Gold-hilted in his hand I see his sword; Two spears he holds, with spear-heads grim and green; Around his shield the yellow gold is poured, And in its midst a silver boss is seen. Fair Fergus ruin on us all hath brought! We crossed the ocean, and to him gave heed: His honour by a cup of ale was bought; From him hath passed the fame of each high deed. If Ulster on this plain were gathered here Before king Conor; and those troops he'd give, I'd lose them all, nor think the bargain dear, If I with Naisi, Usna's son, could live. Break not, O king, my heart to-day in me; For soon, though young, I come my grave unto: My grief is stronger than the strength of sea; Thou, Conor, knowest well my word is true. "Whom dost thou hate the most," said Conor, "of these whom thou now seest?" "Thee thyself," she answered, "and with thee Eogan the son of Durthacht." [FN#44] Pronounced find-roony; usually translated "white bronze." "Then," said Conor, "thou shalt dwell with Eogan for a year;" and he gave Deirdre over into Eogan's hand. Now upon the morrow they went away over the festal plain of Macha, and Deirdre sat behind Eogan in the chariot; and the two who were with her were the two men whom she would never willingly have seen together upon the earth, and as she looked upon them, "Ha, Deirdre," said Conor, "it is the same glance that a ewe gives when between two rams that thou sharest now between me and Eogan!" Now there was a great rock of stone in front of them, and Deirdre struck her head upon that stone, and she shattered her head, and so she died. This then is the tale of the exile of the sons of Usnach, and of the Exile of Fergus, and of the death of Deirdre. THE LAMENT OF DEIRDRE OVER THE SONS OF USNACH ACCORDING TO THE GLENN MASAIN VERSION ALSO THE CONCLUSION OF THE TALE FROM THE SAME VERSION I grieved not, Usna's sons beside; But long, without them, lags the day: Their royal sire no guest denied; Three lions from Cave Hill were they. Three dragons bred in Mona's fort Are dead: to them from life I go; Three chiefs who graced the Red Branch Court, Three rocks, who broke the rush of foe. O loved by many a British maid! O swift as hawks round Gullion's peak! True sons of king, who warriors swayed, To whom bent chiefs in homage meek. No vassal look those champions wore; Full grief is mine that such should die! Those sons, whom Cathbad's daughter bore; Those props, who Cualgne's[FN#45] war held high. [FN#45] Pronounced Kell-ny. Three bears of might, to war they came; From Oona's walls, like lions, burst; Three hero-chiefs, who loved their fame; Three sons, on Ulster's bosom nursed. Twas Aife[FN#46] reared them; 'neath her yoke A kingdom bowed, and tribute brought; They propped the war, when armies broke, Those foster-sons, whom Scathach[FN#47] taught. The Three, who once from Bohvan's skill All feats have learned that heroes know; King Usna's glorious sons! 'tis ill That these afar from me should go.