. . . astray to meet a woman—
No reproach to thee, though it was for thy sake—wretched is our last meeting!
Had we known it would be thus, it had not been hard to desist.

[Pg 10]

The noble-faced, grey-horsed warrior-band has not betrayed me.
Alas! for the wonderful yew-forest,[6] that they should have gone into the abode of clay!
Had they been alive, they would have revenged their lords;
Had mighty death not intervened, this warrior-band had not been unavenged by me.
To their very end they were brave; they ever strove for victory over their foes;
They would still sing a stave—a deep-toned shout,—they sprang from the race of a noble lord.
That was a joyous, lithe-limbed band to the very hour when they were slain:
The green-leaved forest has received them—it was an all-fierce slaughter.
Well-armed Domnall, he of the red draught, he was the Lugh[7] of the well-accoutre. . . Read More