'Maidens find many such, O maiden.'
'There is no other like this.'
'What is his name?'
'I cannot tell,' she said, coming up to Cohoolin; then seeing the body, with one cry of 'Conla!' she fell over it.
'Conla! yes, it was Conla!' cried out Cohoolin. 'Conla! Conla! I slew thee half in anger, because thy mother hates me; and thou perhaps had loved me. I looked in vain for thy ring, and I see that thou hadst given it to one thou lovedst above thy father.'
His sorrow was horrible to see, and his cries drew many thither. His face wore the same look as in battle, but worse than his companions had ever seen. They looked on in silence, now and then stepping forward as if to lead him away, or beg him to spare himself, but stepping back again hastily from that ghastly face. He gripped his sword, and every moment they expected him to set upon them. At last Cathbad the Druid put him under a spell. By this spell Cohoolin saw the waves of the sea close by like a host of his enemies, and he rushed among them, striking greater blows than he had ever struck before. Night fell, and still he fought with the waves. Not until morning broke did he cease, because he was too tired to lift up his sword. He fell forward into the waters, and would have drowned had not those who watched him rushed in and carried him ashore.
