'It would be a vow for them, to fall in rescuing their herds,' said
Cuchulainn. 'And now?'
'The beardless striplings are fighting now,' said the charioteer.
'Has a bright cloud come over the sun yet?'
'Not so,' said the charioteer.
'Alas, that I had not strength to go to them!' said Cuchulainn.
'There will be contest without that to-day,' said the charioteer, 'at sunrise; haughty folk fight the battle now,' said the charioteer, 'save that there are not kings there, for they are still asleep.'
Then Fachna said when the sun rose (or it is Conchobar who sang in his sleep):
'Arise, Kings of Macha, of mighty deeds, noble household, grind your weapons, fight the battle,' etc.
'Who has sung this?' said every one.
'Conchobar Mac Nessa,' said they; 'or Fachtna sang it,' said they.
'Sleep, sleep, save your sentinels.'