Then King Eocho rose, and ready made him; in that fair array Forth they rode, nor did they tarry till they came to Croghan[FN#48] Ay. Scarcely could the men of Connaught bear to see that sight, amazed At the dignity and splendour of the host on which they gazed; For that troop was great; in serried ranks the fifty riders rode, Splendid with the state recounted; pride on all their faces glowed. "Name the man who comes!" said Ailill; "Easy answer!" all replied, Eocho Bee, in Clew who ruleth, hither to thy court would ride": Court and royal house were opened; in with welcome came they all; Three long days and nights they lingered, feasting in King Ailill's hall. Then to Ailill, king of Connaught, Eocho spake: "From out my land {50} Wherefore hast thou called me hither?" "Gifts are needed from thy hand," Ailill said; "a heavy burden is that task upon me laid, To maintain the men of Ireland when for Cualgne's kine we raid." [FN#48] Pronounced Crow-han. Eocho spoke: "What gift requirest thou from me?" "For milking-kine," Ailill said, "I ask"; and Eocho, "Few of these indeed are mine! Forty sons of Munster's princes have I in my halls to rear; These, my foster-sons, beside me m my troop have journeyed here; Fifty herdsmen guard the cattle, forty cows my wards to feed, Seven times twenty graze beside them, to supply my people's need." "If, for every man who follows thee as liege, and owns a farm, Thou a cow wilt yield," said Ailill, "then from foes with power to harm I will guard thee in the battle!" "Keep then faithfully thy vows," Eocho said, "this day as tribute shall to Croghan come the cows." Thrice the sun hath set and risen while they feasting there abide, Maev and Ailill's bounty tasting, homeward then they quickly ride: But the sons of Glaschu met them, who from western Donnan came; Donnan, from the seas that bound it, Irross Donnan hath for name; Seven times twenty men attacked them, and to battle they were brought, At the isle of O'Canàda, fiercely either party fought; With his foster children round him, Eocho Bec in fight was killed, All the forty princes perished, with that news the land was filled; All through Ireland lamentation rose for every youthful chief; Four times twenty Munster princes, weeping for them, died of grief.