The signs about this body and in these bones.
CUCHULAIN.
To have shown the hawk’s grey feather is enough,
And you speak highly, too. Give me that helmet.
I’d thought they had grown weary sending champions.
That sword and belt will do. This fighting’s welcome.
The High King there has promised me his wisdom;
But the hawk’s sleepy till its well-beloved
Cries out amid the acorns, or it has seen
Its enemy like a speck upon the sun.