After this victory, the three brothers rested in the palace till they had regained their strength, and healed up their wounds by means of the apples and the pig's skin; and at the end of three days and three nights they found themselves able to undertake the next adventure. FOOTNOTES: [XLVI.] Ferdana, a poet; literally, "a man of verse." CHAPTER VIII. THE BLAZING SPEAR OF THE KING OF PERSIA. So, after holding council, they resolved to go to seek the spear of the king of Persia; and Brian reminded his brothers that now, as they had the apples and the skin to aid them, it would be all the easier to get the spear, as well as the rest of the fine. Leaving now the shores of Greece with all its blue streams, they went on board the canoe, which, at Brian's command, flew across the wide seas; and soon they made land near the palace of Pezar, king of Persia. And seeing how they had fared so well in their last undertaking, they resolved to put on the guise of poets this time also. And so they put the poet's tie on their hair, and, passing through the outer gate, they knocked at the door of the palace. The door-keeper asked who they were, and from what country they had come. "We are poets from Erin," answered Brian; "and we have brought a poem for the king." So they were admitted and brought to the presence of the king, who seated them among the nobles of his household; and they joined in the drinking and the feasting and the revelry. The king's poets now arose, and chanted their songs for the king and his guests. And when the applause had ceased, Brian, speaking softly, said to his brothers-- "Arise, now, and chant a poem for the king." But they answered, "Ask us not to do that which we are unable to do; but if you wish us to exercise the art we have learned from our youth, we shall do so, namely, the art of fighting and overcoming our foes." "That would be an unusual way of reciting poetry," said Brian; "but I have a poem for the king, and I shall now chant it for him." So saying, he stood up; and when there was silence, he recited this poem-- In royal state may Pezar ever reign, Like some vast yew tree, monarch of the plain; May Pezar's mystic javelin, long and bright, Bring slaughter to his foes in every fight! When Pezar fights and shakes his dreadful spear, Whole armies fly and heroes quake with fear: What shielded foe, what champion can withstand, The blazing spear in mighty Pezar's hand! "Your poem is a good one," said the king; "but one thing in it I do not understand, namely, why you make mention of my spear." "Because," answered Brian, "I wish to get that spear as a reward for my poem." "That is a very foolish request," said the king, "for no man ever escaped punishment who asked me for my spear. And as to your poetry, the highest reward I could now bestow on you, and the greatest favour these nobles could obtain for you, is that I should spare your life."