Not long had Ferdiad's charioteer waited when he heard something: [1]A rush and a crash and a hurtling sound, and a din and a thunder,[1] *LL. fo. 83a. and a clatter and a clash, namely, the shield-cry of feat-shields, and the jangle of javelins, and the deed-striking of swords, and the thud of the helmet, [2]and the ring of spears,[2] and the clang of the cuirass, and the striking of arms, the fury of feats, the straining of ropes, and the whirr of wheels, and the creaking of the chariot, and the trampling of horses' hoofs, and the deep voice of the hero and battle-warrior [3]in grave speech with his servant[3] on his way to the ford to attack his opponent.
The servant came and touched his master with his hand [4]and awakened him.[4] "Ferdiad, master," said the youth, "rise up! They are here to meet thee at the ford." [5]Then[5] [6]Ferdiad arose and girt his body in his war-dress of battle and combat.[6] And the gilla spake these words:—
"The roll of a chariot,
Its fair yoke of silver;
A man great and stalwart
O'ertops the strong car!
O'er Bri Ross, o'er Branè
Their swift path they hasten;
Past Old-tree Town's[a] tree-stump,
Victorious they speed!