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