That race will now
Rule the country
Which erstwhile held
But outer nesses.
The mighty king,
Meweens, is doomed.
Now pierced by points
The Earl hath fallen.


IX.
Such bale will now
Betide the Irish
As ne'er grows old
To minding men.
The web's now woven
The wold made red,
Afar will travel
The tale of woe.


X:
An awful sight
The eye beholdeth
As blood-red clouds
Are borne through heaven;
The skies take hue
Of human blood,
Whene'er fight-maidens
Fall to singing.