He gave us back no answer clear,
But in the nimble Caoilte’s ear
He breathed his tale—O, tale of grief!—
That in him we saw the Fenian chief!
Three sudden shouts to hear the tale
Our host raised loud and shrill—
The badgers started in the vale,
The wild deer on the hill.
Then Conan fierce unsheathed his sword,
And curs’d the Fenian king and his horde.