Chapter 8
"OLD age again overtook me. Weariness stole into my limbs, and
anguish dozed into my mind. I went to my Ulster cave and dreamed my
dream, and I changed into a hawk.
"I left the ground. The sweet air was my kingdom, and my bright
eye stared on a hundred miles. I soared, I swooped; I hung,
motionless as a living stone, over the abyss; I lived in joy and
slept in peace, and had my fill of the sweetness of life.
"During that time Beothach, the son of Iarbonel the Prophet,
came to Ireland with his people, and there was a great battle
between his men and the children of Semion. Long I hung over that
combat, seeing every spear that hurtled, every stone that whizzed
from a sling, every sword that flashed up and down, and the endless
glittering of the shields. And at the end
