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 and hacked its way through whoever chanced before it. Wherever the press was thickest it made an open path; backwards and forwards like lightning flashes it darted, and no man could withstand it, or the strong hand that grasped it. And as the foemen gazed on Fionn dread filled their hearts, for round his head shone the red light of battle, and now and again a form like a fiery serpent reared and twisted about him; while the flames that ran from haft to point of his spear lengthened themselves out and fashioned a shape of fear, from which the Tuatha de Danann recoiled in terror.

So they fought through the long winter night, until a grey dawn lightened the eastern sky, when the Tuatha de Danann, finally repulsed, withdrew from the battle, mourning their heaps of slain. But only one of Midir's sons was killed, though all the other brothers were sorely wounded. As for the Fians, there was not one single inch of their bodies which had not its spear-thrust, and for days after Fionn could not lift his spear-arm, so stiff and sore it was from the work of that night. But