My son, and my grandson,
Of the world the shining One,
He of old Rath Line the king,
Poet-prince, my offspring.
Poet-prince, my offspring,
Overseas thy hosts thou wilt fling;
Little songster from the Brug,
Little kid, we welcome you.
[WHAT IS LOVE?]
From the "Wooing of Etain."
FOOTNOTES:
[92] Lit. "beneath the skin."