The hands flash white, as blows they heap on shields
that roar and quake;
A peaceful couch for men that sleep in death the cairn
shall make.
The king uplifts his spear, and slays a prince; sharp
deeds are done;
A tomb above the dead they raise, and sad the tale will
run:
Badb[1] shall destroy! force wild and dread from Maev
the field shall win;
The slain lie heaped, her host hath fled; how sad the
storm wind's din!
"If ye be obedient to my counsel," said the Druid, "this very night shall ye depart from the castle." And Mani was wroth, and with anger he rebuked the Druid for the words which he had spoken; and "No cause," said Gerg, "is there why ye should be in terror for him of whom he hath warned you, since no muster of heroes or of warriors from Ulster hath Conor with him at all. Even were you not here to defend yourselves," said he, "I myself with my two sons would give battle to Conor." And they lifted up their fallen weapons, and they paid no heed to the words which the Druid had spoken.
Now as Conor in the morning of that day lay asleep
11
- ↑ Pronounced Bahb.
