Laeg:
"It becomes thee not to weep;
Fitter for thee to exult!
Yon red-speared one thee hath left
Plaintful, wounded, steeped in gore!"
Cuchulain:
"Even had he cleaved my leg,
And one hand had severed too;
Woe, that Ferdiad—who rode steeds—
Shall not ever be in life!"