After that came the turn of the stranger bards, and Brian asked his brethren if they had anything to recite.
"We have not," said they; "we know but one art--to take what we want by the strong hand if we may, and if we may not, to die fighting." "That is a difficult art too," said Brian; "let us see how we thrive with the poetry." So he rose up and recited this lay:-- "Mighty is thy fame, O King, Towering like a giant oak; For my song I ask no thing Save a pigskin for a cloak.
"When a neighbour with his friend Quarrels, they are ear to ear; Who on us their store shall spend Shall be richer than they were.
"Armies of the storming wind-- Raging seas, the sword's fell stroke-- Thou hast nothing to my mind Save thy pigskin for a cloak." "That is a very good poem," said the King, "but one word of its meaning I do not understand." "I will interpret it for you," said Brian:-- "Mighty is thy fame, O King, Towering like a giant oak." "That is to say, as the oak surpasses all the other trees of the forest, so do you surpass all the kings of the world in goodness, in nobleness, and in liberality.
"A pigskin for a cloak." "That is the skin of the pig of Tuish which I would fain receive as the reward for my lay." "When a neighbour with his friend Quarrels, they are ear to ear." "That is to signify that you and I shall be about each other's ears over the skin, unless you are willing to give it to me.

Such is the sense of my poem," said Brian, son of Turenn.
"I would praise your poem more," said the King, "if there were not so much about my pigskin in it.

Little sense have you, O man of poetry, to make that request of me, for not to all the poets, scholars, and lords of the world would I give that skin of my own free will.

But what I will do is this--I will give the full of that skin of red gold thrice over in reward for your poem." "Thanks be to you," said Brian, "for that.

I knew that I asked too much, but I knew also thou wouldst redeem the skin amply and generously.