Chapter 60
"To fall by my hand, I own was not just!
'Twas no n.o.ble fight.
Alas, golden brooch!
[1]"Thy death at Cu's hand Was dire, O dear calf![a]
Unequal the s.h.i.+eld Thou hadst for the strife!
"Unfair was our fight, Our woe and defeat!
Fair the great chief; Each host overcome And put under foot!
Alas, golden brooch!"[1]
[1-1] Stowe.
[2-2] Stowe.
[3-3] Stowe.
[a] Reading with YBL. 39b, 31, as more intelligible than the 'chess-board' of LL., which occurs in the next stanza.
[4-4] YBL. 39b, 31-33.
[1-1] YBL. 39b, 35-39.
[a] A term of endearment which survives in Modern Irish.
[W.4092.] "Come, O Laeg my master," cried Cuchulain; "now cut open Ferdiad and take the Gae Bulga out, because I may not be without my weapons." Laeg came and cut open Ferdiad and he took the Gae Bulga out of him. And Cuchulain saw his weapons b.l.o.o.d.y and red-stained by the side of Ferdiad, and he uttered these words:--
"O Ferdiad, in gloom we meet.
Thee I see both red and pale.
I myself with unwashed arms; Thou liest in thy bed of gore!
"Were we yonder in the East, Scathach and our Uathach near, There would not be pallid lips Twixt us two, and arms of strife!
"Thus spake Scathach trenchantly (?), Words of warning, strong and stern: 'Go ye all to furious fight; German, blue-eyed, fierce will come!'
"Unto Ferdiad then I spake, And to Lugaid generous, To the son of fair Baetan,[b]
German we would go to meet!
"We came to the battle-rock, Over Lake Linn Formait's sh.o.r.e.
And four hundred men we brought[c]
From the Isles of the Athissech!
"As I stood and Ferdiad brave At the gate of German's fort, [LL.fo.88b.] I slew Rinn the son of Nel; He slew Ruad son of Fornel!
[W.4122.] "Ferdiad slew upon the slope Blath, of Colba 'Red-sword' son.
Lugaid, fierce and swift, then slew Mugairne of the Tyrrhene Sea!
"I slew, after going in, Four times fifty grim, wild men.
Ferdiad killed--a furious horde-- Dam Dremenn and Dam Dilenn!
"We
German we brought home alive To our Scathach of broad s.h.i.+eld!
"Then our famous nurse made fast Our blood-pact[a] of amity, That our angers should not rise 'Mongst the tribes of n.o.ble Elg!
"Sad the morn, a day in March, Which struck down weak Daman's son.
Woe is me, the friend is fall'n Whom I pledged in red blood's draught![a]
"Were it there I saw thy death, Midst the great Greeks' warrior-bands, I'd not live on after thee, But together we would die!
"Woe, what us befel therefrom, Us, dear Scathach's fosterlings, Me sore wounded, red with blood, Thee no more to drive thy car!
"Woe, what us befel therefrom, Us, dear Scathach's fosterlings, Me sore wounded, stiff with gore, Thee to die the death for aye!
"Woe, what us befel therefrom, Us, dear Scathach's fosterlings, Thee in death, me, strong, alive.
Valour is an angry strife!"
[b] That is, Ferbaeth.
[c] That is, as prisoners.
[a] Referring to the Celtic custom of binding an alliance by each of the parties thereto drinking the blood of the other.
"Good, O Cucuc," spake Laeg, "let us leave this ford now; too long are we here!" "Aye, let us leave it, O my master Laeg," replied Cuchulain. "But every combat and battle I have fought seems a game and a sport to me compared with the combat and battle of Ferdiad." Thus he spake, and he uttered these words:--
[W.4164.] "All was play, all was sport, Till came Ferdiad to the ford!
One task for both of us, Equal our reward.
Our kind, gentle nurse Chose him over all!
"All was play, all was sport, Till came Ferdiad to the ford!
One our life, one our fear, One our skill in arms.
s.h.i.+elds gave Scathach twain To Ferdiad and me!
"All was play, all was sport, Till came Ferdiad to the ford!
Dear the shaft of gold[a]
I smote on the ford.
Bull-chief of the tribes, Braver he than all!
"Only games and only sport, Till came Ferdiad to the ford!
Lion, furious, flaming, fierce; Swollen wave that wrecks like doom!
"Only games and only sport, Till came Ferdiad to the ford!
Loved Ferdiad seemed to me After me would live for aye!
Yesterday, a mountain's size-- He is but a shade to-day!
"Three things countless on the Tain Which have fallen by my hand: Hosts of cattle, men and steeds, I have slaughtered on all sides!
"Though the hosts were e'er so great, That came out of Cruachan wild, More than third and less than half, Slew I in my direful sport!