With cheeks than any rose more red?
The king of fleet steeds owned that head,
Said Cairbar’s son, keen lance in war;
’Twas to avenge my foster-son
I took that head and bore it far.
Whose is that head I see beyond
Inwrapt with soft and flowing hair,
His eye like glass, his teeth like bloom,
With beauty that is peerless there?
Manadh, the one that owned the steeds,