On one occasion the poet came to the house of Bres seeking hospitality (that is, Coirpre son of Étain, the poet of the Túatha Dé). He entered a narrow, black, dark little house; and there was neither fire nor furniture nor bedding in it. Three small cakes were brought to him on a little dish—and they were dry. The next day he arose, and he was not thankful. As he went across the yard he said,
‘Bres's prosperity no longer exists,’ he said, and that was true. There was only blight on him from that hour; and that is the first satire that was made in Ireland.
- Without food quickly on a dish,
Without cow's milk on which a calf grows,
Without a man's habitation after darkness remains,
Without paying a company of storytellers—let that be Bres's condition.