Laegaire, Son Of The King Of Connacht, Was Out One Day With The King His Father Near Loch Na-N Ean, The Lake Of Birds, And The Men Of Connacht With Them, And They Saw A Man Coming To Them Through The Mist. Long Golden-Yellow Hair He Had, And At His Belt A Gold-Hilted Sword, And In His Hand Two Five-Barbed Darts; A Gold-Rimmed Shield On His Back, A Five-Folded Crimson Cloak About His Shoulders, And It Is What He Said: The Most Beautiful Of Plains Is The Plain Of The Two Mists; It Is Not Far From This; The Men Of Its Army In Good Order Go Out Ahead Of Their Beautiful King; They March Among Blue Spears, White Troops Of Fighters With Curled Hair. They Scatter The Troops Of Their Enemies, They Destroy Every Country They Make An Attack On; They Are Beautiful In Battle, A Host With High Looks, Rushing, Avenging. It Is No Wonder They To Have Such Strength Every One Of Them Is The Son Of A King And A Queen; Manes Of Hair They Have Of The Colour Of Gold. Their Bodies Smooth And Comely; Their Eyes Blue And Far-Seeing; Their Teeth Bright Like Crystal Within Their Thin Red Lips. White Shields They Have In Their Hands, With Patterns On Them Of White Silver; Blue Shining Swords, Red Horns Set With Gold. They Are Good At Killing Men In Battle; Good At Song-Making, Good At Chess-Playing. The Most Beautiful Of Plains Is The Plain Of The Two Mists; It Is Not Far From This Place.