and after listening to the lays of the King's minstrel, Brian rose and
sang:--

"'Tis little Peisear cares for spears,
Since armies, when his face they see,
All overcome with panic fears
Without a wound they turn and flee.

"The Yew is monarch of the wood,
No other tree disputes its claim.
The shining shaft in venom stewed
Flies fiercely forth to kill and maim."

"'Tis a very good poem," said the King, "but, O bard from Erinn, I do
not understand your reference to my spear."

"It is merely this," replied Brian, "that I would like your spear as a
reward for my poem."

Then the King stared at Brian, and his beard bristled with anger, and
he said, "Never was a greater reward paid for any poem than not to
adjudge you guilty of instant death for your request."

Then Brian flung at the king the fourth golden apple which he had
taken from the Garden of the Hesperides, and it dashed out his brains.
Immediately the brothers all drew sword and made for the courtyard.
Here they seized the magic spear, and with it and with their swords
they fought their way clear, not without many wounds, and escaped to
their boat. And thus ended the third quest of the Sons of Turenn.