air man, Fedlimid, who so comes there; he is fierceness
of warriors, he is the wave of a storm that drowns, he is might
that is not endured, with triumphs out of other territories after
destruction (?) of his foes; that is Fedlimid ---- ---- there.'

'Another company has come there to the hill to Slemon Midi,' said
Mac Roth, 'which is not fewer than a warlike cantred (?). A warrior
great, brave, grey, proper, ----, in front of it. Hair black,
curly, on him; round eyes, grey(?), very high, in his head. A man
bull-like, strong, rough; a grey cloak about him, with a brooch of
silver on his arm; a shirt white, hooded, round him; a sword at his
side; a red shield with a hard boss of silver on it. A spear with
three rivets, broad, in his hand.'

'Who is that, O Fergus?' said Ailill.

'He is the fierce glow of wrath, he is a shaft (?) of every battle;
he is the victory of every combat, who has so come there, Connad
Mac Mornai from Callann,' said Fergus.

'Another company has come to the hill at Slemon Midi,' said Mac
Roth. 'It is the march of an army for greatness. The leader who is
in front of that company, not common is a warrior fairer both in
form and attire and equipment. Hair bushy, red-yellow, on him; a
face proper, purple, well-proportioned; a face narrow below, broad
above; lips red, thin; teeth shining, pearly; a voice clear,
ringing; a face fair, purple, shapely; most beautiful of the forms
of men; a purple cloak folded round him; a brooch with full
adornment of gold, over his white breast; a bent shield with
many-coloured rivets, with a boss of silver, at his left; a long
spear, grey-edged, with a sharp javelin for attack in his hand; a
sword gold-hilted, of gold, on his back; a hooded shirt with red
ornamentation about him.'

'Who is that, O Fergus?' said Ailill.

'We know, indeed,' said Fergus. 'He is half of a combat truly,'
said he, 'who so comes there; he is a fence(?) of battle, he is
fierce rage of a bloodhound; Rochad Mac Fathemain from Bridamae,
your son-in-law, is that, who wedded your daughter yonder, that is,
Findabair.'

'Another company has come to the hill, to Slemon Midi,' said Mac
Roth. 'A warrior with great calves, stout, with great thighs, big,
in front of that company. Each of his limbs is almost as thick as a
man. Truly, he is a man down to the ground,' said he. 'Hair black
on him; a face full of wounds, purple, has he; an eye parti-coloured,
very high, in his head; a man glorious, de