They brought the heralds before Mac Datho as he sat upon his throne, that he might learn of their requests before they made their meal, and in this manner they made known their message.  “We have come,” said the men who were sent from Connaught, “that we might ask for thy hound; ’tis by Ailill and Maev we are sent.  Thou shalt have in payment for him six thousand milch cows, also a two-horsed chariot with its horses, the best to be had in Connaught, and at the end of a year as much again shall be thine.”  “We also,” said the heralds from Ulster, “have come to ask for thy hound; we have been sent by Conor, and Conor is a friend who is of no less value than these.  He also will give to thee treasures and cattle, and the same amount at the end of a year, and he will be a stout friend to thee.”

Now after he had received this message Mac Datho sank into a deep silence, he ate nothing, neither did he sleep, but tossed about from one side to another, and then said his wife to him:  “For a long time hast thou fasted; food is before thee, yet thou eatest not; what is it that ails thee? and Mac Datho made her no answer, whereupon she said: 

The Wife[FN#10]

Gone is King Mac Datho’s sleep,
Restless cares his home invade;
Though his thoughts from all he keep,
Problems deep his mind hath weighed.

He, my sight avoiding, turns
Towards the wall, that hero grim;
Well his prudent wife discerns
Sleep hath passed away from him.

[FN#10] The Irish metre is followed in the first four verses.

Mac Datho

Crimthann saith, Nar’s sister’s son,
“Secrets none to women tell. 
Woman’s secret soon is won;
Never thrall kept jewel well.”

The Wife

Why against a woman speak
Till ye test, and find she fails? 
When thy mind to plan is weak,
Oft another’s wit avails.

Mac Datho

At ill season indeed came those heralds
Who his hound from Mac Datho would take;
In more wars than by thought can be counted
Fair-haired champions shall fall for its sake.

If to Conor I dare to deny him,
He shall deem it the deed of a churl
Nor shall cattle or country be left me
By the hosts he against me can hurl.

If refusal to Ailill I venture,
With all Ireland my folk shall he sack;
From our kingdom Mac Mata shall drive us,
And our ashes may tell of his track.

The Wife

Here a counsel I find to deliver,
And in woe shall our land have no share;
Of that hound to them both be thou giver,
And who dies for it little we care.

Mac Datho

Ah! the grief that I had is all ended,
I have joy for this speech from thy tongue
Surely Ailbe from heaven descended,
There is none who can say whence he sprung.