Legendary fictions of the Irish Celts

234 Fictions of the Irish Celts.
a tree, pinned him to the earth, and got his head in a
moment into its horrid mouth. While power was left
him to roar he roared, and the room was soon filled by
the knights. They found him on his back writhing and
crying out, and a large cat sitting at his head, and licking
his greasy chin and crommeal* (moustache). "Misfortune
be on you for a troublesome Conan," said Caeilte ;
" if you disturb us again you shall receive the discipline
of the sword-belts."
Alas ! Avhen all was quiet for a while, sucli shouts
shook the house as if the Doun Cuailgne and the Doim
Fiimbeanach f were employed at single combat. When
the champions entered they could see no outward cause
of torment ; but the unfortunate victim was lying on his
back, his hair fastened to the floor, and he twisting about
in agony. "What is the matter now, you unblest Son of
INIischief?" cried Fion. "Oh, have pity on me I" he
cried. " I am sufterin.g the pangs inflicted on womankind.
Chew your thumb, O son ot "Cumhail, and give
me relief." He did so, and beheld through walls and
doors the dwarf in a far-off cell, rocking himself and
singing a cronan. Doors and gates gave way before the
feet of the Fianna, and they were all soon surrounding
the sorcerer with their javelins at his throat. '' Release
our companion, O Danaan of evil, or taste the bitterness
of dissolution." He drew a vial from his breast-clothing,
and handed it to Fion, who placed it in Oisin's hand,
motioning him to go to the relief of Conan. The rest
remained to watch the Druid, till they heard from the
distant room a burst of laughter. Hastening back they
found Conan sitting painless, but silent and sad—the
upper part of his head resembling the moon at full, while
* The ancient Irish gentry let their hair grow as long as it would,
but carefully shaved the face and neck, with the exception of the
Tipper lip.
+ The two rival bulls in the Tain Bo Cnailgnc, the Cattle Raid
of Cooley (ia Louth), the queen of Celtic epics.