[2-2] Stowe, Eg. 106 and Eg. 209.

    [c] That is, Conlaech.

Then Cuchulain turned to gaze on Ferdiad.  “Ah, my master Laeg,” cried Cuchulain, “now strip Ferdiad and take his armour and garments off him, that I may see the brooch for the sake of which he entered on the combat and fight [1]with me."[1] Laeg came up and stripped Ferdiad.  He took his armour and garments off him and he saw the brooch [2]and he placed the brooch in Cuchulain’s hand,[2] and Cuchulain began to lament and complain [3]over Ferdiad,[3] and he spake these words:—­

    “Alas, golden brooch;
    Ferdiad of the hosts,
    O good smiter, strong,
    Victorious thy hand!

    “Thy hair blond and curled,
    A wealth fair and grand. 
    Thy soft, leaf-shaped belt
    Around thee till death!

    “Our comradeship dear;
    Thy noble eye’s gleam;
    Thy golden-rimmed shield;
    Thy sword,[a] treasures worth!

[4]"Thy white-silver torque Thy noble arm binds.  Thy chess-board worth wealth; Thy fair, ruddy cheek![4]

    “To fall by my hand,
    I own was not just! 
    ’Twas no noble fight. 
    Alas, golden brooch!

[1]"Thy death at Cu’s hand Was dire, O dear calf![a] Unequal the shield Thou hadst for the strife!

    “Unfair was our fight,
    Our woe and defeat! 
    Fair the great chief;
    Each host overcome
    And put under foot! 
    Alas, golden brooch!"[1]

    [1-1] Stowe.

    [2-2] Stowe.

    [3-3] Stowe.

    [a] Reading with YBL. 39b, 31, as more intelligible than the
    ‘chess-board’ of LL., which occurs in the next stanza.

    [4-4] YBL. 39b, 31-33.

    [1-1] YBL. 39b, 35-39.

    [a] A term of endearment which survives in Modern Irish.

[W.4092.] “Come, O Laeg my master,” cried Cuchulain; “now cut open Ferdiad and take the Gae Bulga out, because I may not be without my weapons.”  Laeg came and cut open Ferdiad and he took the Gae Bulga out of him.  And Cuchulain saw his weapons bloody and red-stained by the side of Ferdiad, and he uttered these words:—­

    “O Ferdiad, in gloom we meet. 
    Thee I see both red and pale. 
    I myself with unwashed arms;
    Thou liest in thy bed of gore!

    “Were we yonder in the East,
    Scathach and our Uathach near,
    There would not be pallid lips
    Twixt us two, and arms of strife!

    “Thus spake Scathach trenchantly (?),
    Words of warning, strong and stern: 
    ’Go ye all to furious fight;
    German, blue-eyed, fierce will come!’

    “Unto Ferdiad then I spake,
    And to Lugaid generous,
    To the son of fair Baetan,[b]
    German we would go to meet!

    “We came to the battle-rock,
    Over Lake Linn Formait’s shore. 
    And four hundred men we brought[c]
    From the Isles of the Athissech!