Then Fand bade welcome to Laeg, and “How is it,” said she, “that Cuchulain hath not come with thee?” “It pleased him not,” said Laeg, “to come at a woman’s call; moreover, he desired to know whether it was indeed from thee that had come the message, and to have full knowledge of everything.”  “It was indeed from me that the message was sent,” she said; “and let now Cuchulain come swiftly to seek us, for it is for to-day that the strife is set.”  Then Laeg went back to the place where he had left Cuchulain, and Liban with him; and “How appeareth this quest to thee, O Laeg?” said Cuchulain.  And Laeg answering said, “In a happy hour shalt thou go,” said he, “for the battle is set for to-day;” and it was in this manner that he spake, and he recited thus: 

I went gaily through regions,
Though strange, seen before: 
By his cairn found I Labra,
A cairn for a score.

There sat yellow-haired Labra,
His spears round him rolled;
His long bright locks well gathered
Round apple of gold.

On my five-folded purple
His glance at length fell,
And he said, “Come and enter
Where Failbe doth dwell.”

In one house dwells white Failbe,
With Labra, his friend;
And retainers thrice fifty
Each monarch attend.

On the right, couches fifty,
Where fifty men rest;
On the left, fifty couches
By men’s weight oppressed.

For each couch copper frontings,
Posts golden, and white;
And a rich flashing jewel
As torch, gives them light.

Near that house, to the westward,
Where sunlight sinks down,
Stand grey steeds, with manes dappled
And steeds purple-brown.

On its east side are standing
Three bright purple trees
Whence the birds’ songs, oft ringing
The king’s children please.

From a tree in the fore-court
Sweet harmony streams;
It stands silver, yet sunlit
With gold’s glitter gleams.

Sixty trees’ swaying summits
Now meet, now swing wide;
Rindless food for thrice hundred
Each drops at its side.

Near a well by that palace
Gay cloaks spread out lie,
Each with splendid gold fastening
Well hooked through its eye.

They who dwell there, find flowing
A vat of glad ale: 
’Tis ordained that for ever
That vat shall not fail.

From the hall steps a lady
Well gifted, and fair: 
None is like her in Erin;
Like gold is her hair.

And so sweet, and so wondrous
Her words from her fall,
That with love and with longing
She breaks hearts of all.

“Who art thou?” said that lady,
“For strange thou art here;
But if Him of Murthemne
Thou servest, draw near.”

Slowly, slowly I neared her;
I feared for my fame: 
And she said, “Comes he hither,
Of Dechtire who came?”

Ah! long since, for thy healing,
Thou there shouldst have gone,
And have viewed that great palace
Before me that shone.