I was never one day alone to the day of the making of this grave, though it is often that myself and yourselves were in loneliness.
My sight is gone from me with looking at the grave of Naoise; it is short till my life will leave me, and those who would have keened me do not live.
Since it is through me they were betrayed I will be tired out with sorrow; it is a pity I was not in the earth before the sons of Usnach were killed.
Sorrowful was my journey with Fergus, betraying me to the Red Branch; we were deceived all together with his sweet, flowery words. I left the delights of Ulster for the three heroes that were bravest; my life will not be long, I myself am alone after them.
I am Deirdre without gladness, and I at the end of my life; since it is grief to be without them, I myself will not be long after them!
[Emer’s Lament for Cuchulain]
And Emer took the head of Cuchulain in her hands, and she washed it clean, and put a silk cloth about it, and she held it to her breast, and she began to cry heavily over it, and she made this complaint:
Och, head! Ochone, O head! you gave death to great heroes, to many hundreds; my head will lie in the same grave, the one stone will be made for both of us.
Och, hand! Ochone, hand, that was once gentle. It is often it was put under my head; it is dear that hand was to me.
Dear mouth! Ochone, kind mouth that was sweet-voiced telling stories; since the time love first came on your face, you never refused either weak or strong.