Page:Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry - Meyer.djvu/34

 The white cup of my cup-bearer, a shining gem,
 * will glitter before thee;

My golden finger-ring, my bracelets, treasures without
 * a flaw, King Nia Nar had brought them
 * over the sea.

Cailte's brooch, a pin with luck, it was one of his
 * marvellous treasures:

Two heads of silver round a head of gold, a goodly
 * piece, though small.

My draught-board—no mean treasure!—is thine;
 * take it with thee.

Noble blood drips on its rim, it lies not far hence.

Many a body of the spear-armed host lies here and
 * there around its crimson woof;

A dense bush of the ruddy oak-wood conceals it
 * by the side of the grave.

As thou carefully searchest for it thou shouldst
 * not speak much:

Earth never covered anything so marvellous.

One half of its pieces are yellow gold, the other
 * are white bronze;

Its woof is of pearls; it is the wonder of smiths
 * how it was wrought.

The bag for its pieces,—'tis a marvel of a story—
 * its rim is embroidered with gold;

The master-smith has left a lock upon it which no
 * ignorant person can open.

A four-cornered casket,—it is but tiny—made of
 * coils of red gold;

One hundred ounces of white bronze have been put
 * into it firmly.