"Ye cannot," says Ingcél. "Clouds," etc. "And after that whom sawest thou?" THE ROOM OF CONAIRE HIMSELF "There I beheld a room, more beautifully decorated than the other rooms of the house. A silvery curtain around it, and there were ornaments in the room. I beheld a trio in it. The outer two of them were, both of them, fair, with their hair and eyelashes; and they are as bright as snow. A very lovely blush on the cheek of each of the twain. A tender lad in the midst between them. The ardour and energy of a king has he, and the counsel of a sage. The mantle I saw around him is even as the mist of Mayday. Diverse are the hue and semblance each moment shewn upon it. Lovelier is each hue than the other. In front of him in the mantle I beheld a wheel of gold which reached from his chin to his navel. The colour of his hair was like the sheen of smelted gold. Of all the world's forms that I beheld, this is the most beautiful. I saw his golden-hilted glaive down beside him. A forearm's length of the sword was outside the scabbard. That forearm, a man down in the front of the house could see a fleshworm by the shadow of the sword! Sweeter is the melodious sounding of the sword than the melodious sound of the golden pipes that accompany music in the palace." "Then," quoth Ingcél, "I said, gazing at him: I see a high, stately prince, etc. I see a famous king, etc. I see his white prince's diadem, etc. I see his two blue-bright cheeks, etc. I see his high wheel ... round his head ... which is over his yellow-curly hair. I see his mantle red, many-coloured, etc. I see therein a huge brooch of gold, etc. I see his beautiful linen frock ... from ankle to kneecaps. I see his sword golden-hilted, inlaid, its in scabbard of white silver, etc. I see his shield bright, chalky, etc. A tower of inlaid gold," etc. Now the tender warrior was asleep, with his feet in the lap of one of the two men and his head in the lap of the other. Then he awoke out of his sleep, and arose, and chanted this lay: "The howl of Ossar (Conaire's dog) ... cry of warriors on the summit of Tol Géisse; a cold wind over edges perilous: a night to destroy a king is this night." He slept again, and awoke thereout, and sang this rhetoric: "The howl of Ossar ... a battle he announced: enslavement of a people: sack of the Hostel: mournful are the champions: men wounded: wind of terror: hurling of javelins: trouble of unfair fight: wreck of houses: Tara waste: a foreign heritage: like is lamenting Conaire: destruction of corn: feast of arms: cry of screams: destruction of Erin's king: chariots a-tottering: oppression of the king of Tara: lamentations will overcome laughter: Ossar's howl." He said the third time: