The monks bring him meagre rations, and MacConglinne composes a satire on them, whereupon he is seized, stripped naked and whipped.
The abbot, Manchín, proposes crucifying the unrepentant poet; MacConglinne complains that they have shown him no hospitality whatever and curses them as "curs, robbers and shit-hounds".
[5] The monks decide to defer crucifying him until the following day, but that night MacConglinne is visited by an angel of God, and is granted a vision of a land made entirely of food:The fort we reached was beautiful,With works of custards thick,Beyond the loch.New butter was the bridge in front,The rubble dyke was wheaten white,Bacon the palisade.Stately, pleasantly it sat,A compact house and strong.Then I went in:The door of it was dry meat,The threshold was bare bread,cheese-curds the sides.Smooth pillars of old cheese,And sappy bacon propsAlternate ranged;Fine beams of mellow cream,White rafters - real curds,Kept up the house.
Cathal is still the helpless victim of his gluttony, and MacConglinne is only able to get the king's attention by grinding his teeth so loudly that "there was no one in the neighbourhood [...] that did not hear the noise".
After MacConglinne has got the king to fast for two consecutive nights, he prepares a vast meal of roasted meats and has Cathal lashed to the walls of his palace.