.

"There was," we read, "a famous king of Leinster, called Mac Datho. This
king owned a dog, Ailbe by name, who defended the whole province and
filled Erin with his fame."[18] Ailill, king of Connaught, and
Conchobar, king of Ulster, claim the dog; and Mac Datho, much
perplexed, consults his wife, who suggests that he should promise Ailbe
to both. On the appointed day, the warriors of the two countries come to
fetch the dog of renown, and a grand banquet is served them by Mac
Datho, the principal dish of which is a rare kind of pig--"three hundred
cows had fed him for seven years." Scarcely are the guests seated, when
the dialogues begin:

"That pig looks good," says Conchobar.

"Truly, yes," replies Ailill; "but, Conchobar, how shall he be carved?"

"What more simple in this hall, where sit the glorious heroes of Erin?"
cried, from his couch, Bricriu, son of Carbad. "To each his share,
according to his fights and deeds. But ere the shares are distributed,
more than one rap on the nose will have been given and received."

"So be it," said Ailill.

"'Tis fair," said Conchobar. "We have with us the warriors who defended
our frontiers."

Then each one rises in turn and claims the honour of carving: I did
this.--I did still more.--I slew thy father.--I slew thy eldest son.--I
gave thee that wound that still aches.

The warrior Cet had just told his awful exploits when Conall of Ulster
rises against him and says:

"Since the day I first bore a spear, not often have I lacked the head of
a man of Connaught to pillow mine upon. Not a single day or night has
passed in which I slew not an enemy."

"I confess it," said Cet, "thou art a greater warrior than I; but were
Anluan in this castle, he at least could compete with thee; 'tis a pity
he is not present."

"He is here!" cried Conall, and drawing from his belt Anluan's head, he
flung it on the table.

In the "Murder of the Sons of Usnech,"[19] woman plays the principal
part. The mainspring of the story is love, and by it the heroes are led
to death, a thing not to be found elsewhere in the European literature
of the period. Still, those same heroes are not slight, fragile
dreamers; if we set aside their love, and only consider their ferocity,
they are worthy of the Walhalla of Woden. By the following example we
may see how the insular Celts could love and die.

The child of Fedelmid's wife utters a cry in its mother's womb. They
question Cathba the chief druid,