You think I am not worthy to be fought,
But I'll not wrangle but with this talkative knife.
CUCHULLAIN.
Put up your sword, I am not mocking you
I'd have you for my friend, but if it's not
Because you have a hot heart and a cold eye
I cannot tell the reason. You've got her fierceness
And nobody is as fierce as those pale women.
(to the young kings)
We'll keep him here in Muirthemne awhile.
A YOUNG KING.
You are the leader of our pack and therefore
May cry what you will.
CUCHULLAIN.
You'll stop with us
And we will hunt the deer and the wild bulls
And, when we have grown weary, light our fires
In sandy places where the wool-white foam
Is murmuring and breaking, and it maybe
That long-haired women will come out of the dunes
To dance in the yellow fire-light; You hang your head
Young man, as if it was not a good life;
And yet what's better than to hurl the spear,
And hear the long-remembering harp, and dance;
Friendship grows quicker in the murmuring dark;
But I can see there's no more need for words
48
