Sure, I have loved thee through storm and peace, through the day and the night;
Sure, I have set the singing of songs to a marvellous swan-song for thee,
And death I have dared, and life have I dared, and gloom and the grave,
And yet, O Fand, thou laughest down on my pain, on my pain, O Fand.
All things have I thrown away gladly only to win thee—
Kingship and lordship of men, the fame of the sword, and all good things—
For in thee at the last, I dreamed, in thee, O Fand, Queen of Women,
I had found all that a man may find, and was as the gods who die not.
But what of all this to me, who am Ulad the King, the Harper,
Ulad the Singer of Songs that are fire in the hearts of the hearers,