It was then Conan, son of Morna, brought to mind that himself and his
kindred had done great harm to the sons of Baiscne, and he had a wish to
do some good thing for them on account of that, and he raised up his
sword and did great deeds.
And Finn was over the battle, encouraging the Fianna; and the King of
the World was on the other side encouraging the foreigners. "Rise up
now, Fergus," said Finn, "and praise Conan for me that his courage may
be the greater, for it is good work he is doing on my enemies." So
Fergus went where Conan was, and at that time he was heated with the
dust of the fight, and he was gone outside to let the wind go about him.
"It is well you remember the old quarrel between the sons of Morna and
the sons of Baiscne, Conan," said Fergus; "and you would be ready to go
to your own death if it would bring harm on the sons of Baiscne," he
said. "For the love of your good name, Man of Poetry," said Conan, "do
not be speaking against me without cause, and I will do good work on the
foreigners when I get to the battle again." "By my word," said Fergus,
"that would be a good thing for you to do." He sang a verse of praise
for him then, and Conan went back into the battle, and his deeds were
not worse this time than they were before. And Fergus went back to where
Finn was.
"Who is best in the battle now?" said Finn. "Duban, son of Cas, a
champion of your own people," said Fergus, "for he never gives but the
one stroke to any man, and no man escapes with his life from that
stroke, and three times nine and eighty men have fallen by him up to
this time.
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