the hawk gives
That it's no sparrow. (He is silent a moment then speaks to all.)
Yet look upon me, kings;
I too am of that ancient seed and carry
The signs about this body and in these bones.
CUCHULLAIN.
To have shown the hawk's grey feather is enough
And you speak highly too.
(Cuchullain comes down from his great chair. He remains standing on the steps of the chair. The young kings gather about him and begin to arm him.)
Give me that helmet!
I'd thought they had grown weary sending champions.
That coat will do. I'd half forgotten, boy,
How all those great kings came into the mouse-trap
That had been baited with Maeve's pretty daughter.
How Findabair, that blue-eyed Findabair—
But the tale is worthy of a winter's night.
That buckle should be tighter. Give me your shield.
There is good level ground at Baile's Yew-tree
Some dozen yards from here, and it's but truth
That I am sad to-day and this fight welcome.
(He looks hard at the young man, and then steps down on to the floor of the Assembly House. He grasps the young man by the shoulder.)
46
