Cuchullin the great chief had pitched his tent,
From Samhain[29] time, till now ’twas budding spring,
Fast by the Ford, and held the land at bay. 
All Erin, save the fragment that he led,
His sword held back, nor dared a man to cross
The rippling Ford without Cuchullin’s leave: 
Chief after chief had fallen in the attempt;
And now the men of Erin through the night
Asked in dismay, “Oh! who shall be the next
To face the northern hound[30] and free the Ford?”
“Let it now be,” with one accord they cried,
“Ferdiah, son of Daman Dare’s son,
Of Domnann[31] lord, and all its warrior men.” 
The chiefs thus fated now to meet as foes
In early life were friends—­had both been taught
All feats of arms by the same skilful hands
In Scatha’s[32] school beneath the peaks of Skye,
Which still preserve Cuchullin’s glorious name. 
One feat of arms alone Cuchullin knew
Ferdiah knew not of—­the fatal cast—­
The dread expanding force of the gaebulg[33]
Flung from the foot resistless on the foe. 
But, on the other hand, Ferdiah wore
A skin-protecting suit of flashing steel[34]
Surpassing all in Erin known till then. 
At length the council closed, and to the chief
Heralds were sent to tell them that the choice
That night had fallen on him; but he within
His tent retired, received them not, nor went. 
For well he knew the purport of their suit
Was this—­that he should fight beside the Ford
His former fellow-pupil and his friend. 
Then Mave,[35] the queen, her powerful druids sent,
Armed not alone with satire’s scorpion stings,
But with the magic power even on the face,
By their malevolent taunts and biting sneers,
To raise three blistering blots[36] that typified
Disgrace, dishonour, and a coward’s shame,
Which with their mortal venom him would kill,
Or on the hour, or ere nine days had sped,
If he declined the combat, and refused
Upon the instant to come forth with them,
And so, for honour’s sake, Ferdiah came. 
For he preferred to die a warrior’s death,
Pierced to the heart by a proud foeman’s spear,
Than by the serpent sting of slanderous tongues—­
By satire and abuse, and foul reproach. 
When to the court he came, where the great queen
Held revel, he received all due respect: 
The sweet intoxicating cup went round,
And soon Ferdiah felt the power of wine. 
Great were the rich rewards then promised him
For going forth to battle with the Hound: 
A chariot worth seven cumals four times told,[37]
The outfit then of twelve well-chosen men
Made of more colours than the rainbow knows,
His own broad plains of level fair Magh Aie,[38]
To him and his assured till time was o’er
Free of all tribute, without fee or fine;
The golden brooch, too, from the queen’s own cloak,
And, above all, fair Finavair[39] for wife. 
But doubtful was Ferdiah of the queen,
And half excited by the fiery cup,
And half distrustful, knowing wily Mave,
He asked for more assurance of her faith. 
Then she to him, in rhythmic rise of song,
And he in measured ranns to her replied.