The Ancient Irish Epic Tale Tain Bo Cualnge Part 7

[4-4] Stowe.

[5-5] LU. and YBL. 217.

[6-6] LU. and YBL. 227.

[7-7] Eg. 1782.

[W.472.] Medb perceived this and she upbraided him for it, and chanted the lay:--

Medb: "Fergus, speak, what shall we say?

What may mean this devious way?

For we wander north and south; Over other lands we stray!"

Fergus: "Medb, why art thou so perturbed?

There's no treacherous purpose here.

Ulster's land it is, O queen, Over which I've led thy host!"

Medb: "Ailill, splendid with his hosts, [1]Fears thee lest thou should'st betray.[1]

Thou hast not bent all thy mind To direct us on our way!"

Fergus: "Not to bring the host to harm Make these changing circuits I.

Haply could I now avoid Sualtach's son, the Blacksmith's Hound!"[a]

Medb: "Ill of thee to wrong our host, Fergus, son of Ross the Red; Much good hast thou found with us, Fergus, in thy banishment!"

"[2]If thou showest our foemen love, No more shalt thou lead our troops; Haply someone else we'll find To direct us on our way![2]"

[1-1] Reading with LU. and YBL. 252.

[a] That is, Cuchulain.

[2-2] Eg. 1782.

"I will be in the van of the troops no longer," cried Fergus; "but do thou find another to go before them." For all that, Fergus kept his place in the van of the troops.

The four mighty provinces of Erin pa.s.sed that night on Cul Silinne. The sharp, keen-edged anxiety for Cuchulain came upon Fergus and he warned the men of Erin to be on their guard, because there would come upon them the rapacious lion, and the doom of foes, the vanquisher of mult.i.tudes, and the chief of retainers, the mangler of great hosts, the hand that dispenseth [3]treasures,[3] and the flaming [W.502.] torch, even Cuchulain son of Sualtaim.[a] And thus he foreshowed him and chanted a lay, and Medb responded:--

Fergus: "Well for ye to heed and watch, With array of arms and men.

He will come, the one we fear, Murthemne's great, deedful youth!"

Medb: "How so dear, this battle-rede, Comes from thee, [LL.fo.58a.] Roig's son most bold.

Men and arms have I enough To attend Cuchulain here!"

Fergus: "Thou shalt need them, Medb of Ai, Men and arms for battle hard, With the grey steed's[b] horseman brave.

All the night and all the day!"

Medb: "I have kept here in reserve Heroes fit for fight and spoil; Thirty hundred hostage-chiefs, Leinster's bravest champions they.

Fighting men from Cruachan fair, Braves from clear-streamed Luachair, Four full realms of goodly Gaels Will defend me from this man!"

Fergus: "Rich in troops from Mourne and Bann, Blood he'll draw o'er shafts of spears; He will cast to mire and sand These three thousand Leinstermen.

With the swallow's swiftest speed, With the rush of biting wind, So bounds on my dear brave Hound, Breathing slaughter on his foes!"

Medb: "Fergus, should he come 'tween us, To Cuchulain bear this word: He were prudent to stay still; Cruachan holds a check in store."

Fergus: "Valiant will the slaughter be Badb's wild daughter[c] gloats upon.

For the Blacksmith's Hound will spill Showers of blood on hosts of men!"

[3-3] Stowe and Add.

[a] MS.: _Sualtach._

[b] _Liath Mache_ ('the Roan of Macha'), the name of one of Cuchulain's two horses.

[c] That is, the G.o.ddess or fury of battle.

[W.540.] After this lay the men of the four grand provinces of Erin marched [1]on the morrow[1] over Moin Coltna ('the Marsh of Coltain') eastwards that day; and there met them eight score deer [2]in a single herd.[2] The troops spread out and surrounded and killed them so that none of them escaped.

[1-1] LU. 195.

[2-2] Stowe and Add.

But there is one event to add: Although the division of the Galian had been dispersed [3]among the men of Erin,[3] [4]wherever there was a man of the Galian, it was he that got them, except[4] five deer only which was the men of Erin's share thereof, so that one division took all the eight score deer.

[3-3] Stowe and Add.

[4-4] LU. 196.

[5]Then they proceed to Mag Trega and they unyoke there and prepare their food. It is said that it is there that Dubthach recited this stave:--

"Grant ye have not heard till now, Giving ear to Dubthach's fray: Dire-black war upon ye waits, 'Gainst the Whitehorned of Queen Medb![a]

"There will come the chief of hosts,[b]

War for Murthemne to wage.

Ravens shall drink garden's milk,[c]

This the fruit of swineherds' strife (?)[d]

"Turfy Cron will hold them back, Keep them back from Murthemne,[5]

[9]Till the warriors' work is done On Ochaine's northern mount!

"'Quick,' to Cormac, Ailill cries; 'Go and seek ye out your son, Loose no cattle from the fields, Lest the din of the host reach them!'

"Battle they'll have here eftsoon, Medb and one third of the host.

Corpses will be scattered wide If the Wildman[a] come to you!"

[a] Literally, 'of Ailill's spouse.'