“There I beheld in a decorated room the fairest man of Erin’s heroes.  He wore a tufted purple cloak.  White as snow was one of his cheeks, the other was red and speckled like foxglove.  Blue as hyacinth was one of his eyes, dark as a stag-beetle’s back was the other.  The bushy head of fair golden hair upon him was as large as a reaping-basket, and it touches the edge of his haunches.  It is as curly as a ram’s head.  If a sackful of red-shelled nuts were spilt on the crown of his head, not one of them would fall on the floor, but remain on the hooks and plaits and swordlets of their hair.  A gold hilted sword in his hand; a blood-red shield which has been speckled with rivets of white bronze between plates of gold.  A long, heavy, three-ridged spear:  as thick as an outer yoke is the shaft that is in it.  Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!”

“Easy for me to liken him, for the men of Erin know that scion.  That is Conall Cernach, son of Amorgen.  He has chanced to be along with Conaire at this time.  ’Tis he whom Conaire loves beyond every one, because of his resemblance to him in goodness of form and shape.  Goodly is the hero that is there, Conall Cernach!  To that blood-red shield on his fist, which has been speckled with rivets of white bronze, the Ulaid have given a famous name, to wit, the Bricriu of Conall Cernach.

“I swear what my tribe swears, plenteous will be the rain of red blood over it to-night before the Hostel!  That ridged spear above him, many will there be unto whom to-night, before the Hostel, it will deal drinks of death.  Seven doorways there are out of the house, and Conall Cernach will contrive to be at each of them, and from no doorway will he be absent.  Three hundred will fall by Conall in his first conflict, besides a man for each (of his) weapons and one for himself.  He will share prowess with every one in the Hostel, and when he shall happen to sally upon you from the house, as numerous as hailstones and grass on green and stars of heaven will be your half-heads and cloven skulls, and your bones under the point of his sword.  He will succeed in escaping though wounded.  Woe to him that shall wreak the Destruction, were it but for this man only!”

“Ye cannot,” says Ingcel.  “Clouds,” etc.

“And after that whom sawest thou?”

THE ROOM OF CONAIRE HIMSELF

“There I beheld a room, more beautifully decorated than the other rooms of the house.  A silvery curtain around it, and there were ornaments in the room.  I beheld a trio in it.  The outer two of them were, both of them, fair, with their hair and eyelashes; and they are as bright as snow.  A very lovely blush on the cheek of each of the twain.  A tender lad in the midst between them.  The ardour and energy of a king has he, and the counsel of a sage.  The mantle I saw around him is even as the mist of Mayday.  Diverse are the hue and semblance