W. 220.my people art thou [1]and what is thy name[1]?" asked Medb. "Not hard, in sooth, to say. The prophetess Fedelm, from the Sid ('the Fairy Mound') of Cruachan, [2]a poetess of Connacht[2] am I." [3]"Whence comest thou?" asked Medb. "From Alba, after learning prophetic skill," the maiden made answer. "Hast thou the form of divination?"[4] "Verily, have I," the maiden said.[3] [5]"Look, then, for me, how will my undertaking be." The maiden looked. Then spake Medb:—[5]
"Good now,
"Tell, O Fedelm, prophet-maid,
How beholdest thou our host?"
[6]Fedelm answered and spoke:[6]
"Crimson-red from blood they are;
I behold them bathed in red!"
[7]"That is no true augury,"[7] said Medb. "Verily, Conchobar [8]with the Ulstermen[8] is in his 'Pains' in Emain; thither fared my messengers [9]and brought me true tidings[9]; naught is there that we need dread from Ulster's men. But speak truth, O Fedelm:—
"Tell, O Fedelm, prophet-maid,
How beholdest thou our host?"
"Crimson-red from blood they are;
I behold them bathed in red!"
[10]"That is no true augury.[10] Cuscraid Mend ('the Stammerer') of Macha, Conchobar's son, is in Inis Cuscraid ('Cuscraid's Isle') in his 'Pains.' Thither fared my messengers; naught need we fear from Ulster's men. But speak truth, O Fedelm:—
