Then they set him on the table, and Eisirt declared his name and calling.  The King ordered that meat and drink should be given him, but Eisirt said, “I will neither eat of your meat nor drink of ale.”  “By our word,” said Fergus, “’tis a haughty wight; he ought to be dropped into a goblet that he might at least drink all round him.”  The cupbearer seized Eisirt and put him into a tankard of ale, and he swam on the surface of it.  “Ye wise men of Ulster,” he cried, “there is much knowledge and wisdom ye might get from me, yet ye will let me be drowned!” “What, then?” cried they.  Then Eisirt, beginning with the King, set out to tell every hidden sin that each man or woman had done, and ere he had gone far they with much laughter and chiding fetched him out of the ale-pot and dried him with fair satin napkins.  “Now ye have confessed that I know somewhat to the purpose,” said Eisirt, “and I will even eat of your food, but do ye give heed to my words, and do ill no more.”

Fergus then said, “If thou art a poet, Eisirt, give us now a taste of thy delightful art.”  “That will I,” said Eisirt, “and the poem that I shall recite to you shall be an ode in praise of my king, Iubdan the Great.”  Then he recited this lay:—­

   “A monarch of might
   Is Iubdan my king. 
   His brow is snow-white,
   His hair black as night;
   As a red copper bowl
   When smitten will sing,
   So ringeth the voice
   Of Iubdan the king. 
   His eyen, they roll
   Majestic and bland
   On the lords of his land
   Arrayed for the fight,
   A spectacle grand! 
   Like a torrent they rush
   With a waving of swords
   And the bridles all ringing
   And cheeks all aflush,
   And the battle-steeds springing,
   A beautiful, terrible, death-dealing band. 
   Like pines, straight and tall,
   Where Iubdan is king,
   Are the men one and all. 
   The maidens are fair—­
   Bright gold is their hair. 
   From silver we quaff
   The dark, heady ale
   That never shall fail;
   We love and we laugh. 
   Gold frontlets we wear;
   And aye through the air
   Sweet music doth ring—­
   O Fergus, men say
   That in all Inisfail
   There is not a maiden so proud or so wise
   But would give her two eyes
   Thy kisses to win—­
   But I tell thee, that there
   Thou canst never compare
   With the haughty, magnificent King of Faylinn!”

At this they all applauded, and Fergus said, “O youth and blameless bard, let us be friends henceforth.”  And they all heaped before him, as a poet’s reward, gifts of rings and jewels and gold cups and weapons, as high as a tall man standing.  Then Eisirt said, “Truly a generous and a worthy reward have ye given me, O men of Ulster; yet take back these precious things I pray you, for every man in my king’s household hath an abundance of them.”  But the Ulster lords said, “Nothing that we have given may we take back.”  Eisirt then bade two-thirds of his reward be given to the bards and learned men of Ulster, and one-third to the horse-boys and jesters; and so it was done.