Yea! Ferdia's power I know; How from foughten field we go; How was fought our piercing war, Bards shall tell to ages far. Fergus Loss of much I'd little mourn Could I hear how, eastward borne, Great Cuchulain's bloody blade Proud Ferdia's spoils displayed. Cuchulain Though in boasts I count me weak, Hear me now as braggart speak: Daman's son, of Darry's race, Soon shall I, his victor, face. Fergus Brought by me, hosts eastward came, Ulster sought to hurt my fame; Here have come, to ease my grief, Many a champion, many a chief. Cuchulain Sickness Conor's might withheld, Else his sight thy host had quelled; Less the shouts of joy had been, Raised by Maev, Maw Scayl's high queen. Fergus Greater deeds than done by me O Cuchulain! thine shall be: Daman's son thy battle nears; Hear thy friend! keep hard thy spears. Then Fergus returned to where the army was encamped: Ferdia, also went from Maev and came to his own tent; and there he found his followers, and he told them how he had been bound to Maev as in an easy task, that he was on the morrow to combat and fight with six of her champions, or to make duel with Cuchulain, whichever of the two he might think the easier. Also he told them how she had been bound by a condition that was easy for her to grant: that she should lay it on these same six champions to see that her promises to him of rewards should be fulfilled in case Cuchulain met his death at Ferdia's hand. There was no cheerfulness, or happiness, or even melancholy pleasure among the inmates of Ferdia's camp that night: they were all cheerless, and sorrowful, and low in spirit; for they knew that whenever those two champions, those two slayers of hundreds met, one of the two must fall in that place, or that both of them should fall: and if one only was to fall they were sure that that one would be their own master; for it was not easy for any man to combat and fight with Cuchulain on the Tain bo Cuailnge. Now the first part of that night Ferdia slept very heavily, and when the middle of the night had come his sleep had left him, and the dizziness of his brain has passed away, and care for the combat and the fight pressed heavily upon him. Then he called for his charioteer to harness his horses, and to yoke his chariot; and the charioteer began to rebuke him, if haply he might turn him from his purpose. "It would be better for thee to stay!" said the charioteer. "Be thou silent, O my servant!" said Ferdia, and he then spoke the words that follow, and thus did his servant reply to him:-- Ferdia 'Tis a challenge provoking To war, and I go Where the ravens' hoarse croaking Shall rise for my foe: With Cuchulain still seeking The strife at yon ford; Till his strong body, reeking, Be pierced by my sword! Servant