Conall, all hail!
Hard stony spleen
Wild glowing flame!
Ice-glitter keen!
Blood in thy breast
Rageth and boils;
Oft didst thou wrest
Victory's spoils:
Thou scarred son of Finuchoem,[FN#16] thou truly canst claim
To stand rival to me, and to match me in fame!


And Conall replied to him:

Hail to thee, Ket!
Well are we met!
Heart icy-cold,
Home for the bold!
Ender of grief!
Car-riding chief!
Sea's stormy wave!
Bull, fair and brave!
Ket! first of the children of Matach!
The proof shall be found when to combat we dart,
The proof shall be found when from combat we part;
He shall tell of that battle who guardeth the stirks,
He shall tell of that battle at handcraft who works;
And the heroes shall stride to the wild lion-fight,