"Let's haste to th' encounter, To battle with this man; The ford we will come to, O'er which Badb will shriek! To meet with Cuchulain, To wound his slight body, To thrust the spear through him So that he may die!" "To stay it were better; Your threats are not gentle Death's sickness will one have, And sad will ye part! To meet Ulster's noblest To meet whence ill cometh; Long will men speak of it. Alas, for your course!" "Not fair what thou speakest; No fear hath the warrior; We owe no one meekness; We stay not for thee! Hush, gilla, about us! The time will bring strong hearts; More meet strength than weakness; Let's on to the tryst!" "The roll of a chariot, Its fair yoke of silver; A man great and stalwart O'ertops the strong car! O'er Bri Ross, o'er Branè Their swift path they hasten; Past Old-tree Town's tree-stump, Victorious they speed! "A sly Hound that driveth, A fair chief that urgeth, A free hawk that speedeth His steeds towards the south! Gore-coloured, the Cua, 'Tis sure he will take us We know-- vain to hide it-- He brings us defeat! Woe him on the hillock, The brave Hound before him; Last year I foretold it, That some time he'd come! Hound from Emain Macha, Hound formed of all colours, The Border-hound War-hound, I hear what I've heard!" "'Tis time now to help me; Be silent! cease praising! 'Twas no deed of friendship, No doom o'er the brink(?) The Champion of Cualnge, Thou seest 'midst proud feats, For that it's for guerdon, Shall quickly be slain!" "I see Cualnge's hero, With feats overweening, Not fleeing he flees us, But towards us he comes. He runneth-- not slowly-- Though cunning-- not sparing-- Like water down high cliff Or thunderbolt quick!" "'Tis cause of a quarrel, So much thou hast praised him; And why hast thou chose him, Since I am from home? And now they extol him, They fall to proclaim him; None come to attack him, But soft simple men(?)." "What led thee, O Cua, To fight a strong champion? Thy flesh will be gore-red O'er smoke of thy steeds! Alas for thy journey, A kindling of firebrands; In sore need of healing, If home thou shouldst reach!" "I'm come before warriors Around the herd's wild Boar, Before troops and hundreds, To drown thee in deep In anger, to prove thee In hundred-fold battle, Till on thee come havoc, Defending thy head!" "Here stands one to crush thee, 'Tis I will destroy thee, . . . . . From me there shall come The flight of their warriors In presence of Ulster, That long they'll remember The loss that was theirs!" "How then shall we combat? For wrongs shall we heave sighs? Despite all, we'll go there, To fight on the ford! Or is it with hard swords, Or e'en with red spear-points, Before hosts to slay thee, If thy hour hath come?" "'Fore sunset, 'fore nightfall-- If need be, then guard thee-- I'll fight thee at Bairchè, Not bloodlessly fight! The Ulstermen call thee, 'He has him!' Oh, hearken! The sight will distress them That through them will pass!" "In danger's gap fallen, At hand is thy life's term; On thee plied be weapons, Not gentle the skill! One champion will slay thee; We both will encounter; No more shalt lead forays, From this day till Doom!" "Avaunt with thy warnings, Thou world's greatest braggart; Nor guerdon nor pardon, Low warrior for thee! 'Tis I that well know thee, Thou heart of a cageling-- This lad merely tickles-- Without skill or force!" "When we were with Scathach, For wonted arms' training, Together we'd fare forth, To seek every fight. Thou wast my heart's comrade, My clan and my kinsman; Ne'er found I one dearer; Thy loss would be sad!" "Thou wager'st thine honour Unless we do battle; Before the cock croweth, Thy head on a spit! Cuchulain of Cualnge, Mad frenzy hath seized thee All ill we'll wreak on thee, For thine is the sin!"
