Conchobar. [1]It is no
lying word, stiffly they made their march, that company to Slane of
Meath."[1]

[4-4] YBL. 47b, 48, Stowe and H. 1. 13.

[5-5] YBL. 48a, 2, Stowe and H. 1. 13.

[6-6] Stowe, and, similarly, YBL. 48a, 4-6, H. 1. 13.

[7-7] YBL. 48a, 8-9, and, similarly, Stowe and H. 1. 13.

[1-1] Stowe, H. 1. 13 and, similarly, YBL. 48a, 10-11.

"But, who might he be?" asked Ailill of Fergus. "Aye then we know him,"
Fergus made answer. "A thirst for valour and prowess; a thirst for madness
and fury; [2]a man of strength and of courage, of pride and of greatness of
heart[2] is he that came thither. The welding of hosts and of arms; the
point of battle and of slaughter of the men of the north of Erin, mine own
real foster-brother himself, Fergus son of Lete, [3]the king[3] from Line
in the north, is the man yonder!"

[2-2] Stowe and H. 1. 13.

[3-3] YBL. 48a, 14.

"Still another [4]great, fierce[4] company came to the same hill in Slane
of Meath," macRoth continued. [5]"A battle-line with strange garments
upon them,[5] steadfast, without equal. A [6]comely,[6] handsome,
[7]matchless,[7] untiring warrior in the van of this company; [8]the flower
of every form, whether as regards hair, or eye, or whiteness; whether of
size, or followers or fitness.[8] Next to his skin a blue, narrow-bordered
cloth, with strong, woven and twisted hoops of silvered bronze, with
becoming, sharp-fashioned buttons of red gold on its slashes and
breast-borders; a [9]green[9] mantle, pieced together with the choicest of
all colours, [10]folded about him;[10] [11]a brooch of pale gold in the
cloak over his breast;[11] five circles of gold, [LL.fo.99a.] that is, his
shield, he bore on him; a tough, obdurate, straight-bladed sword for a
hero's handling hung high on his left side. A straight, fluted spear,
flaming red [12]and venomous[12] in his hand." "But, who might that be?"
asked [W.5342.] Ailill of Fergus. "Truly, we know him well," Fergus made
answer. [1]"Fiery is the manner of the warlike champion who has so come
thither.[1] The choice flower of royal poets is he. He is the rush on the
rath; he is the way to the goal; fierce is his valour, the man that came
thither; Amargin son of the smith Ecetsalach ('the Grimy'), the noble poet
from the Buas in the north, is he."

[4-4] YBL. 48a, 16.

[5-5] YBL. 48a, 17.

[6-6] Stowe, H. 1. 13 and YBL. 48a, 18.

[7-7] Stowe and H. 1. 13.