulster swears,
I swear,” Cucullin said, “that I will hurl
A stone, and break on thee one hindward leg;
And thou shalt ne’er obtain from me thy healing
Till Doom, unless thou then shalt rise and flee.”
After those words, the bitter-threatening bive
Went from that place. Cucullin turned again
Toward the same forest-watch whence he had come.

’Twas this same day that the great Donn of Cooley,
Having around him fifty of his heifers,
Came to the margin-land of Cooley. There
He pawed and dug the earth in front of him.
Then the More-reega, daughter of Ernmas, still
In semblance of the flesh-consuming bive,
The bitter-throated bird, flew till she lighted
Upon the lofty boundary-marking stone
In Tara of the land of Cooley. There
She cried her words of warning and of pity
Unto the Donn of Cooley; and she said,
Addressing him: “O miserable one!
O wretched Donn of Cooley! Hear my words.
Have fear! The men of Erin come to hunt thee.
Maev the daughter of Yohee Fayla comes
To hunt thee, and to capture thee, and bind thee.
Great her desire and her longing for thee!
Have fear! Hear warning! Flee, O bull of Cooley!”
The Donn of Cooley, then, with fifty heifers,
To the black, hidden Corrie of Glen Gatt
In Cooley, went into retreat and hiding.

Cucullin, in the salt and marshy flats
Of Connallia Mweerhevna in those days
Slew no one. On the low foot-hills of Cooley,
In his own natural country, he awaited
Those hosts of Erin. Then Maev told her people
To make a shed of shelter. With their shields
Over their heads they made a shed of shelter;
So that Cucullin from the little knolls,
And smooth and plain-topped hills, and rising hills,
Might not achieve their shooting. And Cucullin
Achieved no shooting of the men of Erin
Along those fore-shores or around the knolls
And hillocks of the margin-land of Cooley
Upon that day. In Raeda Loha, then,
In Cooley, the Four Fifths of Erin set
Their rest: ’twas there they made their camp that night.
That night Cucullin with his charioteer
Moved on beyond Glass Crond, a rapid stream
Of Cooley, his own natural country. There
He called to the quick mountain-streams of Cooley.
He said: “I supplicate the river-streams,
That they for me may fight. I supplicate
The torrents and the waters of my country.
I call to my Glass Crond.” The men of Erin
Moved on next day until they reached Glass Crond.
They sought to pass it. Then that river rose
And fought against them. And it swelled, and grew
Into the tree-tops; and it spread, and swept
One hundred of their battle-chariots down
Its rapid-waved, wild inver; and it whelmed them
In the deep-drowning sea. And none could cross
That river on that day. Next day Maev said
To her own people that some man should go
To prove the river. At those words a man
Of huge, tall bigness, one of Maev’s own people,
Rose to achieve that. Oola was his name.
Upon his back he put a flag of stone
For firmness; then he went to prove the stream.
Then the stream hurled him down and made him dead,
Deprived of life, the stone being on his back.
Maev told her folk to lift him forth again
And dig his grave-mound and erect his flag.
His grave-mound and his flag beside the way
Nigh to Glass Crond are to be seen this hour.
After that death the Four Great Fifths of Erin,
Because they could not pass Glass Crond, went up,
Coasting the stream, until they reached the place
Where the stream issued from the mountain. Closely
Cucullin on that journey followed them;
And, from the other side of the same stream,
With his cranntowl shooting at them, he slew
One hundred fighting-men of them; and slew
Amidst those fighting-men, both Raen and Roy,
The two historians of the Táin. Arrived
Beside the well whence the stream issued forth,
The people wished to pass between the well
And mountain, and descend the vale again.
But Maev allowed that not; for it to her
Seemed well to leave her track upon that mountain
Till Doom, to be a shame and a reproach
To the Ultonians. Therefore they camped there
Three days and nights, and dug the ground before them,
Digging a pass across that mountain-ridge
To be a lasting shame and strong disgrace
To the Ultonians. “Barna Tána Bo,”
That is the name upon that mountain-pass
Since then; because it was across the mountain
That the hosts passed. They passed, and so came down
To Findabair of Cooley. There the hosts
Divided, and they set the land in fire
And flame, and gathered what there were of women
And boys and maids and kine in mountainous Cooley,
Till they were gathered all at Findabair.
Then Maev surveyed each prey and prize and spoil.
“It is not well that ye have gone,” said Maev.
“The Donn of Cooley is not with you here
’Midst your great spoil.” “He is not in the spoil,”
All said. And then Maev’s cowherd, namely, Lohar,
Was called to Maev. “Where is the bull?” said she,
“Know’st thou, perchance?” “I fear to tell,” he answered.
“E’en as we came nigh to this land of Cooley,
He, with three twenties of his heifers round him,
To the black hidden Corrie of Glen Gatt
In Cooley went into retreat and hiding.”
“Rise ye,” said Maev. “Between each two of you
Carry a withe.” They did that (and from that
That glen is called “Glen of the Withes,” Glen Gatt).
They found the bull, and drove him forth with triumph
Until he was in Findabair of Cooley.
In which place, seeing Maev’s own cowherd there—
Lohar, to wit—the bull repaired to him.
He brought the entrails and the inward parts
Of Lohar out on his high, lofty horns.
With all his heifers he attacked that camp
In Findabair till fifty fighting-men
Had fallen and died. He went from them, then, straight
Out of the camp and doon in Findabair;
And not a man of all the men of Erin
Knew whither he had gone. These things to them
Seemed shame and taint, dishonour and disgrace.
To the wild desert woods around Slieve Gullion
It was that the great Donn of Cooley now
Had gone from them to new retreat and hiding.
The hosts moved on, driving their prey and spoil,
Which they had taken. At Glen Taul that night
They made their camp and fort. That glen is called
Glen Taul, because of the abundant milk
Yielded that night to all the hosts of Erin
By the great flocks and herds which they had taken.
The hosts next day moved on until they reached
Glass Colpa, a swift mountain-stream of Cooley.
Glass Colpa rose against them; and it swept
One hundred of their battle-chariots down
Its rapid-waved, wild torrent, till it lost them
In the deep-drowning sea. They skirted Colpa
Up to its spring, even to Bally Al-yone,
And slept that night at Leessa Leek,—so called
Because of the enclosures for their calves
Which they constructed in that place that night.
Next day the hosts moved on. As they moved on
A thing occurred touching the sword of Fergus,
Occurring as hereafter follows. Al-yill
Early that day said to his charioteer,
Namely, Faer-lōga: “Go from me, Faer-lōga!
Discover Maev and Fergus. It with me
Seems well to have some new memorial
And index of their union and their friendship.”
That charioteer rose forth. He found the queen,
The daughter of Yohee Fayla, and great Fergus,
Where that pair stayed behind in a fair brake
The while the hosts moved on. The two heard not
That spy beside them. Now, the sword of Fergus,
His Calad-colg, his musical sword, which Leddy
Had brought one time out from the magic Shee,
And had bequeathed to Fergus—that curved sword,
Which was a flaming candle, and whose voice
Was sweeter than the sound of pipes of gold
When played at evening in a royal house—
Lay nigh him in that place wherein he lay
Companioned by great Maev. Faer-lōga drew
That sword from out its sheath, and left the sheath
Empty and void not far from Fergus there.
He went to Al-yill. “Is it so, indeed?”
Said Al-yill. “It is so,” Faer-lōga said.
“Here is the token.” “That is a good token,”
Said Al-yill; and they smiled each at the other.
“For her ’twas right,” said Al-yill. “’Tis for help
On this her Táin that she hath done it. See
Now that the wondrous sword be kept by thee
Bright and well polished. Put it ’neath the seat
Of my own chariot with a cloth of linen
Folded about it there.” Fergus rose up
Ere long, and made to don his sword again.
“Alas!” said he. “What is thy grief?” asked Maev.
“’Tis an ill deed that I have done to Al-yill,”
He said; “and bide thou here while I go up
Into yon wood; and wonder not at all,
Though it be long till I come back.” Maev knew not
That he had lost his sword. Fergus went up
Amidst the trees, and took with him the sword
Of his own charioteer. He made a sword
Of wood amidst those trees, and thrust that sword
Into his empty sheath. “We will go on
Now to the hosts,” he said. And they went on
To the great hosts of the Four Fifths of Erin.
The hosts that day passed over swift Glass Gatlig.
Glass Gatlig it was called because with gads
And withes and ropes and cords they dragged their kine
And brought their calves across it. After that,
On steep Drumenna in the border-land
’Twixt Connallia and Cooley they that night
Encamped. They made a very strong encampment.
Fergus was called that night to play at feehill
With Al-yill in his tent. He went; and Al-yill
Laughed at him railingly. Fergus was wroth;
But Al-yill said: “Be not wroth, then, O Fergus;
For welcome is thy coming. Sit thou down.
We will play feehill here and boo-an-bac.”
Fergus sat down, then, in the royal tent;
And the two played at feehill on a board
Of bronze: of gold and silver were the men.

The hour the cloudy shades of night came down,
Cucullin, from Slieve Fauhan very near
The hosts of Erin, with his strong cranntowl
Began to hurl his sling-stones at that camp
On cragged Drumenna; and all night he hurled;
So that before the light of rising-time
Upon the morrow, he had slain one hundred
Firm fighting-men from ’midst the men of Erin.
And all the hosts at light of rising-time
Were dulled and deadened by their apprehension
And fear and dread and terror of Cucullin.
Maev at that early dawning-hour then spake
To Feeaha the son of Conall Carna
Of Ulster, who was kinsman to Cucullin.
She bade him go to seek Cucullin out,
And offer terms. “What terms?” said Feeaha.
“Not hard to tell,” said Maev; “indemnity
For aught of his that we have spoiled or taken:
A feast in Croohan for him never-ending:
Wine and sweet mead there to be poured for him:
And he to come into the warlike service
Of Al-yill and myself; for I myself
Am, in real power, the sovereign of all Erin;
And so, to serve me would advantage him
More than his serving of that minor lord
Whose he now is.” (Now this, by the Ultonians,
Has been accounted ever as the saying
Most mirth-producing, droll, and laughable,
That e’er was spoken on the Táin,—Maev’s making
“A minor lord” of that renowned great ruler
Over a Fifth, who was the best in Erin,
Namely, of Conor son of Fahtna son
Of Ross the Red-haired son of Rury More.)
Feeaha went upon that embassy.
Cucullin welcomed him; and Feeaha
Related all Maev’s terms. Cucullin said:
“I will not change the brother of my mother
For e’er another sovereign. But let Maev
And Fergus come to-morrow to Glen Fauhan,
And meet me there in the red light of morning,
And I will speak with Maev.” Then Feeaha
Went with these words back to the men of Erin.
So the next day in the red light of morning
Fergus and Maev went down into Glen Fauhan
To meet Cucullin. And across the glen
Maev looked upon Cucullin; and her mind
Tortured her greatly on that day, because
No more than a fair, adolescent youth
He seemed to her to be. “Is yonder one,”
She said, “that wonderful, renowned Cucullin
Of whom ye speak, O Fergus?” But on Fergus
A silence had fallen. In his breast there grew
His pain of sharp affection while he viewed,
For the first time, the little tender lad,
His fosterling, whom he had left in Avvin
Many long years before, and who had come
Now to his seventeen years. “Well, let Cucullin
Be spoken to by thee,” Maev said. “Not so,”
Fergus replied. “Let him be spoken to
By thee thyself; for there is little distance
Betwixt you here across the glen.” Maev then
Spake to the lad herself. She said to him:
“Thou young Cucullin son of Dectora,
Featful swift hound of Cooley and Mweerhevna,
I offer thee complete indemnity
For aught of thine that we have spoiled or taken:
A feast in Croohan for thee, never-ending,
With wine and mead there to be poured for thee,
If thou wilt come into the warlike service
Of Al-yill and myself, and leave the service
Of him whom now thou servest.” Thus said Maev.
Over the glen Cucullin answered her:
“O most proud Maev daughter of Yōhee Fayla,
I will not change the brother of my mother
For e’er another sovereign in all Erin.
I will not stay from you my strong cranntowl,
Unless ye will restore to me all women
Whom ye have taken in this realm of Ulster.
I will not stay my terrible cranntowl,
Unless ye will restore to me, not only
The kine of my own lands, but all the kine
Which ye have taken in this realm of Ulster.
For all the folk and all the kine of Ulster
Pertain to me on this your great Invasion;
And for them all I here keep watch and ward.”
Maev at these words had anger. “This,” she said,
“Were far too much to give for warding-off
The attacks of a young, tender lad.” In anger,
Then, on each side, they parted from each other,
Leaving Glen Fauhan. Maev and Fergus went
Back to their camp and to the hosts of Erin.

BOOK IX