Now darting wide, now swerving round,
Now clashed together in a bound,
With splitting swords that smote so fast,
As hour by hour unheeded past.

The sands were torn and tossed like spray
Before the whirlwind of the fray,
That waged in fury till the sun
Sank, and the day's last loops were spun--
Then terrible was Goll ... He rose
A tempest of increasing blows,
More furious and fast, as dim,
Uncertain twilight fell ... More grim
And great he grew as, looming large,
He fought, and pressing to the marge
Of ocean, he o'erpowered and drave
The Viking hero back; till wave
O'er ready wave that hurried fleet,
Snuffled and snarled about their feet ...

Then with a mighty shout that made
The rocks around him ring, his blade
Swept like a flash of fire to smite
The last fell blow in that fierce fight--
So great Conn perished like The Red
By Goll's left hand ... his life-blood spread
Over the quenching sands where rolled
His head entwined with locks of gold.
Then passed like thunder o'er the sea
The Fian shout of victory.