The Second Battle of Magh Tuireadh (Moytura)

Now Lugh and the Dagda and Ogma pursued the Fomorians, for they had carried off the Dagda’s harper, whose name was Uaitne. Then they reached the banqueting-house in which were Bres son of Elotha and Elotha son of Delbaeth. There hung the harp on the wall. That is the harp in which Dagda had bound the melodies so that they sounded not until by his call he summoned them forth; when he said this below:

Come Daurdabla!
Come Coir-cethar-chuir!
Come summer, Come winter!
Mouths of harps and bags and pipes!

Now that harp had two names, Daur-da-bla “Oak of two greens” and Coir-cethar-chuir “Four-angled music.”

Then the harp went forth from the wall, and killed nine men, and came to the Dagda. And he played for them the three things whereby harpers are distinguished, to wit, sleep-strain and smile-strain and wail-strain. He played wail-strain to them, so that their tearful women wept. He played smile-strain to them, so their women and children laughed. He played sleep-strain to them, and the company fell asleep. Through that sleep the three of them escaped unhurt from the Fomorians though these desired to slay them.

Then the Dagda brought with him the heifer which had been given to him for his labor. For when she called her calf all the cattle of Ireland which the Fomorians had taken as their tribute, grazed.

Now after the battle was won and corpses cleared away, the Morrigu, daughter of Ernmas, proceeded to proclaim that battle and the mighty victory which had taken place, to the royal heights of Ireland and to its faery hosts, and its chief waters, and its river mouths. And hence it is that Badb also describes high deeds. “Hast thou any tale?” said everyone to her then. And she replied:

Peace up to heaven
Heaven down to earth
Earth under heaven
Strength in every one, etc. …

Then moreover she was prophesying the end of the world, and foretelling every evil that would be therein, and every disease and every vengeance. Wherefore then she sang this lay below:

I shall not see a world that will be dear to me
Summer without flowers
Kine will be without milk,
Women without modesty,
Men without valor,
Captures without a king…
Woods without mast,
Sea without produce…
Wrong judgments of old men,
False precedents of lawyers,
Every man a betrayer,
Every boy a reaver
Son will enter his fathers bed,
Father will enter his son’s bed,
Every one will be his brother’s brother in law….
An evil time!
Son will deceive his father,
Daughter will deceive her mother.

Source: Cross, Tom Peete and Clark Harris Slover, Ancient Irish Tales, Figgis, Dublin, 1936.
Spelling and other grammatical corrections are mine.