Alas!  I loved thee dearly,
Thy speech; thy ruddy face;
Thy gray-blue eyes, so clearly
That shone; thy faultless grace.

In wrath for strife advances
No chief; none shield can rear
To piercing storm of lances
Of Daman’s son the peer.

Since he whom Aife[FN#61] bore me
By me was slain in fight,
No champion stood before me
Who matched Ferdia’s might.

He came to fight, thus trusting
Might Findabar be won;
Such hopes have madmen, thrusting
With spears at sand or sun.

[FN#61] Pronounced Eefa.  See note on this line.

Still Cuchulain continued to gaze upon Ferdia.  And now, O my friend Laeg!” said Cuchulain, “strip for me the body of Ferdia, and take from him his armour and his garments, that I may see the brooch for the sake of which he undertook this combat and fight.”  Then Laeg arose, and he stripped Ferdia; he took his armour and his garments from him, and Cuchulain saw the brooch, and he began to lament and to mourn for him, and he spake these words: 

Ah! that brooch of gold![FN#62]
Bards Ferdia knew: 
Valiantly on foes
With hard blows he flew.

Curling golden hair,
Fair as gems it shone;
Leaflike sash, on side
Tied, till life had gone.

[FN#62] The metre and the rhyme-system is that of the Irish.  See notes, p. 196.

Comrade, dear esteemed! 
Bright thy glances beamed: 
Chess play thine, worth gold: 
Gold from shield rim gleamed.

None of friend had deemed
Could such tale be told! 
Cruel end it seemed: 
Ah! that brooch of gold!

“And now, O my friend Laeg!” said Cuchulain, “open the body of Ferdia, and take the Gae-Bulg out of him, for I cannot afford to be without my weapon.”  Laeg came, and he opened Ferdia’s body, and he drew the Gae-Bulg out of him, and Cuchulain saw his weapon all bloody and red by the side of Ferdia, and then he spake these words: 

Ferdia, I mourn for thy dying,
Thou art pale, although purple with gore: 
Unwashed is my weapon still lying,
And the blood-streams from out of thee pour.

Our friends in the East who have seen us,
When with Uathach and Scathach[FN#63] we dwelled,
Can bear witness, no quarrel between us
Or with words or with weapons was held.

Scathach came; and to conflict inciting
Were her accents that smote on mine ear;
“Go ye all, where a swift battle fighting,
German wields his green terrible spear!

To Ferdia, I flew with the story,
To the son of fair Baitan I sped,
And to Lugaid, whose gifts win him glory,
“Come ye all to fight German,” I said.

[FN#63] Pronounced Ooha and Scaha.

Where the land by Loch Formay lies hollowed
Had we come, fit for fight was the place;
And beside us four hundred men followed;
From the Athisech Isles was their race.

As beside me Ferdia contended
Against German, at door of his dun;
I slew Rind, who from Niul[FN#64] was descended,
I slew Rood, of Finnool was he son.