‘Another company has come there,’ said Mac Roth; ’its appearance is vaster than a cantred; a man brave, difficult, fair, with broad head, before it.  Hair dark and curly on him; a beard long, with slender points, forked, has he; a cloak dark-grey, ——­, folded round him; a leaf-shaped brooch of white metal over his breast; a white, hooded shirt to his knees; a hero’s shield with rivets on him; a sword of white silver about his waist; a five-pointed spear in his hand.  He sat down in front of the leader of the first troop.’

‘Who is that, O Fergus?’ said Ailill.

‘I know indeed,’ said Fergus, ’those companies.  Conchobar, king of a province of Ireland, it is he who has sat down on the mound of sods.  Sencha Mac Aililla, the orator of Ulster, it is he who has sat down before him.  Cuscraid, the Stammerer of Macha, son of Conchobar, it is he who has sat down at his father’s side.  It is the custom for the spear that is in his hand in sport yonder before victory ——­ before or after.  That is a goodly folk for wounding, for essaying every conflict, that has come,’ said Fergus.

‘They will find men to speak with them here,’ said Medb.

‘I swear by the god by whom my people swear,’ said Fergus, ’there has not been born in Ireland hitherto a man who would check the host of Ulster.’ [Note:  Conjectural; the line is corrupt in the MS.]

‘Another company has come there,’ said Mac Roth.  ’Greater than a cantred its number.  A great warrior, brave, with horror and terror, and he mighty, fiery-faced, before it.  Hair dark, greyish on him, and it smooth-thin on his forehead.  Around shield with engraved edge on him, a spear five-pointed in his hand, a forked javelin beside him; a hard sword on the back of his head; a purple cloak folded round him; a brooch of gold on his arm; a shirt, white, hooded, to his knee.’

‘Who is that, O Fergus?’ said Ailill.

’He is the putting of a hand on strife; he is a battle champion for fight; he is judgment against enemies who has come there; that is, Eogan Mac Durthacht, King of Fermoy is that,’ said Fergus.

’Another company has come, great, fierce, to the hill at Slemon Midi,’ said Mac Roth.  ’They have put their clothing behind them.  Truly, it is strong, dark, they have come to the hill; heavy is the terror and great the horror which they have put upon themselves; terrible the clash of arms that they made in marching.  A man thick of head, brave, like a champion, before it; and he horrible, hideous; hair light, grey on him; eyes yellow, great, in his head; a cloak yellow, with white ——­ round about him.  A shield, wound-giving, with engraved edge, on him, without; a broad spear, a javelin with a drop of blood along the shaft; and a spear its match with the blood of enemies along its edge in his hand; a great wound-giving sword on his shoulders.’

‘Who is that, O Fergus?’ said Ailill.

’The man who has so come does not avoid battle or combat or strife:  that is, Loegaire the Victorious, Mac Connaid Meic Ilech, from Immail from the north,’ said Fergus.