bright drinking-horns.
Her sunny house is beside Loch Cuire, made of silver and yellow gold;
its ridge is thatched without any fault, with the crimson wings of
birds. The doorposts are green, the lintel is of silver taken in battle.
Credhe's chair on the left is the delight of delights, covered with gold
of Elga; at the foot of the pleasant bed it is, the bed that was made of
precious stones by Tuile in the east. Another bed there is on the right,
of gold and silver, it is made without any fault, curtains it has of the
colour of the foxglove, hanging on rods of copper.

"The people of her house, it is they have delight, their cloaks are not
faded white, they are not worn smooth; their hair is fair and curling.
Wounded men in their blood would sleep hearing the birds of the Sidhe
singing in the eaves of the sunny house.

"If I have any thanks to give to Credhe, for whom the cuckoo calls, she
will get better praise than this; if this love-service I have done is
pleasing to her, let her not delay, let her say, 'Your coming is
welcome to me.'

"A hundred feet there are in her house, from one corner to another;
twenty feet fully measured is the width of her great door; her roof has
its thatch of the wings of blue and yellow birds, the border of her well
is of crystals and carbuncles.

"There is a vat there of royal bronze; the juice of pleasant malt is
running from it; over the vat is an apple-tree with its heavy fruit;
when Credhe's horn is filled from the vat, four apples fall into it
together.

"She that owns all these things both at low water and at flood, Credhe
from the Hill of the Three Peaks, she is beyond all the women of Ireland
by the length of a spear-cast.

"Here is this song for her, it is no sudden bride-gift it is, no hurried
asking; I bring it to Credhe of the beautiful shape, that my coming may
be very bright to her."

Then Credhe took him for her husband, and the wedding-feast was made,
and the whole of the Fianna stopped there through seven days, at
drinking and pleasure, and having every good thing.

CHAPTER III. CONN CRITHER

Finn now, when he had turned from his road to go to Credhe's house, had
sent out watchmen to every landing-place to give warning when the ships
of the strangers would be in sight. And the man that was keeping watch
at the White Strand was Conn Crither, son of Bran, from Teamhair
Luachra.

And after he had been a long time watching, he was one night west from