Of rings great treasure sending,[FN#51] Wide plains and woodlands bending I grant: till time hath ending I free thy tribe and kin. O thou who oft o'ercamest! 'Tis thine what gift thou namest! Why hold'st thou back, nor claimest A boon that all would win? [FN#51] The metre of this dialogue and rhyme-system are taken from the Irish but one syllable has been added to each line. The exact Irish metre is that given on page 129. Ferdia A bond must hold thee tightly, No force I lend thee lightly; Dread strife 'twill be; for rightly He bears that name of "Hound." For sharp spear-combat breaketh That morn; hard toil it waketh The war Cuchulain maketh Shall fearless war be found. Maev Our chiefs, with oaths the gravest, Shall give the pledge thou cravest; For thee, of all men bravest, Brave bridled steeds shall stand. From tax my word hath freed thee, To hostings none shall lead thee, As bosom friend I need thee, As first in all the land. Ferdia Mere words are naught availing If oaths to bind be failing; That wondrous Ford-Fight hailing, All time its tale shall greet: Though sun, moon, sea for ever And earth from me I sever; Though death I win--yet never, Unpledged, that war I'll meet. Maev These kings and chiefs behind me Their oaths shall pledge to bind me: With boundless wealth thou'lt find me, With wealth too great to pay. 'Tis thou who oaths delayest; 'Tis done whate'er thou sayest; For well I know thou slayest The foe who comes to slay. Ferdia Ere thou to slaughter lure me, Six champions' oaths procure me; Till these rewards assure me I meet, for thee, no foe: If six thou grant as gages, I'll face the war he wages, And where Cuchulain rages, A lesser chief, I go. Maev In chariots Donnal raceth, Fierce strife wild Neeman faceth, Their halls the bards' song graceth, Yet these in troth I bind. Firm pledge Morand is making, None Carpri Min knew breaking His troth: thine oath he's taking; Two sons to pledge I find. Ferdia Much poison, Maev, inflameth Thy heart; no smile thee tameth But well the land thee nameth Proud queen of Croghan's hold; Thy power no man can measure; 'Tis I will do thy pleasure; Now send thy silken treasure, Thy silver gifts, and gold. Maev This brooch, as champion's token, I give of troth unbroken; All words my lips have spoken Performed shall Sunday see. Thou glorious chief, who darest This fight, I give thee rarest Of gifts on earth, and fairest, Yea greater meed shall be. For Findabar my daughter; All Elgga's chiefs have sought her; When thou that Hound shalt slaughter, I give in love to thee.