The succour of the band, should be
Found faltering or in despair?
Until that day the Fians ne'er
Of one man had such fear.

Old Goll
Sat musing on a grassy knoll,
They deemed he shared their dread ... Not so
Wise Finn, who spake forth firm and slow--
"Goll, son of Morna, peerless man,
The keen desire of every clan,
Far-famed for many a valiant deed,
Strong hero in the time of need.
I vaunt not Conn ... nor deem that thou
Dost falter, save with meekness, now--
But why shouldst thou not take the head
Of this bold youth, as of The Red,
His sire, in other days?"

Goll spake--
"O noble Finn, for thy sweet sake
Mine arms I'd seize with ready hand,
Although to answer thy command
My blood to its last drop were spilled--
By Crom! were all the Fians killed,
My sword would never fail to be
A strong defence to succour thee."

Upon his hard right arm with haste
His crooked and pointed shield he braced,