And yet the mother's half might well grow weary, And it new come from labours over sea.

THIRD YOUNG KING.

He has been on islands walled about with silver, And fought with giants.

(They gather about the ale vat and begin to drink.)

CUCHULLAIN.

Who was it that went out?

THIRD YOUNG KING.

As we came in?

CUCHULLAIN.

Yes.

THIRD YOUNG KING.

Barach and blind Fintain.

CUCHULLAIN.

They always flock together; the blind man Has need of the fool's eyesight and strong body, While the poor fool has need of the other's wit, And night and day is up to his ears in mischief That the blind man imagines. There's no hen-yard But clucks and cackles when he pa.s.ses by As if he'd been a fox. If I'd that ball That's in your hair and the big stone again, I'd keep them tossing, though the one is heavy And the other light in the hand. A trick I learnt When I was learning arms in Aoife's country.

FIRST YOUNG KING.

What kind of woman was that Aoife?

CUCHULLAIN.

Comely.

FIRST YOUNG KING.

But I have heard that she was never married, And yet that's natural, for I have never known A fighting woman, but made her favours cheap, Or mocked at love till she grew sandy dry.

CUCHULLAIN.

What manner of woman do you like the best?

A gentle or a fierce.

FIRST YOUNG KING.

A gentle surely.

CUCHULLAIN.

I think that a fierce woman's better, a woman That breaks away when you have thought her won, For I'd be fed and hungry at one time.

I think that all deep pa.s.sion is but a kiss In the mid battle, and a difficult peace 'Twixt oil and water, candles and dark night, Hill-side and hollow, the hot-footed sun, And the cold sliding slippery-footed moon, A brief forgiveness between opposites That have been hatreds for three times the age Of his long 'stablished ground. Here's Concobar; So I'll be done, but keep beside me still, For while he talks of hammered bronze and asks What wood is best for building, we can talk Of a fierce woman.

(Concobar, a man much older than Cuchullain, has come in through the great door at the back. He has many Kings about him. One of these Kings, Daire, a stout old man, is somewhat drunk.)

CONCOBAR.

(To one of those about him.) Has the ship gone yet? We have need of more bronze workers and that ship I sent to Africa for gold is late.

CUCHULLAIN.

I knew their talk.

CONCOBAR.

(Seeing Cuchullain.) You are before us, King.

CUCHULLAIN.

So much the better, for I welcome you Into my Muirthemne.

CONCOBAR.

But who are these?

The odour from their garments when they stir Is like a wind out of an apple garden.

CUCHULLAIN.

My swordsmen and harp players and fine dancers, My bosom friends.

CONCOBAR.

I should have thought, Cuchullain, My graver company would better match Your greatness and your years; but I waste breath In harping on that tale.

CUCHULLAIN.

You do, great King.

Because their youth is the kind wandering wave That carries me about the world; and if it sank, My sword would lose its lightness.

CONCOBAR.

Yet, Cuchullain, Emain should be the foremost town of the world.

CUCHULLAIN.

It is the foremost town.

CONCOBAR.