Cuchulain

Maev her daughter, Findabar,
Who all maids excelleth far,
Gave thee, not at love’s behest,
She thy kingly might would test.

Ferdia

Gently ruling Hound, I know
That was tested long ago;
None so great is known to fame,
None, till now, to match it came.

Cuchulain

All that’s chanced from thee hath sprung,
Darry’s grandchild, Daman’s son;
Woman’s hest hath brought thee here
Swords to test with comrade dear.

Ferdia

Comrade! had I fled, nor found
Fight with thee, fair graceful Hound,
Maev my word could broken call;
Croghan hold my fame but small.

Cuchulain

None put meat his lips between,
None to king or stainless queen
Yet was born, whose praise I’d gain,
None whose scorn would win thy pain.

Ferdia

Thou who deep in wars dost wade,
’Twas not thou, ’twas Maev betrayed: 
Back with conquest shalt thou ride,
Fault hast none thy fame to hide.

Cuchulain

Clots of blood my faithful heart
Choke; my soul is like to part: 
’Tis with little force my arm
Strikes, to do Ferdia harm!

“Greatly although thou makest complaint against me to-day,” said Ferdia, “tell me to what arms shall we resort?” Thine is the choice of weapons until the night,” said Cuchulain, “because it was I who had the choice in the day that is past.”  “Then,” said Ferdia, “let us this day take to our heavy hard-smiting swords; for sooner shall we attain to the end of our strife by the edge of the sword this day than we did by the thrusts of our spears in the day that is gone.”  “Let us do so indeed,” said Cuchulain.  That day they took upon them two long and exceedingly great shields, and they resorted to their heavy and hard-striking swords.  And each of them began to hew, and to cut, and to slaughter, and to destroy till larger than the head of a month-old child were the masses and the gobbets of flesh which each of them cut from the shoulders and the thighs and the shoulder-blades of his foe.

After this fashion did each of them hew at each other from the dawn of the day until the ninth hour of the even, and then Ferdia said, “Let us desist from this now, O Cuchulain!” “Let us cease indeed,” said Cuchulain, “if the time has come.”

They ceased from their strife, and they threw from them their arms into the hands of their charioteers.  Pleasant and cheerful and joyous was the meeting of the two:  mournfully, and sorrowfully, and unhappily did they part from each other that night.  Their horses were not in the same paddock, their charioteers were not at the same fire, and there they stayed for that night.