Táin Bó Cuailgne

Cruachan

I see a battle-A blonde man,
With much blood about his belt,
And a hero-halo 'Round his head,
Whole hosts he will destroy.

His jaws are settled in a snarl,
He wears a looped, red tunic,
In thousands you will yield your heads,
His form dragonish in the fray.

A giant on the plain I see,
Doing battle with the host,
Holding in each of his two hands
Four gore ladened battle-axes.

I see him hurling against that host,
Two Gae-bolga and a spear,
He towers on the battle field,
In breastplate and red cloak.

Across the bladed chariot wheel,
The warped warrior deals death,
That fair from I first beheld,
Melted to a mis-shape.
I see him moving into the fray,
Take warning, watch him well,
Cuchulainn, Suailtim's son!
Making dense massacre.

The blood starts from warriors wounds,
Total ruin, at his touch,
Torn corpses, women wailing,
Because of him-The Forge Hound