“O fire-gillie of Fergus of the Feasts, never by land or sea burn the King of the woods, High King of the forests of Inisfail, whom none may bind, but who like a strong monarch holds all the other trees in hard bondage.  If thou burn the twining one, misfortune will come of it, peril at the point of spear, or drowning in the waves.

“Burn not the sweet apple-tree of drooping branches, of the white blossoms, to whose gracious head each man puts forth his hand.

“The stubborn blackthorn wanders far and wide, the good craftsman burns not this timber; little though its bushes be, yet flocks of birds warble in them.

“Burn not the noble willow, the unfailing ornament of poems; bees drink from its blossoms, all delight in the graceful tent.

“The delicate, airy tree of the druids, the rowan with its berries, this burn; but avoid the weak tree, burn not the slender hazel.

“The ash-tree of the black buds burn not—­timber that speeds the wheel, that yields the rider his switch; the ashen spear is the scale-beam of battle.

“The tangled, bitter bramble, burn him, the sharp and green; he flays and cuts the foot; he snares you and drags you back.

“Hottest of timber is the green oak; he will give you a pain in the head if you use him overmuch, a pain in the eyes will come from his biting fumes.

“Full-charged with witchcraft is the alder, the hottest tree in the fight; burn assuredly both the alder and the whitehorn at your will.

“Holly, burn it in the green and in the dry; of all trees in the world, holly is absolutely the best.

“The elder-tree of the rough brown bark, burn him to cinders, the steed of the Fairy Folk.

“The drooping birch, by all means burn him too, the tree of long-lasting bloom.

“And lay low, if it pleases you, the russet aspen; late or early, burn the tree with the quaking plumage.

“The yew is the venerable ancestor of the wood as the companion of feasts he is known; of him make goodly brown vats for ale and wine.

“Follow my counsel, O man of the smoke, and it shall go well with you, body and soul.”

So Iubdan continued in Emania free to go and come as he pleased; and all the Ulstermen delighted to watch him and to hear his conversation.

One day it chanced that he was in the chamber of the Queen, and saw her putting on her feet a very dainty and richly embroidered pair of shoes.  At this Iubdan gave a laugh.  “Why dost thou laugh?” said Fergus.  “Meseems the healing is applied very far from the hurt,” replied Iubdan.  “What meanest thou by that?” said Fergus.  “Because the Queen is making her feet fine in order, O Fergus, that she may attract thee to her lips,” said Iubdan.

Another time it chanced that Iubdan overheard one of the King’s soldiers complaining of a pair of new brogues that had been served out to him, and grumbling that the soles were too thin.  At this Iubdan laughed again, and being asked why, he said, “I must need laugh to hear yon fellow grumbling about his brogues, for the soles of these brogues, thin as they are, he will never wear out.”  And this was a true prophecy, for the same night this and another of the King’s men had a quarrel, and fought, and killed each the other.