That sharp deadly spear I hurled,
Loch, [1]Mobebuis'[1] son, fell there!
"Will not Ulster battle give
To Ailill and Eocho's lass,[b]
While I linger here in pain,
Full of wounds and bathed in blood?
LL. fo. 75b.
"Tell the splendid Ulster chiefs
They shall come to guard their drove.
Maga's sons[c] have seized their kine