128. These were the kings and leaders who were encouraging the Fomorian host: Balor son of Dot son of Net, Bres mac Elathan, Tuire Tortbuillech mac Lobois, Goll and Irgoll, Loscennlomm mac Lommgluinigh, Indech mac De Domnann, king of the Fomoire, Ochtriallach mac Indich, Omna and Bagna, Elatha mac Delbaith.
129. On the other side, the Tuatha De Danann arose and left his nine companions guarding Lug, and went to join the battle. But when the battle ensued, Lug escaped from the guard set over him, as a chariot-fighter, and it was he who was in front of the battalion of the Tuatha De. Then a keen and cruel battle was fought between the race of the Fomoire and the men of Ireland.
Lug was urging the men of Ireland to fight the battle fiercely so they should not be in bondage any longer, because it was better for them to find death while protecting their fatherland than to be in bondage and under tribute as they had been. Then Lug chanted the spell which follows, going around the men of Ireland on one foot and with one eye closed. . . .
130. The hosts gave a great shout as they went into battle. Then they came together, and each of them began to strike the other.
131. Many beautiful men fell there in the stall of death. Great was the slaughter and the grave-lying which took place there. Pride and shame were there side by side. There was anger and indignation. Abundant was the stream of blood over the white skin of young warriors mangled by the hands of bold men while rushing into danger for shame. Harsh was the noise made by the multitude of warriors and champions protecting their swords and shields and bodies while others were striking them with spears and swords. Harsh too the tumult all over the battlefield-the shouting of the warriors and the clashing of bright shields, the swish of swords and ivory-hilted blades, the clatter and rattling of the quivers, the hum and whirr of spears and javelins, the crashing strokes of weapons.
132. As they hacked at each other their fingertips and their feet almost met; and because of the slipperiness of the blood under the warriors’ feet, they kept failing down, and their heads were cut off them as they sat. A gory, wound-inflicting, sharp, bloody battle was upheaved, and spearshafts were reddened in the hands of foes.
133. Then Nuadu Silverhand and Macha the daughter of Ernmas fell at the hands of Balor grandson of Net. Casmael fell at the hands of Ochtriallach son of Indech. Lug and Balor of the piercing eye met in the battle. The latter had a destructive eye which was never opened except on a battlefield. Four men would raise the lid of the eye by a polished ring in its lid. The host which looked at that eye, even if they were many thousands in number, would offer no resistance to warriors. It had that poisonous power for this reason: once his father’s druids were brewing magic. He came and looked over the window, and the fumes of the concoction affected the eye and the venomous power of the brew settled in it. Then he and Lug met. . . .
134. “Lift up my eyelid, lad,” said Balor, “so I may see the talkative fellow who is conversing with me.”
135. The lid was raised from Balor’s eye. Then Lug cast a sling stone at him which carried the eye through his head, and it was his own host that looked at it. He fell on top of the Fomorian host so that twenty-seven of them died under his side; and the crown of his head struck against the breast of Indech mac De Domnann so that a gush of blood spouted over his lips.
136. “Let Loch Lethglas [“Halfgreen”], my poet, be summoned to me,” said Indech. (He was half green from the ground to the crown of his head.) He came to him. “Find out for me,” said Indech, “who hurled this cast at me.” . . . Then Loch Lethglas said,
“Declare, who is the man? . . .”
Then Lug said these words in answer to him,
“A man cast
Who does not fear you.
137. Then the Morrigan the daughter of Ernmas came, and she was strengthening the Tuatha De to fight the battle resolutely and fiercely. She then chanted the following poem:
“Kings arise to the battle! . . .”
138. Immediately afterwards the battle broke, and the Fomoire were driven to the sea. The champion Ogma son of Elatha and Indech mac De Domnann fell together in single combat.
139. Loch Lethglas asked Lug for quarter. “Grant my three requests,” said Lug.
140. “You will have them,” said Loch. “I will remove the need to guard against the Fomoire from Ireland forever; and whatever judgement your tongue will deliver in any difficult case, it will resolve the matter until the end of fife.”
141. So Loch was spared. Then he chanted “The Decree of Fastening” to the Gaels. . . .
142. Then Loch said that he would give names to Lug’s nine chariots because he had been spared. So Lug said that he should name them. Loch answered and said, “Luachta, Anagat, Achad, Feochair, Fer, Golla, Fosad, Craeb, Carpat.”
143. “A question then: what are the names of the charioteers who were in them?”
“Medol, Medon, Moth, Mothach, Foimtinne, Tenda, Tres, Morb.”
144. “What are the names of the goads which were in their hands?”
“Fes, Res, Roches, Anagar, Each, Canna, Riadha, Buaid.”
145. “What are the names of the horses?”
“Can, Doriadha, Romuir, Laisad, Fer Forsaid, Sroban, Airchedal, Ruagar, Ilann, Allriadha, Rocedal.”
146. “A question: what is the number of the slain?” Lug said to Loch.
“I do not know the number of peasants and rabble. As to the number of Fomorian lords and nobles and champions and over-kings, I do know: 3 + 3 x 20 + 50 x 100 men + 20 x 100 + 3 x 50 + 9 x 5 + 4 x 20 x 1000 + 8 + 8 x 20 + 7 + 4 x 20 + 6 + 4 x 20 + 5 + 8 x 20 + 2 + 40, including the grandson of Net with 90 men. That is the number of the slain of the Fomorian over-kings and high nobles who fell in the battle.
147. “But regarding the number of peasants and common people and rabble and people of every art who came in company with the great host–for every warrior and every high noble and every overking of the Fomoire came to the battle with his personal followers, so that all fell there, both their free men and their unfree servants–I count only a few of the over-kings’ servants. This then is the number of those I counted as I watched: 7 + 7 x 20 x 20 x 100 x 100 + 90 including Sab Uanchennach son of Coirpre Colc, the son of a servant of Indech mac De Domnann (that is, the son of a servant of the Fomorian king).
148. “As for the men who fought in pairs and the spearmen, warriors who did not reach the heart of the battle who also fell there-until the stars of heaven can be counted, and the sands of the sea, and flakes of snow, and dew on a lawn, and hailstones, and grass beneath the feet of horses, and the horses of the son of Lir in a sea storm–they will not be counted at all.”
149. Immediately afterward they found an opportunity to kill Bres mac Elathan. He said, “It is better to spare me than to kill me.”
150. “What then will follow from that?” said Lug.
“The cows of Ireland will always be in milk,” said Bres, “if I am spared.”
“I will tell that to our wise men,” said Lug.
151. So Lug went to Maeltne Morbrethach and said to him, “Shall Bres be spared for giving constant milk to the cows of Ireland?”
152. “He shall not be spared,” said Maeltne. “He has no power over their age or their calving, even if he controls their milk as long as they are alive.”
153. Lug said to Bres, “That does not save you; you have no power over their age or their calving, even if you control their milk.”
154. Bres said, “Maeltne has given bitter alarms!”
155. “Is there anything else which will save you, Bres?” said Lug.
“There is indeed. Tell your lawyer they will reap a harvest every quarter in return for sparing me.”
156. Lug said to Maeltne, “Shall Bres be spared for giving the men of Ireland a harvest of grain every quarter?”
157. “This has suited us,” said Maeltne. “Spring for plowing and sowing, and the beginning of summer for maturing the strength of the grain, and the beginning of autumn for the full ripeness of the grain, and for reaping it. Winter for consuming it.”
158. “That does not save you,” said Lug to Bres.
“Maeltne has given bitter alarms,” said he.
159. “Less rescues you,” said Lug.
“What?” asked Bres.
160. “How shall the men of Ireland plow? How shall they sow? How shall they reap? If you make known these things, you will be saved.”
“Say to them, on Tuesday their plowing; on Tuesday their sowing seed in the field; on Tuesday their reaping.”
161. So through that device Bres was released.
162. Now in that battle Ogma the champion found Orna, the sword of Tethra, king of the Fomoire. Ogma unsheathed the sword and cleaned it. Then the sword told what had been done by it, because it was the habit of swords at that time to recount the deeds that had been done by them whenever they were unsheathed. And for that reason swords are entitled to the tribute of cleaning after they have been unsheathed. Moreover spells have been kept in swords from that time on. Now the reason why demons used to speak from weapons then is that weapons used to be worshipped by men and were among the sureties of that time. Loch Lethglas chanted the following poem about that sword. . . .
163. Then Lug and the Dagda and Ogma went after the Fomoire, because they had taken the Dagda’s harper, Uaithne. Eventually they reached the banqueting hall where Bres mac Elathan and Elatha mac Delbaith were. There was the harp on the wall. That is the harp in which the Dagda had bound the melodies so that they did not make a sound until he summoned them, saying,
“Come Daur Da Blao,
Come Coir Cetharchair,
Come summer, come winter,
Mouths of harps and bags and pipes!”
(Now that harp had two names, Daur Da Blao and Coir Cetharchair.)
164. Then the harp came away from the wall, and it killed nine men and came to the Dagda; and he played for them the three things by which a harper is known: sleep music, joyful music, and sorrowful music. He played sorrowful music for them so that their tearful women wept. He played joyful music for them so that their women and boys laughed. He played sleep music for them so that the hosts slept. So the three of them escaped from them unharmed–although they wanted to kill them.
165. The Dagda brought with him the cattle taken by the Fomoire through the lowing of the heifer which had been given him for his work; because when she called her calf, a the cattle of Ireland which the Fomoire had taken as their tribute began to graze.
166. Then after the battle was won and the slaughter had been cleaned away, the Morrigan, the daughter of Ernmas, proceeded to announce the battle and the great victory which had occurred there to the royal heights of Ireland and to its sid-hosts, to its chief waters and to its rivermouths. And that is the reason Badb still relates great deeds. “Have you any news?” everyone asked her then.
“Peace up to heaven.
Heaven down to earth.
Earth beneath heaven,
Strength in each,
A cup very full,
Full of honey;
Mead in abundance.
Summer in winter. . . .
Peace up to heaven . . .”
167. She also prophesied the end of the world, foretelling every evil that would occur then, and every disease and every vengeance; and she chanted the following poem:
“I shall not see a world
Which will be dear to me:
Summer without blossoms,
Cattle will be without milk,
Women without modesty,
Men without valor.
Conquests without a king . . .
Woods without mast.
Sea without produce. . . .
False judgements of old men.
False precedents of lawyers,
Every man a betrayer.
Every son a reaver.
The son will go to the bed of his father,
The father will go to the bed of his son.
Each his brother’s brother-in-law.
He will not seek any woman outside his house. . . .
An evil time,
Son will deceive his father,
Daughter will deceive . . .”