it was I who was thy husband.  And when thou camest to be wife to me, thou didst leave a great price behind thee; even a marriage price of the chief plains and waters of Ireland, and as much of gold and of silver as might match thee in value.”  “Why,” said she, “what is thy name?” “’Tis easy to say,” he answered; “Mider of Bri Leith is my name.”  “Truly,” said she; “and what was the cause that parted us?” “That also is easy,” he said; “it was the sorcery of Fuamnach, and the spells of Bressal Etarlam.  And then Mider said to Etain: 

Wilt thou come to my home, fair-haired lady? to dwell
In the marvellous land of the musical spell,
Where the crowns of all heads are, as primroses, bright,
And from head to the heel all men’s bodies snow-white.

In that land of no “mine” nor of “thine” is there speech,
But there teeth flashing white and dark eyebrows hath each;
In all eyes shine our hosts, as reflected they swarm,
And each cheek with the pink of the foxglove is warm.

With the heather’s rich tint every blushing neck glows,
In our eyes are all shapes that the blackbird’s egg shows;
And the plains of thine Erin, though pleasing to see,
When the Great Plain is sighted, as deserts shall be.

Though ye think the ale strong in this Island of Fate,
Yet they drink it more strong in the Land of the Great;
Of a country where marvel abounds have I told,
Where no young man in rashness thrusts backward the old.

There are streams smooth and luscious that flow through that land,
And of mead and of wine is the best at each hand;
And of crime there is naught the whole country within,
There are men without blemish, and love without sin.

Through the world of mankind, seeing all, can we float,
And yet none, though we see them, their see-ers can note;
For the sin of their sire is a mist on them flung,
None may count up our host who from Adam is sprung.

Lady, come to that folk; to that strong folk of mine;
And with gold on thy head thy fair tresses shall shine: 
’Tis on pork the most dainty that then thou shalt feed,
And for drink have thy choice of new milk and of mead.

“I will not come with thee,” answered Etain, “I will not give up the king of Ireland for thee, a man who knows not his own clan nor his kindred.”  “It was indeed myself,” said Mider, “who long ago put beneath the mind of Ailill the love that he hath felt for thee, so that his blood ceased to run, and his flesh fell away from him:  it was I also who have taken away his desire, so that there might be no hurt to thine honour.  But wilt thou come with me to my land,” said Mider, “in case Eochaid should ask it of thee?” “I would come in such case,” answered to him Etain.

After all this Etain departed to the house.  “It hath indeed been good, this our tryst,” said Ailill, “for I have been cured of my sickness; moreover, in no way has thine honour been stained.” “’Tis glorious that it hath fallen out so,” answered Etain.  And afterwards Eochaid came back from his royal progress, and he was grateful for that his brother’s life had been preserved, and he gave all thanks to Etain for the great deed she had done while he was away from his palace.