an upward stroke of his shield to guard the upper part of his body, though too late came that help, when the danger was past.  And the servant set the Gae-Bulg down the stream, and Cuchulain caught it between the toes of his foot, and he threw it with an unerring cast against Ferdia, and it broke through the firm deep apron of wrought iron, and it burst the great stone that was as large as a millstone into three parts, and it passed through the protection of his body into him, so that every crevice and cavity in him was filled with its barbs. “’Tis enough now,” said Ferdia.  “I have my death of that; and I have but breath enough to say that thou hast done an ill deed against me.  It was not right that thy hand should be that by which I should fall.”  And thus did he cry, as he gasped out these words: 

Hound, of feats so fair![FN#59]
Death from thee is ill: 
Thou the blame must bear,
Thou my blood dost spill.

Help no wretch hath found
Down this chasm of woe: 
Sick mine accents sound,
As a ghost, I go.

Torn my ribs, and burst,
Gore my heart hath filled: 
This of fights is worst,
Hound! thou hast me killed.

[FN#59] The metre is that of the Irish.

And after those words, Cuchulain ran towards him, and with his arms and armour about him, carried him northwards across the ford, in order that the slain man might be on the north side of the ford, and not upon the western side together with the men of Erin.  Then Cuchulain laid Ferdia down, and there it was that a trance and a faint and a weakness came upon Cuchulain when he saw the body of Ferdia, Laeg saw his weakness, and the men of Ireland all arose to come upon him.  “Rise up now, O Cuchulain!” said Laeg, “for the men of Erin are coming towards us, and no single combat will they give to us, since Ferdia the son of Daman, the son of Dare, has fallen by thy hand.”

“How shall I be the better for arising, O my servant!” said he, “now that he who lieth here hath fallen by me?” And it was in this manner that his servant spoke to him, and he recited these words, and thus did Cuchulain reply: 

Laeg

Now arise, Battle-Hound of Emania! 
It is joy and not grief should be sought;
For the leader of armies, Ferdia,
Thou hast slain, and hard battle hast fought.

Cuchulain

What availeth me triumph or boasting? 
For, frantic with grief for my deed,
I am driven to mourn for that body
That my sword made so sorely to bleed.

Laeg

’Tis not thou shouldst lament for his dying,
Rejoicing should spring to thy tongue;
For in malice, sharp javelins, flying
For thy wounding and bleeding he flung.

Cuchulain

I would mourn, if my leg he had severed,
Had he hewn through this arm that remains,
That he mounts not his steeds; and for ever
In life, immortality gains.