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ANCIENT ERSE

Cuchullin in his Chariot.

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“What is the cause of thy journey or thy story?”

The cause of my journey and my story

The men of Erin, yonder, as we see them,

Coming towards you on the plain.

The chariot on which is the fold, figured and cerulean,

Which is made strongly, handy, solid;

Where were active, and where were vigorous;

And where were full-wise, the noble hearted folk;

In the prolific, faithful city;—

Fine, hard, stone-bedecked, well-shafted;

Four large-chested horses in that splendid chariot;

Comely, frolicsome.

“What do we see in that chariot?”

The white-bellied, white-haired, small-eared,

Thin-sided, thin-hoofed, horse-large, steed-large horses;

With fine, shining, polished bridles;

Like a gem; or like red sparkling fire;—

Like the motion of a fawn, wounded;

Like the rustling of a loud wind in winter;—

Coming to you in that chariot.—

“What do we see in that chariot?”

We see in that chariot,

The strong, broad-chested, nimble, gray horses,—

So mighty, so broad-chested, so fleet, so choice;—

Which would wrench the sea skerries from the rocks.—

The lively, shielded, powerful horses;—

So mettlesome, so active, so clear-shining;—

Like the talon of an eagle ’gainst a fierce beast;

Which are called the beautiful Large-Gray—

The fond, large Meactroigh.

“What do we see in that chariot?”

We see in that chariot,

The horses; which are white-headed, white-hoofed,

slender-legged,

Fine-haired, sturdy, imperious;

Satin-bannered, wide-chested;

Small-aged, small-haired, small-eared;

Large-hearted, large-shaped, large-nostriled;

Slender-waisted, long-bodied,—and they are foal-like;

Handsome, playful, brilliant, wild-leaping;

Which are called the Dubh-Seimhlinn.

“Who sits in that chariot?”

He who sits in that chariot,

Is the warrior, able, powerful, well-worded,

Polished, brilliant, very graceful.—

There are seven sights on his eye;

And we think that that is good vision to him;

There are six bony, fat fingers,

On each hand that comes from his shoulder;

There are seven kinds of fair hair on his head;—

Brown hair next his head’s skin,

And smooth red hair over that;

And fair-yellow hair, of the colour of gold;

And clasps on the top, holding it fast;—

Whose name is Cuchullin, Seimh-suailte,

Son of Aodh, son of Agh, son of other Aodh.—

His face is like red sparkles;—

Fast-moving on the plain like mountain fleet-mist;

Or like the speed of a hill hind;

Or like a hare on rented level ground.—

It was a frequent step—a fast step—a joyful step;—

The horses coming towards us:—

Like snow hewing the slopes;—

The panting and the snorting,

Of the horses coming towards thee.