"Famous deeds," he said, "are not wrought now amongst the Red
Branch. I think we are all become women. I grow weary of these
huntings in the morning and mimic exercises of war, and this
training of steeds and careering of brazen chariots stained never
with aught but dust and mire, and these unearned feastings at
night and vain applause of the brave deeds of our forefathers.
Come now, let us make an end of this. Let us conquer Banba
[Footnote: One of Ireland's many names.] wholly in all her green
borders, and let the realms of Lir, which sustain no foot of man,
be the limit of our sovereignty. Let us gather the tributes of all
Ireland, after many battles and much warlike toil. Then more
sweetly shall we drink while the bards chaunt our own prowess.
Once I knew a coward who boasted endlessly about his forefathers,
and at last my anger rose, and with a flat hand I slew him in the
middle of his speech, and paid no eric, for he was nothing. We
have the blood of heroes in our veins, and we sit here nightly
boasting about them; about Rury, whose name we bear, being all his
children; and Macha the warrioress, who brought hither bound the
sons of Dithorba and made them rear this mighty dun; and Combat
son of Fiontann; and my namesake Fergus,[Footnote: This was the
king already referred to who slew the sea-monster. The monster had
left upon him that mark and memorial of the struggle.] whose
crooked mouth was no dishonour, and the rest of our hero sires;
and we consume the rents and tributes of Ulster which they by
their prowess conquered to us, and which flow hither in abundance
from every corner of the province. Valiant men, too, will one day
come hither and slay us as I slew that boaster, and here in Emain
Macha their bards will praise them. Then in the halls of the dead
shall we say to our sires, 'All that you got for us by your blood