I see a battle-A blonde man, with much blood about his belt, and a hero-halo `Round his head, whole hosts he will destroy.
His jaws are settled in a snarl, he wears a looped, red tunic, in thousands you will yield your heads, his form dragonish in the fray.
A giant on the plain I see, doing battle with the host, holding in each of his two hands four gore ladened battle-axes.
I see him hurling against that host, Two Gae-bolga and a spear, he towers on the battle field, in breastplate and red cloak.
Across the bladed chariot wheel, the warped warrior deals death, that fair from I first beheld, melted to a mis-shape. I see him moving into the fray, take warning, watch him well, Cuchulainn, Suailtim`s son! making dense massacre.
The blood starts from warriors wounds, -total ruin, at his touch, torn corpses, women wailing, because of him-The Forge Hound
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