And Angus came to him again the next day, and he said: "Your work will
soon be done, and when you are given your wages, take nothing they may
offer you till the cattle of Ireland are brought before you, and choose
out a heifer then, black and black-maned, that I will tell you the signs
of."

So when the Dagda had brought his work to an end, and they asked him
what reward he wanted, he did as Angus had bidden him. And that seemed
folly to Bres; he thought the Dagda would have asked more than a heifer
of him.

There came a day at last when a poet came to look for hospitality at the
king's house, Corpre, son of Etain, poet of the Tuatha de Danaan. And it
is how he was treated, he was put in a little dark narrow house where
there was no fire, or furniture, or bed; and for a feast three small
cakes, and they dry, were brought to him on a little dish. When he rose
up on the morrow he was no way thankful, and as he was going across the
green, it is what he said: "Without food ready on a dish; without milk
enough for a calf to grow on; without shelter; without light in the
darkness of night; without enough to pay a story-teller; may that be the
prosperity of Bres."

And from that day there was no good luck with Bres, but it is going down
he was for ever after. And that was the first satire ever made in
Ireland.

Now as to Nuada: after his arm being struck off, he was in his sickness
for a while, and then Diancecht, the healer, made an arm of silver for
him, with movement in every finger of it, and put it on him. And from
that he was called Nuada Argat-lamh, of the Silver Hand, for ever after.