“Measure it the other way against the hair,
And measure, Diarmad, carefully the boar.”
It was indeed for thee a mournful deed,
Furth of the sharply-pointed, piercing arms,
He went, the errand grievous was and sad,
And measured for them once again the boar.
The envenomed pointed bristle sharply pierced
The soul of him the bravest in the field.
Then fell and lay upon the grassy plain
The noble Mac O’Duine, whose look spoke truth;