Magnus Barfod, in the year 1102, undertook the general conquest
of the kingdoms of Ireland; it is said that on the eve of his death
he received this greeting from Muirchertach, king in Dublin:
May gold and the storm fight along with you in your armies,
Tomorrow, in the fields of my kingdom, may you have a
May your kingly hands be terrible in weaving the sword stuff.
May those opposing your sword become meat for the red swan.
May your many gods glut you with glory, may they glut you
Victorious may you be in the dawn, king who tread on Ireland.
Of your many days may none shine bright as tomorrow.
Because that day will be the last. I swear it to you,
For before its light is blotted, I shall vanquish you and blot
you out, Magnus Barfod.
From H. Gering: Anhang zur Heimskringla (1893)
[From Dreamtigers, by Jorge Luis Borges, translated by Harold Morland]