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Forged was I by Culain the Smith

In an isle of the sea;

Spells were woven and demons called

To the making of me.

Lord of a myriad deaths am I,

The Taker of Life;

I the invincible, I the brave,

The lover of strife.

Hold me fast in thy hand, O Fionn,

For I hear with glee,

Feet of a multitude moving swift,

To be slain by me.

The spear writhed and twisted in Fionn's hand, and pointed to the doorway, and so great was the strength in it that Fionn's mighty arm was stretched to the uttermost.

"Oh, my bright treasure," he cried again to it, "the song you sing is indeed to my mind, and I think that the slaughter you will do this night will be such that men will remember you in ages yet to come. But listen, what is that noise?" he said to Donn, as a sound like sea-waves rolling over shingle, or like innumerable spears clashing on shields, fell on his ear.

"The warriors of the Tuatha de Danann are coming," said one of the sons of Midir, rushing in.