IX. THE PROPOSALS
Joseph Dunn translation
Accordingly this was the greatest word of scorn and insult spoken on the Cow-Raid of Cualnge, to make a lordling of the best king of a province in Erin, even of Conchobar.
Medb:
"If that be the noble Hound, Of whom ye of Ulster boast, What man e'er stout foe hath faced, Will fend him from Erin's men!"
Fergus:
"Howe'er young the Hound thou seest, That Murthemne's Plain doth course, That man hath not stood on earth Whom he'd crush not with his might!"
Medb:
"We will bring this warrior terms; If he slight them, he is mad: Half his cows, his women, half. He shall change his way of fight!"
Fergus:
"My wish, that yell not o'ercome This Hound from proud Murthemne! Deeds he fears not—fierce and bright— This I know, if it be he!"
Medb:
Keep thy staff-sling far from us;
Thy fierce, famed fight hath us ruined,
Hath us broken and confused!"
Cuchulain:
"Medb of Mur, he, Maga's son, No base arrant wight am I. While I live I'll never cease Cualnge's raid to harass sore!"
Medb:
"If thou wilt take this from us,
Valiant chief, thou Cualnge's Hound;
Half thy cows, thy women, half,
Cuchulain:
"As by right of thrusts am I Ulster's champion and defence, Naught I'll yield till I retrieve Cow and woman ta'en from Gael!"
Medb:
"What thou askest is too much, After slaughtering our fair troops, That we keep but steeds and gauds, All because of one sole man!"
Cuchulain:
"Eocho's daughter, fair, of Fal,
I'm not good at wars of words;
Counsel mine is little worth!"
Medb:
"Shame thou hast none for what thou sayest,
Famous are the terms for thee,
O thou battling Culann's Hound!"
When this lay was finished, Cuchulain accepted none of the terms which she had offered. In such wise they parted in the valley and withdrew in equal anger on the one side and on the other.
The warriors of four of the five grand provinces of Erin pitched camp and took quarters for three days and three nights at Druim En ('Birds' Ridge') in Conalle Murthemni, but neither huts nor tents did they set up, nor did they W. 1688. engage in feasts or repasts, nor sang they songs nor carols those three nights. And Cuchulain destroyed a hundred of their warriors every night ere the bright hour of sunrise on the morrow.