{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_14749/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_14749","id":"gutenberg_14749","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14749","summary":null,"tags":["Bards and bardism","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Cormac Mac Airt, King of Ireland, active 227-260 -- Legends","Epic literature, Irish -- Translations into English","Finn MacCumhaill, active 3rd century -- Legends","Heroes -- Ireland -- Legends","Mythology, Celtic -- Ireland","Tales -- Ireland"],"text":"Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original lovely illustrations.\n      See 14749-h.htm or 14749-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/7/4/14749/14749-h/14749-h.htm)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/7/4/14749/14749-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE HIGH DEEDS OF FINN\n\nAND OTHER BARDIC ROMANCES OF ANCIENT IRELAND\n\nby\n\nT. W. ROLLESTON\n\nWith an Introduction by Stopford A. Brooke, M.A. LL.D.\n\nAnd with Sixteen Illustrations by Stephen Reid\n\nNew York\nThomas Y. Crowell & Company\nPublishers\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAR\nCRAOIBH CONNARTHA NA GAEDHILGE\nI NGLEANN FHAIDHLE BRONNAIM AN LEABHAR SEO:\nBEANNACHT AGUS BUAIDH\nLIBHSE GO DEO\n\n\n\n\n\nPreface\n\n\nThe romantic tales here retold for the English reader belong neither\nto the category of folk-lore nor of myth, although most of them\ncontain elements of both. They belong, like the tales of Cuchulain,\nwhich have been similarly presented by Miss Hull,[1] to the bardic\nliterature of ancient Ireland, a literature written with an artistic\npurpose by men who possessed in the highest degree the native culture\nof their land and time. The aim with which these men wrote is also\nthat which has been adopted by their present interpreter. I have not\ntried, in this volume, to offer to the scholar materials for the study\nof Celtic myth or folk-lore. My aim, however I may have fulfilled it,\nhas been artistic, not scientific. I have tried, while carefully\npreserving the main outline of each story, to treat it exactly as the\nancient bard treated his own material, or as Tennyson treated the\nstories of the MORT D'ARTHUR, that is to say, to present it as a fresh\nwork of poetic imagination. In some cases, as in the story of the\nChildren of Lir, or that of mac Datho's Boar, or the enchanting tale\nof King Iubdan and King Fergus, I have done little more than retell\nthe bardic legend with merely a little compression; but in others a\ncertain amount of reshaping has seemed desirable. The object in all\ncases has been the same, to bring out as clearly as possible for\nmodern readers the beauty and interest which are either manifest or\nimplicit in the Gaelic original.\n\n   [1] CUCHULAIN, THE HOUND OF ULSTER. By Eleanor Hull.\n\nFor stories which are only found in MSS. written in the older forms of\nthe language, I have been largely indebted to the translations\npublished by various scholars. Chief among these (so far as the\npresent work is concerned) must be named Mr Standish Hayes\nO'Grady--whose wonderful treasure-house of Gaelic legend, SILVA\nGADELICA, can never be mentioned by the student of these matters\nwithout an expression of admiration and of gratitude; Mr A.H. Leahy,\nauthor of HEROIC ROMANCES OF IRELAND; Dr Whitly Stokes, Professor Kuno\nMeyer, and M. d'Arbois de Jubainville, whose invaluable CYCLE\nMYTHOLOGIQUE IRLANDAIS has been much in my hands, both in the original\nand in the excellent English translation of Mr R.I. Best. Particulars\nof the source of each story will be found in the Notes on the Sources\nat the end of this volume. In the same place will also be found a\npronouncing-index of proper names. I have endeavoured, in the text, to\navoid or to modify any names which in their original form would baffle\nthe English reader, but there remain some on the pronunciation of\nwhich he may be glad to have a little light.\n\nThe two most conspicuous figures in ancient Irish legend are\nCuchulain, who lived--if he has any historical reality--in the reign\nof Conor mac Nessa immediately before the Christian era, and Finn son\nof Cumhal, who appears in literature as the captain of a kind of\nmilitary order devoted to the service of the High King of Ireland\nduring the third century A.D. Miss Hull's volume has been named after\nCuchulain, and it is appropriate that mine should bear the name of\nFinn, as it is mainly devoted to his period; though, as will be seen,\nseveral stories belonging to other cycles of legend, which did not\nfall within the scope of Miss Hull's work, have been included here.[2]\nAll the tales have been arranged roughly in chronological order. This\ndoes not mean according to the date of their composition, which in\nmost cases is quite indiscoverable, and still less, according to the\ndates of the MSS. in which they are contained. The order is given by\nthe position, in real or mythical history, of the events they deal\nwith. Of course it is not practicable to dovetail them into one\nanother with perfect accuracy. Where a story, like that of the\nChildren of Lir, extends over nearly a thousand years, beginning with\nthe mythical People of Dana and ending in the period of Christian\nmonasticism, one can only decide on its place by considering where it\nwill throw most light on those which come nearest to it. In this, as\nin the selection and treatment of the tales, there is of course room\nfor much difference of opinion. I can only ask the critic to believe\nthat nothing has been done in the framing of this collection of Gaelic\nromances without the consideration and care which the value of the\nmaterial demands and which the writer's love of it has inspired.\n\nT.W. ROLLESTON\n\n   [2] There is one important tale of the Finn cycle, the _Pursuit\n   of Dermot and Grania_, which I have not included. I have\n   omitted it, partly because it presents the character of Finn in\n   a light inconsistent with what is said of him elsewhere, and\n   partly because it has in it a certain sinister and depressing\n   element which renders it unsuitable for a collection intended\n   largely for the young.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n   INTRODUCTION\n\n      COIS NA TEINEADH\n\n\n   BARDIC ROMANCES\n\n         I. THE STORY OF THE CHILDREN OF LIR\n\n        II. THE QUEST OF THE SONS OF TURENN\n\n       III. THE SECRET OF LABRA\n\n        IV. KING IUBDAN AND KING FERGUS\n\n         V. THE CARVING OF MAC DATHO'S BOAR\n\n        VI. THE VENGEANCE OF MESGEDRA\n\n       VII. THE STORY OF ETAIN AND MIDIR\n\n      VIII. HOW ETHNE QUITTED FAIRYLAND\n\n\n   THE HIGH DEEDS OF FINN\n\n        IX. THE BOYHOOD OF FINN MAC CUMHAL\n\n         X. THE COMING OF FINN\n\n        XI. FINN'S CHIEF MEN\n\n       XII. THE TALE OF VIVIONN THE GIANTESS\n\n      XIII. THE CHASE OF THE GILLA DACAR\n\n       XIV. THE BIRTH OF OIS\u00cdN\n\n        XV. OIS\u00cdN IN THE LAND OF YOUTH\n\n\n   THE HISTORY OF KING CORMAC\n\n       XVI. 1. THE BIRTH OF CORMAC\n\n            2. THE JUDGMENT OF CORMAC\n\n            3. THE MARRIAGE OF KING CORMAC\n\n            4. THE INSTRUCTIONS OF THE KING\n\n            5. CORMAC SETS UP THE FIRST MILL IN ERINN\n\n            6. A PLEASANT STORY OF CORMAC'S BREHON\n\n            7. THE JUDGMENT CONCERNING CORMAC'S SWORD\n\n            8. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF CORMAC\n\n            9. DESCRIPTION OF CORMAC\n\n           10. DEATH AND BURIAL OF CORMAC\n\n\n   NOTES ON THE SOURCES\n\n   PRONOUNCING INDEX\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n   \"FINN HEARD FAR OFF THE FIRST NOTES OF THE FAIRY HARP\" (Frontispiece)\n\n   \"THERE SAT THE THREE MAIDENS WITH THE QUEEN\"\n\n   \"THEY MADE AN ENCAMPMENT AND THE SWANS SANG TO THEM\"\n\n   \"BEAR US SWIFTLY, BOAT OF MANANAN, TO THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES\"\n\n   \"THERE DWELT THE RED-HAIRED OCEAN-NYMPHS\"\n\n   \"THEY ALL TROOPED OUT, LORDS AND LADIES, TO VIEW THE WEE MAN\"\n\n   \"FERGUS GOES DOWN INTO THE LAKE\"\n\n   \"A MIGHTY SHOUT OF EXULTATION AROSE FROM THE ULSTERMEN\"\n\n   \"THEY ROSE UP IN THE AIR\"\n\n   \"SHE HEARD HER OWN NAME CALLED AGAIN AND AGAIN\"\n\n   \"AND THAT NIGHT THERE WAS FEASTING AND JOY IN THE LONELY HUT\"\n\n   \"THEY RAN HIM BY HILL AND PLAIN\"\n\n   \"DERMOT TOOK THE HORN AND WOULD HAVE FILLED IT\"\n\n   \"'FOLLOW ME NOW TO THE HILL OF ALLEN'\"\n\n   \"THEY RODE UP TO A STATELY PALACE\"\n\n   \"THE WHITE STEED HAD VANISHED FROM THEIR EYES LIKE A WREATH OF MIST\"\n\n\n\n\nIntroduction\n\n\nMany years have passed by since, delivering the Inaugural Lecture of\nthe Irish Literary Society in London, I advocated as one of its chief\naims the recasting into modern form and in literary English of the old\nIrish legends, preserving the atmosphere of the original tales as much\nas possible, but clearing them from repetitions, redundant\nexpressions, idioms interesting in Irish but repellent in English,\nand, above all, from absurdities, such as the sensational fancy of the\nlater editors and bards added to the simplicities of the original\ntales.\n\nLong before I spoke of this, it had been done by P.W. Joyce in his OLD\nCELTIC ROMANCES, and by Standish O'Grady for the whole story of\nCuchulain, but in this case with so large an imitation of the Homeric\nmanner that the Celtic spirit of the story was in danger of being\nlost. This was the fault I had to find with that inspiring book,[3]\nbut it was a fault which had its own attraction.\n\n   [3] I gave this book--_The History of Ireland_ (HEROIC\n   PERIOD)--to Burne-Jones in order to interest him in Irish myth\n   and legend. \"I'll try and read it,\" he said. A week afterwards\n   he came and said--\"It is a new world of thought and pleasure\n   you have opened to me. I knew nothing of this, and life is\n   quite enlarged. But now, I want to see all the originals. Where\n   can I get them?\"\n\nI have only spoken of prose writing above. But in poetry (and in\nPoetry well fitted to the tales), this work had already been done\nnobly, and with a fine Celtic splendour of feeling and expression, by\nSir Samuel Ferguson.\n\nSince then, a number of writers have translated into literary English\na host of the Irish tales, and have done this with a just reverence\nfor their originals. Being, in nearly every case, Irish themselves,\nthey have tried, with varying success, to make their readers realize\nthe wild scenery of Ireland, her vital union with the sea and the\ngreat ocean to the West, those changing dramatic skies, that mystic\nweather, the wizard woods and streams which form the constant\nbackground of these stories; nor have they failed to allure their\nlisteners to breathe the spiritual air of Ireland, to feel its\npathetic, heroic, imaginative thrill.\n\nThey have largely succeeded in their effort. The Irish bardic tales\nhave now become a part of English literature and belong not only to\ngrown up persons interested in early poetry, in mythology and\nfolk-customs, but to the children of Ireland and England. Our new\nimaginative stories are now told in nurseries, listened to at evening\nwhen the children assemble in the fire-light to hear tales from their\nparents, and eagerly read by boys at school. A fresh world of\nstory-telling has been opened to the imagination of the young.\n\nThis could not have been done in the right way if it had not been for\nthe previous work of Celtic scholars in Ireland, and particularly on\nthe Continent, in France and Germany. Having mastered medieval Irish,\nthey have translated with careful accuracy many of the ancient tales,\nomitting and changing nothing; they have edited them critically,\ncollating and comparing them with one another, and with other forms of\nthe same stories. We have now in English, French, and German the exact\nrepresentation of the originals with exhaustive commentaries.\n\nWhen this necessary work was finished--and it was absolutely\nnecessary--it had two important results on all work of the kind Mr\nRolleston has performed in this book--on the imaginative recasting and\nmodernizing of the ancient tales. First, it made it lawful and easy\nfor the modern artist--in sculpture, painting, poetry, or imaginative\nprose--to use the stories as he pleased in order to give pleasure to\nthe modern world. It made it lawful because he could reply to those\nwho objected that what he produced was not the real thing--\"The real\nthing exists; you will find it, when you wish to see it, accurately\nand closely translated by critical and competent scholars. I refer you\nto the originals in the notes to this book. I have found the materials\nof my stories in these originals; and it is quite lawful for me, now\nthat they have been reverently preserved, to use them as I please for\nthe purpose of giving pleasure to the modern world--to make out of\nthem fresh imaginative work, as the medieval writers did out of the\noriginal stories of Arthur and his men.\" This is the defence any\nre-caster of the ancient tales might make of the _lawfulness_ of his\nwork, and it is a just defence; having, above all, this use--that it\nleaves the imagination of the modern artist free, yet within\nrecognized and ruling limits, to play in and around his subject.\n\nOne of those limits is the preservation, in any remodelling of the\ntales, of the Celtic atmosphere. To tell the Irish stories in the\nmanner of Homer or Apuleius, in the manner of the Norse sagas, or in\nthe manner of Malory, would be to lose their very nature, their soul,\ntheir nationality. We should no longer understand the men and women\nwho fought and loved in Ireland, and whose characters were moulded by\nIrish surroundings, customs, thoughts, and passions. We should not see\nor feel the landscape of Ireland or its skies, the streams, the woods,\nthe animals and birds, the mountain solitudes, as we feel and see\nthem in the original tales. We should not hear, as we hear in their\nfirst form, the stormy seas between Scotland and Antrim, or the great\nwaves which roar on the western isles, and beat on cliffs which still\nbelong to another world than ours. The genius of Ireland would desert\nour work.\n\nAnd it would be a vast pity to lose the Irish atmosphere in the\ntelling of the Irish tales, because it is unique; not only distinct\nfrom that of the stories of other races, but from that of the other\nbranches of the Celtic race. It differs from the atmosphere of the\nstories of Wales, of Brittany, of the Highlands and islands of\nScotland. It is more purely Celtic, less mixed than any of them. A\nhundred touches in feeling, in ways of thought, in sensitiveness to\nbeauty, in war and voyaging, and in ideals of life, separate it from\nthat of the other Celtic races.\n\nIt is owing to the careful, accurate, and critical work of continental\nand Irish scholars on the manuscript materials of Irish Law, History,\nBardic Tales, and Poetry; on customs, dress, furniture, architecture,\nornament, on hunting and sailing; on the manners of men and women in\nwar and peace, that the modern re-teller of the Irish tales is enabled\nto conserve the Irish atmosphere. And this conservation of the special\nIrish atmosphere is the second result which the work of the critical\nscholars has established. If the re-writer of the tales does not use\nthe immense materials made ready to his hand for illustration,\nexpansion, ornament and description in such a way that Ireland, and\nonly Ireland, lives in his work from line to line, he is greatly to be\nblamed.\n\nMr Rolleston has fulfilled these conditions with the skill and the\nfeeling of an artist. He has clung closely to his originals with an\naffectionate regard for their ancientry, their ardour and their\ndistinction, and yet has, within this limit, used and modified them\nwith a pleasant freedom. His love of Ireland has instilled into his\nrepresentation of these tales a passion akin to that which gave them\nbirth. We feel, as we read, how deep his sympathy has been with their\nintensity, their love of wild nature, their desire for beauty, their\ninterest in humanity and in character, their savagery and their\ntenderness, their fairy magic and strange imaginations that suddenly\nsurprise and charm. Whenever anything lovely emerges in the tale, he\ndoes not draw attention to it, but touches it with so artistic a\npencil that its loveliness is enhanced. And he has put into English\nverse the Irish poems scattered through the tales with the skill and\nthe temper of a poet. I hope his book will win what it deserves--the\nglad appreciation of old and young in England, and the gratitude of\nIreland.\n\nThe stories told in this book belong to three distinct cycles of Irish\nstory-telling. The first are mythological, and are concerned with the\nearly races that are fabled to have dwelt and fought in Ireland Among\nthese the Tuatha De Danaan were the final conquerors, and held the\nland for two hundred years They were, it is supposed, of the Celtic\nstock, but they were not the ancestors of the present Irish. These\nwere the Milesians (Irish, Scots or Gaelic who, conquering the Tuatha\nDe Danaan, ruled Ireland till they were overcome by the English.) The\nstories which have to do with the Tuatha De Danaan are mythical and of\na great antiquity concerning men and women, the wisest and the best of\nwhom became gods, and who appear as divine beings in the cycle of\ntales which follow after them They were always at war with a fierce\nand savage people called Fomorians, whom they finally defeated and the\nstrife between them may mythically represent the ancient war between\nthe good and evil principles in the world.\n\nIn the next cycle we draw nearer to history, and are in the world not\nof myth but of legend. It is possible that some true history may be\nhidden underneath its sagas, that some of its personages may be\nhistorical, but we cannot tell. The events are supposed to occur about\nthe time of the birth of Christ, and seventeen hundred years after\nthose of the mythical period. This is the cycle which collects its\nwars and sorrows and splendours around the dominating figure of\nCuchulain, and is called the Heroic or the Red Branch or the Ultonian\ncycle. Several sagas tell of the birth, the life, and the death of\nCuchulain, and among them is the longest and the most important--the\nT\u00e1in--the _Cattle Raid of Cooley_.\n\nOthers are concerned with the great King Conor mac Nessa, and the most\nknown and beautiful of these is the sorrowful tale of Deirdr\u00e9. There\nare many others of the various heroes and noble women who belonged to\nthe courts of Conor and of his enemy Queen Maev of Connaght. The\n_Carving of mac Datho's Boar_, the story of _Etain and Midir_, and the\n_Vengeance of Mesgedra_, contained in this book belong to these\nmiscellaneous tales unconnected with the main saga of Cuchulain.\n\nThe second cycle is linked to the first, not by history or race, but\nby the fact that the great personages in the first have now become the\ngods who intervene in the affairs of the wars and heroes of the\nsecond. They take part in them as the gods do in the Iliad and the\nOdyssey. Lugh, the Long-Handed, the great Counsellor of the Tuatha De\nDanaan, is now a god, and is the real father of Cuchulain, heals him\nof his wounds in the Battle of the Ford, warns him of his coming\ndeath, and receives him into the immortal land. The Morrigan, who\ndescends from the first cycle, is now the goddess of war, and is at\nfirst the enemy and afterwards the lover of Cuchulain. Angus, The\nDagda, Mananan the sea-god, enter not only into the sagas of the\nsecond cycle, but into those of the third, of the cycle of Finn. And\nall along to the very end of the stories, and down indeed to the\npresent day, the Tuatha De Danaan appear in various forms, slowly\nlessening in dignity and power, until they end in the fairy folk in\nwhom the Irish peasants still believe. They are alive and still\npowerful in the third--the Fenian--cycle of stories, some of which are\ncontained and adorned in this book. In their continued presence is the\nonly connexion which exists between the three cycles. No personages of\nthe first save these of the gods appear in the Heroic cycle, none of\nthe Heroic cycle appears in the Fenian cycle. Seventeen hundred years,\naccording to Irish annalists, separate the first from the second, more\nthan two hundred years separate the second from the beginning of the\nthird.\n\nThe third cycle is called Fenian because its legends tell, for the\nmost part, of the great deeds of the F\u00e9ni or Fianna, who were the\nmilitia employed by the High King to support his supremacy, to keep\nIreland in order, to defend the country from foreign invasion. They\nwere, it seems, finally organized by Cormac mac Art, 227 A.D.(?) the\ngrandson of Conn the Hundred Fighter. But they had loosely existed\nbefore in the time of Conn and his son Art, and like all mercenary\nbodies of this kind were sometimes at war with the kings who employed\nthem. Finally, at the battle of Gowra, they and their power were quite\ndestroyed. Long before this destruction, they were led in the reign\nof Cormac by Finn the son of Cumhal, and it is around Finn and Ois\u00edn\nthe son of Finn, that most of the romances of the Fenian cycle are\ngathered. Others which tell of the battles and deeds of Conn and Art\nand Cormac and Cairbre of the Liffey, Cormac's son, are more or less\nlinked on to the Fenians. On the whole, Finn and his warriors, each of\na distinct character, warlike skill and renown, are the main\npersonages of the cycle, and though Finn is not the greatest warrior,\nhe is their head and master because he is the wisest; and this\nmasterdom by knowledge is for the first time an element in Irish\nstories.\n\nIf the tales of the first cycle are mythological and of the second\nheroic, these are romantic. The gods have lost their dreadful, even\ntheir savage character, and have become the Fairies, full often of\ngentleness, grace, and humour. The mysterious dwelling places of the\ngods in the sea, in unknown lands, in the wandering air, are now in\npalaces under the green hills of Ireland, or by the banks of swift\nclear rivers, like the palace of Angus near the Boyne, or across the\nseas in Tir-na-n-\u00d3g, the land of immortal youth, whither Niam brings\nOis\u00edn to live with her in love, as Morgan le Fay brought Ogier the\nDane to her fairyland. The land of the Immortals in the heroic cycle,\nto which, in the story of _Etain and Midir_ in this book, Midir brings\nback Etain after she has sojourned for a time on earth, is quite\ndifferent in conception from the Land of Youth over the far seas where\ndelightfulness of life and love is perfect. This, in its conception of\nan unknown world where is immortal youth, where stormless skies, happy\nhunting, strange adventure, gentle manners dwell, where love is free\nand time is unmarked, is pure romance. So are the adventures of Finn\nagainst enchanters, as in the story of the _Birth of Ois\u00edn_, of\n_Dermot in the Country under the Seas_, in the story of the _Pursuit\nof the Gilla Dacar_, of the wild love-tale of _Dermot and Grania_,\nflying for many years over all Ireland from the wrath of Finn, and of\na host of other tales of enchantments and battle, and love, and\nhunting, and feasts, and discoveries, and journeys, invasions,\ncourtships, and solemn mournings. No doubt the romantic atmosphere has\nbeen deepened in these tales by additions made to them by successive\ngenerations of bardic singers and storytellers, but for all that the\noriginal elements in the stories are romantic as they are not in the\nprevious cycles.\n\nAgain, these Fenian tales are more popular than the others. Douglas\nHyde has dwelt on this distinction. \"For 1200 years at least, they\nhave been,\" he says, \"intimately bound up with the thought and\nfeelings of the whole Gaelic race in Ireland and Scotland.\" Even at\nthe present day new forms are given to the tales in the cottage homes\nof Ireland. And it is no wonder. The mysterious giant forms of the\nmythological period, removed by divinity from the sympathy of men; the\nvast heroic figures of Cuchulain and his fellows and foes, their close\nrelation to supernatural beings and their doings, are far apart from\nthe more natural humanity of Cormac and Finn, of Dermot and Goll, of\nOis\u00edn and Oscar, of Keelta, and last of Conan, the coward, boaster and\nvenomous tongue, whom all the Fenians mocked and yet endured. They are\na very human band of fighting men, and though many of them, like Ois\u00edn\nand Finn and Dermot, have adventures in fairyland, they preserve in\nthese their ordinary human nature. The Connacht peasant has no\ndifficulty in following Finn into the cave of Slieve Cullinn, where\nthe witch turned him into a withered old man, for the village where he\nlives has traditions of the same kind; the love affairs of Finn, of\nDermot and Grania, and of many others, are quite in harmony with a\nhundred stories, and with the temper, of Irish lovers. A closer, a\nsimpler humanity than that of the other cycles pervades the Fenian\ncycle, a greater chivalry, a greater courtesy, and a greater\ntenderness. We have left the primeval savagery behind, the\nmultitudinous slaughtering, the crude passions of the earlier men and\nwomen; we are nearer to civilization, nearer to the common temper and\ncharacter of the Irish people. No one can doubt this who will compare\nthe _Vengeance of Mesgedra_ with the _Chase of the Gilla Dacar_.\n\nThe elaborate courtesy with which Finn and his chief warriors receive\nall comers, as in the story of Vivionn the giantess, is quite new,\neven medieval in its chivalry; so is the elaborate code of honour; so\nalso is, on the whole, the treatment of women and their relation to\nmen. How far this resemblance to medieval romance has been intruded\ninto the stories--(there are some in which there is not a trace of\nit)--by the after editors and re-editors of the tales, I cannot tell,\nbut however that may be, their presence in the Fenian cycle is plain;\nand this brings the stories into a kindlier and more pleasurable\natmosphere for modern readers than that which broods in thunderous\nskies and fierce light over dreadful passions and battles thick and\nbloody in the previous cycles. We are in a gentler world.\n\nAnother more modern romantic element in the Fenian legends is the\ndelight in hunting, and that more affectionate relation of men to\nanimals which always marks an advance in civilization. Hunting, as in\nmedieval romance, is one of the chief pleasures of the Fenians. Six\nmonths of the year they passed in the open, getting to know every part\nof the country they had to defend, and hunting through the great woods\nand over the hills for their daily food and their daily delight. The\nstory of the _Chase of the Gilla Dacar_ tells, at its beginning, of a\ngreat hunting and of Finn's men listening with joy to the cries of the\nhunters and the loud chiding of the dogs; and many tales celebrate the\nfollowing of the stag and the wild boar from early dawn to the\nevening. Then Finn's two great hounds, Bran and Sceolaun, are loved by\nFinn and his men as if they were dear friends; and they, when their\nmaster is in danger or under enchantment wail like human beings for\nhis loss or pain. It is true Cuchulain's horses weep tears of blood\nwhen he goes forth to his last battle, foreknowing his death; but they\nare immortal steeds and have divine knowledge of fate. The dogs of\nFinn are only dogs, and the relation between him and them is a natural\nrelation, quite unlike the relation between Cuchulain and the horses\nwhich draw his chariot. Yet Finn's dogs are not quite as other dogs.\nThey have something of a human soul in them. They know that in the\nmilk-white fawn they pursue there is an enchanted maiden, and they\ndefend her from the other hounds till Finn arrives. And it is told of\nthem that sometimes, when the moon is high, they rise from their\ngraves and meet and hunt together, and speak of ancient days. The\nsupernatural has lessened since the heroic cycle. But it is still\nthere in the Fenian.\n\nAgain, the Fenian cycle of tales is more influenced by Christianity\nthan the others are. The mythological cycle is not only fully pagan,\nit is primeval. It has the vastness, the savagery, the relentlessness\nof nature-myths, and what beauty there is in it is akin to terror.\nGentleness is unknown. There is only one exception to this, so far as\nI know, and that is in the story of _The Children of Lir_. It is\nplain, however, that the Christian ending of that sorrowful story is a\nlater addition to it. It is remarkably well done, and most tenderly. I\nbelieve that the artist who did it imported into the rest of the tale\nthe exquisite tenderness which fills it, and yet with so much\nreverence for his original that he did not make the body of the story\nChristian. He kept the definite Christian element to the very end, but\nhe filled the whole with its tender atmosphere.\n\nNo Christianity and very little gentleness intrude into the heroic\ncycle. The story of Christ once touches it, but he who put it in did\nnot lose the pagan atmosphere, or the wild fierceness of the manners\nof the time. How it was done may be read in this book at the end of\nthe story of the _Vengeance of Mesgedra_. Very late in the redaction\nof these stories a Christian tag was also added to the tale of the\ndeath of Cuchulain, but it was very badly done.\n\nWhen we come to the Fenian cycle there is a well-defined borderland\nbetween them and Christianity. The bulk of the stories is plainly\npagan; their originals were frankly so. But the temper of their\ncomposers is more civilized than that of those who conceived the tales\nof the previous cycles; the manners, as I have already said, of their\npersonages are gentler, more chivalrous; and their atmosphere is so\nmuch nearer to that of Christianity, that the new Christian elements\nwould find themselves more at home in them than in the terrible\nvengeance of Lugh, the savage brutality of Conor to Deirdr\u00e9, or the\nraging slaughterings of Cuchulain. So much was this the case that a\nstory was skilfully invented which linked in imagination the Fenian\ncycle to a Christianized Ireland. This story--_Ois\u00edn in the Land of\nYouth_--is contained in this book. Ois\u00edn, or Ossian, the son of Finn,\nin an enchanted story, lives for 300 years, always young, with his\nlove in Tir-na-n-\u00d3g, and finds on his return, when he becomes a\nwithered old man, St Patrick and Christianity in Ireland. He tells to\nPatrick many tales of the Fenian wars and loves and glories, and in\nthe course of them paganism and Christianity are contrasted and\nintermingled. A certain sympathy with the pagan ideas of honour and\ncourage and love enters into the talk of Patrick and the monks, and\nsoftens their pious austerity. On the other hand, the Fenian legends\nare gentled and influenced by the Christian elements, in spite of the\nscorn with which Ois\u00edn treats the rigid condemnation of his companions\nand of Finn to the Christian hell, and the ascetic and unwarlike life\nof the monks.[4] There was evidently in the Fenian cycle of\nstory-telling a transition period in which the bards ran Christianity\nand paganism in and out of one another, and mingled the atmosphere of\nboth, and to that period the last editing of the story of _Lir and his\nChildren_ may be referred. A lovely story in this book, put into fine\nform by Mr Rolleston, is as it were an image of this transition\ntime--the story or _How Ethne quitted Fairyland_. It takes us back to\nthe most ancient cycle, for it tells of the great gods Angus and\nMananan, and then of how they became, after their conquest by the race\nwho live in the second cycle, the invisible dwellers in a Fairy\ncountry of their own during the Fenian period, and, afterwards, when\nPatrick and the monks had overcome paganism. Thus it mingles together\nelements from all the periods. The mention of the great caldron and\nthe swine which always renew their food is purely mythological. The\ncows which come from the Holy Land are Christian. Ethne herself is\nborn in the house of a pagan god who has become a Fairy King, but\nloses her fairy nature and becomes human; and the reason given for\nthis is an interesting piece of psychology which would never have\noccurred to a pagan world. She herself is a transition maiden, and,\nsuddenly finding herself outside the fairy world and lost, happens on\na monastery and dies on the breast of St Patrick. But she dies because\nof the wild wailing for her loss of the fairy-host, whom she can hear\nbut cannot see, calling to her out of the darkened sky to come back to\nher home. And in her sorrow and the battle in her between the love of\nChrist and of Faerie, she dies. That is a symbol, not intended as such\nby its conceiver, but all the more significant, of the transition\ntime. Short as it is, few tales, perhaps, are more deeply charged with\nspiritual meaning.\n\n   [4] I speak here of the better known of the two versions of\n   this encounter of the pagan with the Christian spirit. There\n   are others in which the reconciliation is carried still\n   further. One example is to be found in the _Colloquy of the\n   Ancients_ (SILVA GADELICA). Here Finn and his companions are\n   explicitly pronounced to be saved by their natural virtues, and\n   the relations of the Church and the Fenian warriors are most\n   friendly.\n\nIndependent of these three cycles, but often touching them here and\nthere, and borrowing from them, there are a number of miscellaneous\ntales which range from the earliest times till the coming of the\nDanes. The most celebrated of these are the _Storming of the Hostel_\nwith the death of Conary the High King of Ireland, and the story of\nthe Boru tribute. Two examples of these miscellaneous tales of a high\nantiquity are contained in this book--_King Iubdan and King Fergus_\nand _Etain and Midir_. Both of them have great charm and\ndelightfulness.\n\nFinally, the manner in which these tales grew into form must be\nremembered when we read them. At first, they were not written down,\nbut recited in hall and with a harp's accompaniment by the various\nbardic story-tellers who were attached to the court of the chieftain,\nor wandered singing and reciting from court to court. Each bard, if he\nwas a creator, filled up the original framework of the tale with\nornaments of his own, or added new events or personages to the tale,\nor mixed it up with other related tales, or made new tales altogether\nattached to the main personages of the original tale--episodes in\ntheir lives into which the bardic fancy wandered. If these new forms\nof the tales or episodes were imaginatively true to the characters\nround which they were conceived and to the atmosphere of the time,\nthey were taken up by other bards and became often separate tales, or\nif a great number attached themselves to one hero, they finally formed\nthemselves into one heroic story, such as that which is gathered round\nCuchulain, which, as it stands, is only narrative, but might in time\nhave become epical. Indeed, the T\u00e1in approaches, though at some\ndistance, an epic. In this way that mingling of elements out of the\nthree cycles into a single Saga took place.\n\nThen when Christianity came, the Irish who always, Christians or not,\nloved their race and its stories, would not let them go. They took\nthem and suffused them with a Christian tenderness, even a Christian\nforgiveness. Or they inserted Christian endings, while they left the\nrest of the stories as pagan as before. Later on, while the stories\nwere still learned by the bards and recited, they were written down,\nand somewhat spoiled by a luxurious use of ornamental adjectives, and\nby the weak, roving and uninventive fancy of men and monks aspiring to\nliterature but incapable of reaching it.\n\nHowever, in spite of all this intermingling and of the different forms\nof the same story, it is possible for an intelligent and sensitive\ncriticism, well informed in comparative mythology and folklore, to\nisolate what is very old in these tales from that which is less old,\nand that in turn from that which is still less old, and that from what\nis partly historical, medieval or modern. This has been done, with\nendless controversy, by those excellent German, French, and Irish\nscholars who have, with a thirsty pleasure, recreated the ancient\nliterature of Ireland, and given her once more a literary name among\nthe nations--a name which, having risen again, will not lose but\nincrease its brightness.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAs to the stories themselves, they have certain well-marked\ncharacteristics, and in dwelling on these, I shall chiefly refer, for\nillustration, to the stories in this book. Some of these\ncharacteristic elements belong to almost all mythological tales, and\narise from human imagination, in separated lands, working in the same\nor in a similar way on the doings of Nature, and impersonating them.\nThe form, however, in which these original ideas are cast is, in each\npeople, modified and varied by the animal life, the climate, the\nconfiguration of the country, the nearness of mountain ranges and of\nthe sea, the existence of wide forests or vast plains, of swift rivers\nand great inland waters.\n\nThe earliest tales of Ireland are crowded with the sea that wrapt the\nisland in its arms; and on the west and north the sea was the mighty\nand mysterious Ocean, in whose far infinities lay for the Irish the\nland of Immortal Youth. Between its shining shores and Ireland,\nstrange islands--dwelt in by dreadful or by fair and gracious\ncreatures, whose wonders Maeldun and Brendan visited--lay like jewels\non the green and sapphire waters. Out of this vast ocean emerged also\ntheir fiercest enemies. Thither, beyond these islands into the\nUnknown, over the waves on a fairy steed, went Ois\u00edn with Niam;\nthither, in after years, sailed St Brendan, till it seemed he touched\nAmerica. In the ocean depths were fair cities and well-grassed lands\nand cattle, which voyagers saw through water thin and clear. There,\ntoo, Brian, one of the sons of Turenn, descended in his water-dress\nand his crystal helmet, and found high-bosomed maidens weaving in a\nshining hall. Into the land beneath the wave, Mananan, the proud god\nof the sea brought Dermot and Finn and the Fianna to help him in his\nwars, as is told in the story of the _Gilla Dacar_. On these western\nseas, near the land, Lir's daughters, singing and floating, passed\nthree hundred years. On other seas, in the storm and in the freezing\nsleet that trouble the dark waves of Moyle, between Antrim and the\nScottish isles, they spent another three centuries. Half the story of\nthe Sons of Usnach has to do with the crossing of seas and with the\ncoast. Even Cuchulain, who is a land hero, in one of the versions of\nhis death, dies fighting the sea-waves. The sound, the restlessness,\nthe calm, the savour and the infinite of the sea, live in a host of\nthese stories; and to cap all, the sea itself and Mananan its god\nsympathise with the fates of Erin. When great trouble threatens\nIreland, or one of her heroes is near death, there are three huge\nwaves which, at three different points, rise, roaring, out of the\nocean, and roll, flooding every creek and bay and cave and river round\nthe whole coast with tidings of sorrow and doom. Later on, in the\nFenian tales, the sea is not so prominent. Finn and his clan are more\nconcerned with the land. Their work, their hunting and adventures\ncarry them over the mountains and plains, through the forests, and by\nthe lakes and rivers. In the stories there is scarcely any part of\nIreland which is not linked, almost geographically, with its scenery.\nEven the ancient gods have retired from the coast to live in the\npleasant green hills or by the wooded shores of the great lakes or in\nhearing of the soft murmur of the rivers. This business of the sea,\nthis varied aspect of the land, crept into the imagination of the\nIrish, and were used by them to embroider and adorn their poems and\ntales. They do not care as much for the doings of the sky. There does\nnot seem to be any supreme god of the heaven in their mythology.\nNeither the sun nor the moon are specially worshipped. There are\nsun-heroes like Lugh, but no isolated sun-god. The great beauty of the\ncloud-tragedies of storm, the gorgeous sunrises and sunsets, so\ndramatic in Ireland, or the magnificence of the starry heavens, are\nscarcely celebrated. But the Irish folk have heard the sound of the\nwind in the tree-tops and marked its cold swiftness over the moor, and\nwatched with fear or love the mists of ocean and the bewilderment of\nthe storm-driven snow and the sweet falling of the dew. These are\nfully celebrated.\n\nThese great and small aspects of Nature are not only celebrated, they\nare loved. One cannot read the stories in this book without feeling\nthat the people who conceived and made them observed Nature and her\nways with a careful affection, which seems to be more developed in the\nCeltic folk than elsewhere in modern Europe. There is nothing which\nresembles it in Teutonic story-telling. In the story of _The Children\nof Lir_, though there is no set description of scenery, we feel the\nspirit of the landscape by the lake where Lir listened for three\nhundred years to the sweet songs of his children. And, as we read of\ntheir future fate, we are filled with the solitude and mystery, the\nruthlessness and beauty of the ocean. Even its gentleness on quiet\ndays enters from the tale into our imagination. Then, too, the\nmountain-glory and the mountain-gloom are again and again\nimaginatively described and loved. The windings and recesses, the\ndarkness and brightness of the woods and the glades therein, enchant\nthe Fenians even when they are in mortal danger. And the waters of the\ngreat lakes, the deep pools of the rivers, the rippling shallows, the\ngreen banks, the brown rushing of the torrents, are all alive in the\nprose and song of Ireland. How deep was the Irish love of these\ndelightful things is plain from their belief that \"the place of the\nrevealing of poetry was always by the margin of water.\" And the Salmon\nof Knowledge, the eating of which gave Finn his pre-eminence, swam in\na green pool, still and deep, over which hung a rowan tree that shed\nits red berries on the stream. Lovely were the places whence Art and\nKnowledge came.\n\nThen, as to all good landscape lovers, the beasts, birds, and insects\nof Nature were dear to these ancient people. One of the things Finn\nmost cared for was not only his hounds, but the \"blackbird singing on\nLetterlee\"; and his song, on page 114, in the praise of May, tells us\nhow keen was his observant eye for animal life and how much it\ndelighted him. The same minute realisation of natural objects is\nillustrated in this book when King Iubdan explains to the servant the\ndifferent characteristics of the trees of the forest, and the mystic\nelements that abide in them. It was a habit, even of Teutonic poets,\nto tell of the various trees and their uses in verse, and Spenser and\nDrayton have both done it in later times. But few of them have added,\nas the Irish story does, a spiritual element to their description, and\nmade us think of malign or beneficent elements attached to them. The\nwoodbine, and this is a strange fancy, is the king of the woods. The\nrowan is the tree of the magicians, and its berries are for poets. The\nbramble is inimical to man, the alder is full of witchcraft, and the\nelder is the wood of the horses of the fairies. Into every tree a\nspiritual power is infused; and the good lords of the forest are loved\nof men and birds and bees.\n\nThus the Irish love of nature led them to spiritualise, in another way\nthan mythical, certain things in nature, and afterwards to humanise,\nup to a certain point, the noble implements wrought by human skill out\nof natural materials. And this is another element in all these\nstories, as it is in the folk-lore also of other lands. In the tale of\nthe Sons of Turenn, the stones of the wayside tell to Lugh the story\nof the death of his father Kian, and the boat of Mananan, indwelt by a\nspirit, flies hither and thither over the seas, obeying the commands,\neven the thought, of its steersman. The soul of some famed spears is\nso hot for slaughter that, when it is not being used in battle, its\npoint must stand in a bath of blood or of drowsy herbs, lest it\nshould slay the host. The swords murmur and hiss and cry out for the\nbattle; the shield of the hero hums louder and louder, vibrating for\nthe encouragement of the warrior. Even the wheels of Cuchulain's\nchariot roar as they whirl into the fight. This partial life given to\nthe weapons of war is not specially Celtic. Indeed, it is more common\nin Teutonic than in Celtic legend, and it seems probable that it was\nowing to the Norsemen that it was established in the Hero tales of\nIreland.\n\nThis addition of life, or of some of the powers of life, to tree and\nwell and boulder-stone, to river and lake and hill, and sword and\nspear, is common to all mythologies, but the special character of each\nnation or tribe modifies the form of the life-imputing stories. In\nIreland the tree, the stream were not dwelt in by a separate living\nbeing, as in Grecian story; the half-living powers they had were given\nto them from without, by the gods, the demons, the fairies; and in the\ncase of the weapons, the powers they had of act or sound arose from\nthe impassioned thoughts and fierce emotions of their forger or their\nwielder, which, being intense, were magically transferred to them. The\nCeltic nature is too fond of reality, too impatient of illusion, to\nbelieve in an actual living spirit in inanimate things. At least, that\nis the case in the stories of the Hero and the Fenian Cycles.[5]\n\n   [5] Everything, on the contrary, in the Mythological Cycle is\n   gifted with life, all the doings and things of nature are\n   represented as the work of living creatures; but it is quite\n   possible that those in Ireland who made these myths were not\n   Celts at all.\n\nWhat the Irish of the Heroic, and still more of the Fenian Cycle, did\nmake in their imagination was a world, outside of themselves, of\nliving spiritual beings, in whose actuality they fully believed, and\nin whom a great number of them still believe. A nation, if I may use\nthis term, dwelt under the sea. Another dwelt in the far island of the\nocean, the Isle of the Ever-Young. Another dwelt in the land, in the\ngreen hills and by the streams of Ireland; and these were the ancient\ngods who had now lost their dominion over the country, but lived on,\nwith all their courtiers and warriors and beautiful women in a country\nunderground. As time went on, their powers were dwarfed, and they\nbecame small of size, less beautiful, and in our modern times are less\ninclined to enter into the lives of men and women. But the Irish\npeasant still sees them flitting by his path in the evening light, or\ndancing on the meadow round the grassy mound, singing and playing\nstrange melodies; or mourns for the child they have carried away to\nlive with them and forget her people, or watches with fear his\ndreaming daughter who has been touched by them, and is never again\nquite a child of this earth, or quite of the common race of man.\n\nThese were the invisible lands and peoples of the Irish imagination;\nand they live in and out of many of the stories. Cuchulain is lured\ninto a fairy-land, and lives for more than a year in love with Fand,\nMananan's wife. Into another fairy-land, through zones of mist,\nCormac, as is told here, was lured by Mananan, who now has left the\nsea to play on the land. Ois\u00edn, as I have already said, flies with\nNiam over the sea to the island of Eternal Youth. Etain, out of the\nimmortal land, is born into an Irish girl and reclaimed and carried\nback to her native shore by Midir, a prince of the Fairy Host. Ethne,\nwhose story also is here, has lived for all her youth in the court of\nAngus, deep in the hill beside the rushing of the Boyne.\n\nThese stories are but a few out of a great number of the loves and\nwars between the men and women of the human and the fairy races.\nCuriously enough, as the stories become less ancient, the relations\nbetween men and the fairies are more real, more close, even more\naffectionate. Finn and the Fianna seem to be almost in daily\ncompanionship with the fairy host--much nearer to them than the men of\nthe Heroic Cycle are to the gods. They interchange love and music and\nbattle and adventure with one another. They are, for the most part,\nexcellent friends; and their intercourse suffers from no doubt. It is\nas real as the intercourse between Welsh and English on the\nBorderland.\n\nThere was nothing illusive, nothing merely imaginary, in these fairy\nworlds for the Irish hero or the Irish people. They believed the lands\nto be as real as their own, and the indwellers of fairyland to have\nlike passions with themselves. Finn is not a bit surprised when\nVivionn the giantess sits beside him on the hill, or Fergus when King\nIubdan stands on his hand; or St Patrick when Ethne, out of fairyland,\ndies on his breast, or when he sees, at his spell, Cuchulain, dead\nsome nine hundred years, come forth out of the dark gates of Sheol,\nhigh in his chariot, grasping his deadly spear, driven as of old by\nhis well-loved charioteer, drawn by the immortal steeds through the\nmist, and finally talking of his deeds and claiming a place in the\nChristian heaven--a place that Patrick yields to him. The invisible\nworlds lived, loved, and thought around this visible world, and were,\nit seems, closer and more real to the Celtic than to other races.\n\nBut it was not only these agreeable and lovely folk in pleasant\nhabitations whom the Irish made, but also spirits of another sort, of\nlesser powers and those chiefly malignant, having no fixed\ndwelling-place, homeless in the air and drifting with it, embodying\nthe venomous and deadly elements of the earth and the angers and\ncruelty of the sea, and the hypocrisy of them all--demons, some of\nwhom, like the stepmother of the children of Lir, have been changed\nfrom men or women because of wicked doings, but the most part born of\nthe evil in Nature herself. They do what harm they can to innocent\nfolk; they enter into, support, and direct--like Macbeth's\nwitches--the evil thoughts of men; they rejoice in the battle, in the\nwounds and pain and death of men; they shriek and scream and laugh\naround the head of the hero when he goes forth, like Cuchulain, to an\nunwearied slaughter of men. They make the blight, the deadly mist, the\ncruel tempest. To deceive is their pleasure; to discourage, to baffle,\nto ruin the hero is their happiness. Some of them are monsters of\nterrific aspect who abide in lakes or in desolate rocks, as the\nterrible tri-formed horse whom Fergus mac Leda conquered and by whom\nhe died.\n\nNaturally, as a link between these supernatural worlds and the natural\nworld, there arose a body of men and women in Irish legend who, by\nyears of study, gained a knowledge of, and power over, the\nsupernatural beings, and used these powers for hurt to the enemies of\ntheir kingdom, or for help to their own people. Some were wise,\nlearned, and statesmanlike, and used their powers for good. These were\nthe high Druids, and every king had a band of them at his court and in\nhis wars. They practiced what the Middle Ages called white magic.\nOthers were wizards, magicians, witches, who, like the children of\nCailitin, the foes of Cuchulain, or the three mutilated women whom\nMaev educated in evil craft to do evil to her foes, or the dread band\nthat deceived Cuchulain into his last ride of death, practised black\nmagic--evil, and the ministers of evil. Magic, and the doing of it,\nruns through the whole of Irish story-telling, and not only into pagan\nbut also into Christian legend; for it was easy to change the old gods\ninto devils, to keep the demonic creatures as demons, to replace the\nwise Druids by the priests and saints, and the wizards by the heretics\nwho gave themselves to sorcery. Thus the ancient supernaturalism of\nthe Irish has continued, with modern modifications, to the present\nday. The body of thought is much the same as it was in the days of\nConor and Finn; the clothing is a bit different.\n\nAnother characteristic of the stories, especially in the mythological\nperiod, is the barbaric brutality which appears in them. Curiously\nmingled with this, in direct contrast, is their tenderness. These\nextreme contrasts are common in the Celtic nature. A Gael, whether of\nIreland or the Western Isles, will pass in a short time from the\nwildest spirits, dancing and singing and drinking, into deep and grim\ndepression--the child of the present, whether in love or war; and in\nthe tales of Ireland there is a similar contrast between their\nbrutality and their tenderness. The sudden fierce jealousy and the\npitiless cruelty of their stepmother to the children of Lir is set\nover against the exquisite tenderness of Fionnuala, which pervades the\nstory like an air from heaven. The noble tenderness of Deirdre, of\nNaisi and his brothers, in life and death, to one another, is lovelier\nin contrast with the savage and treacherous revenge of Conor. The\ngreat pitifulness of Cuchulain's fight with his dear friend Ferdia,\nwhom he is compelled to slay; the crowning tenderness of Emer's\nrecollective love in song before she dies on Cuchulain's dead body,\nare in full contrast with the savage hard-heartedness and cruelties of\nMaev, and with the ruthless slaughters Cuchulain made of his foes, out\nof which he seems often to pass, as it were, in a moment, into\ntenderness and gracious speech. Even Finn, false for once to his\nconstant courtesy, revenges himself on Dermot so pitilessly that both\nhis son and grandson cry shame upon him.\n\nOf course this barbaric cruelty is common to all early periods in\nevery nation; and, whenever fierce passion is aroused, to civilised\nnations also. What is remarkable in the Irish tales is the\ncontemporary tenderness. The Vikings were as savage as the Irish, but\nthe savagery is not mingled with the Irish tenderness. At last, when\nwe pass from the Hero Cycle into the Cycle of Finn, there is scarcely\nany of the ancient brutality to be found in the host of romantic\nstories which gather round the chivalry of the Fenians.\n\nThere are other characteristics of these old tales on which I must\ndwell. The first is the extra-ordinary love of colour. This is not a\ncharacteristic of the early German, English or Scandinavian poems and\ntales. Its remarkable presence in Scottish poetry, at a time when it\nis scarcely to be found in English literature, I have traced elsewhere\nto the large admixture of Celtic blood in the Lowlands of Scotland. In\nearly Irish work it is to be found everywhere. In descriptions of\nNature, which chiefly appear in the Fenian Cycle and in Christian\ntimes, colour is not as much dwelt on as we should expect, for nowhere\nthat I have seen is it more delicate and varied than under the Irish\natmosphere. Yet, again and again, the amber colour of the streams as\nthey come from the boglands, and the crimson and gold of the\nsunsetting, and the changing green of the trees, and the blue as it\nvaries and settles down on the mountains when they go to their rest,\nand the green crystal of the sea in calm and the dark purple of it in\nstorm, and the white foam of the waves when they grow black in the\nsquall, and the brown of the moors, and the yellow and rose and\ncrimson of the flowers, and many another interchanging of colour, are\nseen and spoken of as if it were a common thing always to dwell on\ncolour. This literary custom I do not find in any other Western\nliterature. It is even more remarkable in the descriptions of the\ndress and weapons of the warriors and kings. They blaze with colour;\nand as gold was plentiful in Ireland in those far-off days, yellow and\nred are continually flashing in and out of the blue and green and rich\npurple of their dress. The women are dressed in as rich colours as the\nmen. When Eochy met Etain by the spring of pure water, as told in this\nbook, she must have flashed in the sunlight like a great jewel. Then,\nthe halls where they met and the houses of the kings are represented\nas glorious with colour, painted in rich patterns, hung with woven\ncloths dyed deep with crimson and blue and green and yellow. The\ncommon things in use, eating and drinking implements, the bags they\ncarry, the bed-clothing, the chess-men, the tables, are embroidered or\nchased or set with red carbuncles or white stones or with interlacing\nof gold. Colour is everywhere and everywhere loved. And where colour\nis loved the arts flourish, as the decorative arts flourished in\nIreland.\n\nLastly, on this matter, the Irish tale-tellers, even to the present\nday, dwell with persistence on the colour of the human body as a\nspecial loveliness, and with as much love of it as any Venetian when\nhe painted it. And they did this with a comparison of its colour to\nthe colours they observed in Nature, so that the colour of one was\nharmonised with the colour of the other. I might quote many such\ndescriptions of the appearance of the warriors--they are\nmultitudinous--but the picture of Etain is enough to illustrate what I\nsay--\"Her hair before she loosed it was done in two long tresses,\nyellow like the flower of the waterflag in summer or like red gold.\nHer hands were white as the snow of a single night, and her eyes as\nblue as the dark hyacinth, and her lips red as the berries of the\nrowan-tree, and her body as white as the foam of the sea-waves. The\nradiance of the moon was in her face and the light of wooing in her\neyes.\" So much for the Irish love of colour.[6]\n\n   [6] I give one example of the way colour was laid on to animals\n   just for the pleasure of it. \"And the eagle and cranes were red\n   with green heads, and their eggs were pure crimson and blue\";\n   and deep in the wood the travellers found \"strange birds with\n   white bodies and purple heads and golden beaks,\" and afterwards\n   three great birds, \"one blue and his head crimson, and another\n   crimson and his head green, and another speckled and his head\n   gold.\"\n\nTheir love of music was equally great; and was also connected with\nNature. \"The sound of the flowing of streams,\" said one of their\nbardic clan, \"is sweeter than any music of men.\" \"The harp of the\nwoods is playing music,\" said another. In Finn's Song to May, the\nwaterfall is singing a welcome to the pool below, the loudness of\nmusic is around the hill, and in the green fields the stream is\nsinging. The blackbird, the cuckoo, the heron and the lark are the\nmusicians of the world. When Finn asks his men what music they thought\nthe best, each says his say, but Ois\u00edn answers, \"The music of the\nwoods is sweetest to me, the sound of the wind and of the blackbird,\nand the cuckoo and the soft silence of the heron.\" And Finn himself,\nwhen asked what was his most beloved music, said first that it was\n\"the sharp whistling of the wind as it went through the uplifted\nspears of the seven battalions of the Fianna,\" and this was fitting\nfor a hero to say. But when the poet in him spoke, he said his music\nwas the crying of the sea-gull, and the noise of the waves, and the\nvoice of the cuckoo when summer was at hand, and the washing of the\nsea against the shore, and of the tide when it met the river of the\nWhite Trout, and of the wind rushing through the cloud. And many other\nsayings of the same kind this charming and poetic folk has said\nconcerning those sweet, strong sounds in Nature out of which the music\nof men was born.\n\nAgain, there is not much music in the Mythological Tales. Lugh, it is\ntrue, is a great harper, and the harp of the Dagda, into which he has\nbound his music, plays a music at whose sound all men laugh, and\nanother so that all men weep, and another so enthralling that all fall\nasleep; and these three kinds of music are heard through all the\nCycles of Tales. Yet when the old gods of the mythology became the\nSidhe,[7] the Fairy Host, they--having left their barbaric life\nbehind--became great musicians. In every green hill where the tribes\nof fairy-land lived, sweet, wonderful music was heard all day--such\nmusic that no man could hear but he would leave all other music to\nlisten to it, which \"had in it sorrows that man has never felt, and\njoys for which man has no name, and it seemed as if he who heard it\nmight break from time into eternity and be one of the immortals.\" And\nwhen Finn and his people lived, they, being in great harmony and union\nwith the Sidhe, heard in many adventures with them their lovely music,\nand it became their own. Indeed, Finn, who had twelve musicians, had\nas their chief one of the Fairy Host who came to dwell with him, a\nlittle man who played airs so divine that all weariness and sorrow\nfled away. And from him Finn's musicians learnt a more enchanted art\nthan they had known before. And so it came to pass that as in every\nfairy dwelling there was this divine art, so in every palace and\nchieftain's hall, and in every farm, there were harpers harping on\ntheir harps, and all the land was full of sweet sounds and\nairs--shaping in music, imaginative war, and sorrows, and joys, and\naspiration. Nor has their music failed. Still in the west and south of\nIreland, the peasant, returning home, hears, as the evening falls from\nthe haunted hills, airs unknown before, or at midnight a wild\ntriumphant song from the Fairy Host rushing by, or wakes with a dream\nmelody in his heart. And these are played and sung next day to the\nfolk sitting round the fire. Many who heard these mystic sounds became\nthemselves the makers of melodies, and went about the land singing and\nmaking and playing from village to village and cabin to cabin, till\nthe unwritten songs of Ireland were as numerous as they were various.\nMoore collected a hundred and twenty of them, but of late more than\nfive hundred he knew not of have been secured from the people and from\nmanuscripts for the pleasure of the world. And in them lives on the\nspirit of the Fianna, and the mystery of the Fairy Host, and the long\nsorrow and the fleeting joy of the wild weather in the heart of the\nIrish race.\n\n   [7] This word is pronounced Shee, and means \"the folk of the\n   fairy mounds.\"\n\nAs to the poetry of Ireland, that other Art which is illustrated in\nthis book, so fully has it been dwelt on by many scholars and critics\nthat it needs not be touched here other than lightly and briefly. The\nhonour and dignity of the art of poetry goes back in Irish mythology\nto a dim antiquity. The ancient myth said that the nine hazels of\nwisdom grew round a deep spring beneath the sea, and the hazels were\nthe hazels of inspiration and of poetry--so early in Ireland were\ninspiration and poetry made identical with wisdom. Seven streams of\nwisdom flowed from that fountain-head, and when they had fed the world\nreturned to it again. And all the art-makers of mankind, and of all\narts, have drunk of their waters. Five salmon in the spring ate of the\nhazel nuts, and some haunted the rivers of Ireland; and whosoever,\nlike Finn, tasted the flesh of these immortal fish, was possessed of\nthe wisdom which is inspiration and poetry. Such was the ancient Irish\nconception of the art of poetry.\n\nIt is always an art which grows slowly into any excellence, and it\nneeds for such growth a quieter life than the Irish lived for many\ncenturies. Poems appear but rarely in the mythological or heroic\ncycles, and are loosely scattered among the prose of the bardic tales.\nA few are of war, but they are chiefly dirges like the Song of Emer\nover the dead body of Cuchulain, or that of Deirdre over\nNaisi--pathetic wailings for lost love. There is an abrupt and pitiful\npain in the brief songs of Fionnuala, but I fancy these were made and\ninserted in Christian times. Poetry was more at home among the Fianna.\nThe conditions of life were easier; there was more leisure and more\nromance. And the other arts, which stimulate poetry, were more widely\npractised than in the earlier ages. Finn's Song to May, here\ntranslated, is of a good type, frank and observant, with a fresh air\nin it, and a fresh pleasure in its writing. I have no doubt that at\nthis time began the lyric poetry of Ireland, and it reached, under\nChristian influences, a level of good, I can scarcely say excellent,\nwork, at a time when no other lyrical poetry in any vernacular existed\nin Europe or the Islands. It was religious, mystic, and chiefly\npathetic--prayers, hymns, dirges, regrets in exile, occasional stories\nof the saints whose legendary acts were mixed with pagan elements, and\nmost of these were adorned with illustrations drawn from natural\nbeauty or from the doings of birds and beasts--a great affection for\nwhom is prominent in the Celtic nature. The Irish poets sent this\nlyric impulse into Iceland, Wales, and Scotland, and from Scotland\ninto England; and the rise of English vernacular poetry instead of\nLatin in the seventh and eighth centuries is due to the impulse given\nby the Irish monasteries at Whitby and elsewhere in Northumbria. The\nfirst rude lyric songs of C\u00e6dmon were probably modelled on the hymns\nof Colman.\n\nOne would think that poetry, which arose so early in a nation's life,\nwould have developed fully. But this was not the case in Ireland. No\nnarrative, dramatic, didactic, or epic poetry of any importance arose,\nand many questions and answers might be made concerning this curious\nrestriction of development. The most probable solution of this problem\nis that there was never enough peace in Ireland or continuity of\nnational existence or unity, to allow of a continuous development of\nany one of the arts into all its forms. Irish poetry never advanced\nbeyond the lyric. In that form it lasted all through the centuries; it\nlasts still at the present day, and Douglas Hyde has proved how much\ncharm belongs to it in his book on the _Love Songs of Connacht_.\n\nIt has had a long, long history; it has passed through many phases; it\nhas sung of love and sorrow, of national wars and hopes, of Ireland\nherself as the Queen of Sorrow, of exile regrets from alien shores, of\nrebellion, of hatred of England, of political strife, in ballads sung\nin the streets, of a thousand issues of daily life and death--but of\nworld-wide affairs, of great passions and duties and fates evolving in\nepic or clashing in drama, of continuous human lives in narrative\n(except in prose), of the social life of cities or of philosophic\nthought enshrined in stately verse, it has not sung. What it may do in\nthe future, if Irish again becomes a tongue of literature in lofty\npoetry, lies on the knees of the gods. I wish it well, but such a\ndevelopment seems now too late. The Irish genius, if it is to speak in\ndrama, in narrative poetry or in an epic, must speak, if it is to\ninfluence or to charm the world beyond the Irish shore, in a\nworld-language like English, and of international as well as of Irish\nhumanity.\n\nThese elements on which I have dwelt seem to me the most distinctive,\nthe most Irish, in the Tales in this book. There are many others on\nwhich a more minute analysis might exercise itself, phases of feeling\nconcerning war or love or friendship or honour or the passions, but\nthese are not specially Irish. They belong to common human nature, and\nhave their close analogies in other mythologies, in other Folk-tales,\nin other Sagas. I need not touch them here. But there is one element\nin all the Irish tales which I have not yet mentioned, and it brings\nall the others within its own circumference, and suffuses them with\nits own atmosphere. It is the love of Ireland, of the land itself for\nits own sake--a mystic, spiritual imaginative passion which in the\nsoul of the dweller in the country is a constant joy, and in the heart\nof the exile is a sick yearning for return. There are not many direct\nexpressions of this in the stories; but it underlies the whole of\nthem, and it is also in the air they breathe. But now and again it\ndoes find clear expression, and in each of the cycles we have\ndiscussed. When the sons of Turenn are returning, wounded to death,\nfrom the Hill of Mochaen, they felt but one desire. \"Let us but see,\"\nsaid Iuchar and Iucharba to their brother Brian, \"the land of Erin\nagain, the hills round Telltown, and the dewy plain of Bregia and the\nquiet waters of the Boyne and our father's D\u00fan thereby, and healing\nwill come to us; or if death come, we can endure it after that.\" Then\nBrian raised them up; and they saw that they were now near by under\nBen Edar; and at the strand of the Bull they came to land. That is\nfrom the Mythological Cycle.\n\nIn the Heroic Cycle it appears in the longing cry for return to\nIreland of Naisi and his brothers, which drives them out of Alba to\ntheir death; but otherwise it is rarely expressed. In the Fenian Cycle\nit exists, not in any clear words, but in a general delight in the\nrivers, lakes, woods, valleys, plains, and mountains of Ireland. Every\ndescription of them, and of life among them, is done with a loving,\nobservant touch; and moreover, the veil of magic charm is thrown over\nall the land by the creation in it of the life and indwelling of the\nfairy host. The Fianna loved their country well.\n\nWhen Christianity came, this deep-set sentiment did not lessen. It\ngrew even stronger, and in exile it became a passion. It is\nillustrated by the songs of deep regret and affection Columba made in\nIona, from whose rocky shores he looked day after day towards the west\nwhile the mists rose over Ireland. One little story of great beauty\nenshrines his passion. One morning he called to his side one of his\nmonks, and said, \"Go to the margin of the sea on the western side of\nour isle; and there, coming from the north of Ireland, you will see a\nvoyaging crane, very weary and beaten by the storms, and it will fall\nat your feet on the beach. Lift it up with pity and carry it to the\nhut, nourish it for three days, and when it is refreshed and strong\nagain it will care no more to stay with us in exile, but to fly back\nto sweet Ireland, the dear country where it was born. I charge you\nthus, for it comes from the land where I was born myself.\" And when\nhis servant returned, having done as he was ordered, Columba said,\n\"May God bless you, my son. Since you have well cared for our exiled\nguest, you will see it return to its own land in three days.\" And so\nit was. It rose, sought its path for a moment through the sky, and\ntook flight on a steady wing for Ireland. The spirit of that story has\nnever died in the soul of the Irish and in their poetry up to the\npresent day.\n\nLastly, as we read these stories, even in a modern dress, an\nimpression of great ancientry is made upon us, so much so that some\nscholars have tried to turn Finn into a mythical hero--but if he be as\nold as that implies, of how great an age must be the clearly mythic\ntales which gather round the Tuatha de Danaan? However this may be,\nthe impression of ancientry is deep and agreeable. All myths in any\nnation are, of course, of a high antiquity, but as they treat of the\nbeginning of things, they mingle an impression of youth with one of\nage. This is very pleasant to the imagination, and especially so if\nthe myths, as in Ireland, have some poetic beauty or strangeness, as\nin the myth I have referred to--of the deep spring of clear water and\nthe nine hazels of wisdom that encompass it. This mingling of the\nbeauty of youth and the honour of ancientry runs through all the Irish\ntales. Youth and the love of it, of its beauty and strength, adorn and\nvitalize their grey antiquity. But where, in their narrative, the\nhero's youth is over and the sword weak in his hand, and the passion\nless in his and his sweetheart's blood, life is represented as\nscarcely worth the living. The famed men and women die young--the sons\nof Turenn, Cuchulain, Conall, Dermot, Emer, Deirdre, Naisi, Oscar.\nOis\u00edn has three hundred years of youth in that far land in the\ninvention of which the Irish embodied their admiration of love and\nyouth. His old age, when sudden feebleness overwhelms him, is made by\nthe bardic clan as miserable, as desolate as his youth was joyous.\nAgain, Finn lives to be an old man, but the immortal was in him, and\neither he has been born again in several re-incarnations (for the\nIrish held from time to time the doctrine of the transmigration of\nsouls), or he sleeps, like Barbarossa, in a secret cavern, with all\nhis men around him, and beside him the mighty horn of the Fianna,\nwhich, when the day of fate and freedom comes, will awaken with three\nloud blasts the heroes and send them forth to victory. Old as she is,\nIreland does not grow old, for she has never reached her maturity. Her\nfull existence is before her, not behind her. And when she reaches it\nher ancientry and all its tales will be dearer to her than they have\nbeen in the past. They will be an inspiring national asset. In them\nand in their strange admixture of different and successive periods of\ncustoms, thoughts and emotions (caused by the continuous editing and\nre-editing of them, first in oral recitation and then at the hands of\nscribes), Ireland will see the record of her history, not the history\nof external facts, but of her soul as it grew into consciousness of\npersonality; as it established in itself love of law, of moral right,\nof religion, of chivalry, of courtesy in war and daily life; as it\nrejoiced, and above all, as it suffered and was constant, in suffering\nand oppression, to its national ideals.\n\nIt seems as if, once at least, this aspect of the tales of Ireland was\nseen by men of old, for there is a story which tells that heaven\nitself desired their remembrance, and that we should be diverted and\ninspired by them. In itself it is a record of the gentleness of Irish\nChristianity to Irish heathendom, and of its love of the heroic past.\nFor one day when Patrick and his clerks were singing the Mass at the\nRath of the Red Ridge, where Finn was wont to be, he saw Keelta, a\nchief of the Fianna, draw near with his companions, and Keelta's huge\nhounds were with him. They were men so tall and great that fear fell\non the clerks, but Patrick met with and asked their chieftain's name.\n\"I am Keelta,\" he answered, \"son of Ronan of the Fianna.\" \"Was it not\na good lord you were with,\" said Patrick, \"Finn, son of Cumhal?\" And\nKeelta said, \"If the brown leaves falling in the wood were gold, if\nthe waves of the sea were silver, Finn would have given them all\naway.\" \"What was it kept you through your lifetime?\" said Patrick.\n\"Truth that was in our hearts, and strength in our hands, and\nfulfilment in our tongues,\" said Keelta. Then Patrick gave them food\nand drink and good treatment, and talked with them. And in the morning\nthe two angels who guarded him came to him, and he asked them if it\nwere any harm before God, King of heaven and earth, that he should\nlisten to the stories of the Fianna. And the angels answered, \"Holy\nClerk, these old fighting men do not remember more than a third of\ntheir tales by reason of the forgetfulness of age, but whatever they\ntell write it down on the boards of the poets and in the words of the\npoets, for it will be a diversion to the companies and the high people\nof the latter times to listen to them.\"[8] So spoke the angels, and\nPatrick did as he bade them, and the stories are in the world to this\nday.\n\n   [8] This is quoted with a few omissions, from Lady Gregory's\n   delightful version, in her _Book of Saints and Wonders_, of an\n   episode in _The Colloquy of the Ancients_ (Silva Gadelica).\n\nSTOPFORD A. BROOKE\n\nST PATRICK'S DAY, 1910\n\n\n\n\nCOIS NA TEINEADH\n\n(_By the Fireside._)\n\n\n   Where glows the Irish hearth with peat\n     There lives a subtle spell--\n   The faint blue smoke, the gentle heat,\n     The moorland odours, tell\n\n   Of long roads running through a red\n     Untamed unfurrowed land,\n   With curlews keening overhead,\n     And streams on either hand;\n\n   Black turf-banks crowned with whispering sedge,\n     And black bog-pools below;\n   While dry stone wall or ragged hedge\n     Leads on, to meet the glow\n\n   From cottage doors, that lure us in\n     From rainy Western skies,\n   To seek the friendly warmth within,\n     The simple talk and wise;\n\n   Or tales of magic, love and arms\n     From days when princes met\n   To listen to the lay that charms\n     The Connacht peasant yet.\n\n   There Honour shines through passions dire,\n     There beauty blends with mirth--\n   Wild hearts, ye never did aspire\n     Wholly for things of earth!\n\n   Cold, cold this thousand years--yet still\n     On many a time-stained page\n   Your pride, your truth, your dauntless will,\n     Burn on from age to age.\n\n   And still around the fires of peat\n     Live on the ancient days;\n   There still do living lips repeat\n     The old and deathless lays.\n\n   And when the wavering wreaths ascend,\n     Blue in the evening air,\n   The soul of Ireland seems to bend\n     Above her children there.\n\n\n\n\nBARDIC ROMANCES\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nThe Story of the Children of Lir\n\n\nLong ago there dwelt in Ireland the race called by the name of De\nDanaan, or People of the Goddess Dana. They were a folk who delighted\nin beauty and gaiety, and in fighting and feasting, and loved to go\ngloriously apparelled, and to have their weapons and household vessels\nadorned with jewels and gold. They were also skilled in magic arts,\nand their harpers could make music so enchanting that a man who heard\nit would fight, or love, or sleep, or forget all earthly things, as\nthey who touched the strings might will him to do. In later times the\nDanaans had to dispute the sovranty of Ireland with another race, the\nChildren of Miled, whom men call the Milesians, and after much\nfighting they were vanquished. Then, by their sorceries and\nenchantments, when they could not prevail against the invaders, they\nmade themselves invisible, and they have dwelt ever since in the Fairy\nMounds and raths of Ireland, where their shining palaces are hidden\nfrom mortal eyes. They are now called the Shee, or Fairy Folk of\nErinn, and the faint strains of unearthly music that may be heard at\ntimes by those who wander at night near to their haunts come from the\nharpers and pipers who play for the People of Dana at their revels in\nthe bright world underground.\n\nAt the time when the tale begins, the People of Dana were still the\nlords of Ireland, for the Milesians had not yet come. They were\ndivided it is said, into many families and clans; and it seemed good\nto them that their chiefs should assemble together, and choose one to\nbe king and ruler over the whole people. So they met in a great\nassembly for this purpose, and found that five of the greatest lords\nall desired the sovranty of Erin. These five were B\u00f3v the Red, and\nIlbrech of Assaroe, and Lir from the Hill of the White Field, which is\non Slieve Fuad in Armagh; and Midir the Proud, who dwelt at Slieve\nCallary in Longford; and Angus of Brugh na Boyna, which is now\nNewgrange on the river Boyne, where his mighty mound is still to be\nseen. All the Danaan lords saving these five went into council\ntogether, and their decision was to give the sovranty to B\u00f3v the Red,\npartly because he was the eldest, partly because his father was the\nDagda, mightiest of the Danaans, and partly because he was himself the\nmost deserving of the five.\n\nAll were content with this, save only Lir, who thought himself the\nfittest for royal rule; so he went away from the assembly in anger,\ntaking leave of no one. When this became known, the Danaan lords would\nhave pursued Lir, to burn his palace and inflict punishment and\nwounding on himself for refusing obedience and fealty to him whom the\nassembly had chosen to reign over them. But B\u00f3v the Red forbade them,\nfor he would not have war among the Danaans; and he said, \"I am none\nthe less King of the People of Dana because this man will not do\nhomage to me.\"\n\nThus it went on for a long time. But at last a great misfortune befell\nLir, for his wife fell ill, and after three nights she died. Sorely\ndid Lir grieve for this, and he fell into a great dejection of spirit,\nfor his wife was very dear to him and was much thought of by all folk,\nso that her death was counted one of the great events of that time.\n\nNow B\u00f3v the Red came ere long to hear of it, and he said, \"If Lir\nwould choose to have my help and friendship now, I can serve him well,\nfor his wife is no longer living, and I have three maidens, daughters\nof a friend, in fosterage with me, namely, Eva and Aoife[9] and Elva,\nand there are none fairer and of better name in Erin; one of these he\nmight take to wife.\" And the lords of the Danaans heard what he said,\nand answered that it was true and well bethought. So messengers were\nsent to Lir, to say that if he were willing to yield the sovranty to\nB\u00f3v the Red, he might make alliance with him and wed one of his\nfoster-children. To Lir, having been thus gently entreated, it seemed\ngood to end the feud, and he agreed to the marriage. So the following\nday he set out with a train of fifty chariots from the Hill of the\nWhite Field and journeyed straight for the palace of B\u00f3v the Red,\nwhich was by Lough Derg on the river Shannon.\n\n   [9] Pronounced Eefa.\n\nArriving there, he found about him nothing but joy and glad faces, for\nthe renewal of amity and concord; and his people were welcomed, and\nwell entreated, and handsomely entertained for the night.\n\n[Illustration: \"There sat the three maidens with the Queen\"]\n\nAnd there sat the three maidens on the same couch with the Danaan\nQueen, and B\u00f3v the Red bade Lir choose which one he would have to\nwife.\n\n\"The maidens are all fair and noble,\" said Lir, \"but the eldest is\nfirst in consideration and honour, and it is she that I will take, if\nshe be willing.\"\n\n\"The eldest is Eva,\" said B\u00f3v the Red, \"and she will wed thee if it be\npleasing to thee.\" \"It is pleasing,\" said Lir, and the pair were\nwedded the same night. Lir abode for fourteen days in the palace of\nB\u00f3v the Red, and then departed with his bride, to make a great\nwedding-feast among his own people.\n\nIn due time after this Eva, wife of Lir, bore him two fair children at\na birth, a daughter and a son. The daughter's name was called\nFionnuala of the Fair Shoulder, and the son's name was Hugh. And\nagain she bore him two sons, Fiachra and Conn; and at their birth she\ndied. At this Lir was sorely grieved and afflicted, and but for the\ngreat love he bore to his four children he would gladly have died too.\n\nWhen the folk at the palace of B\u00f3v the Red heard that, they also were\nsorely grieved at the death of their foster-child, and they lamented\nher with keening and with weeping. B\u00f3v the Red said, \"We grieve for\nthis maiden on account of the good man we gave her to, and for his\nfriendship and fellowship; howbeit our friendship shall not be\nsundered, for we shall give him to wife her sister, namely Aoife.\"\n\nWord of this was brought to Lir, and he went once more to Lough Derg\nto the palace of B\u00f3v the Red and there he took to wife Aoife, the fair\nand wise, and brought her to his own home. And Aoife held the children\nof Lir and of her sister in honour and affection; for indeed no one\ncould behold these four children without giving them the love of his\nsoul.\n\nFor love of them, too, came B\u00f3v the Red often to the house of Lir, and\nhe would take them to his own house at times and let them spend a\nwhile there, and then to their own home again. All of the People of\nDana who came visiting and feasting to Lir had joy and delight in the\nchildren, for their beauty and gentleness; and the love of their\nfather for them was exceeding great, so that he would rise very early\nevery morning to lie down among them and play with them.\n\nOnly, alas! a fire of jealousy began to burn at last in the breast of\nAoife, and hatred and bitter ill-will grew in her mind towards the\nchildren of Lir. And she feigned an illness, and lay under it for the\nmost of a year, meditating a black and evil deed. At last she said\nthat a journey from home might recover her, and she bade her chariot\nbe yoked and set out, taking with her the four children. Fionnuala was\nsorely unwilling to go with her on that journey, for she had a\nmisgiving, and a prevision of treachery and of kin-slaying against her\nin the mind of Aoife. Yet she was not able to avoid the mischief that\nwas destined for her.\n\nSo Aoife journeyed away from the Hill of the White Field, and when she\nhad come some way she spoke to her people and said, \"Kill me, I pray\nye, the four children of Lir, who have taken the love of their father\nfrom me, and ye may ask of me what reward ye will.\" \"Not so,\" said\nthey, \"by us they shall never be killed; it is an evil deed that you\nhave thought of, and evil it is but to have spoken of it.\"\n\nWhen they would not consent to her will, she drew a sword and would\nhave slain the children herself, but her womanhood overcame her and\nshe could not. So they journeyed on westward till they came to the\nshores of Loch Derryvaragh, and there they made a halt and the horses\nwere outspanned. Aoife bade the children bathe and swim in the lake,\nand they did so. Then Aoife by Druid spells and witchcraft put upon\neach of the children the form of a pure white swan, and she cried to\nthem:--\n\n  \"Out on the lake with you, children of Lir!\n  Cry with the water-fowl over the mere!\n  Breed and seed of you ne'er shall I see;\n  Woeful the tale to your friends shall be.\"\n\nThen the four swans turned their faces towards the woman, and\nFionnuala spoke to her and said, \"Evil is thy deed, Aoife, to destroy\nus thus without a cause, and think not that thou shalt escape\npunishment for it. Assign us even some period to the ruin and\ndestruction that thou hast brought upon us.\"\n\n\"I shall do that,\" said Aoife, \"and it is this: in your present forms\nshall ye abide, and none shall release you till the woman of the South\nbe mated with the man of the North. Three hundred years shall ye be\nupon the waters of Derryvaragh, and three hundred upon the Straits of\nMoyle between Erinn and Alba,[10] and three hundred in the seas by\nErris and Inishglory, and then shall the enchantment have an end.\"\n\n   [10] Scotland. Inishglory is an island in the Bay of Erris, on\n   the Mayo coast.\n\nUpon this, Aoife was smitten with repentance, and she said, \"Since I\nmay not henceforth undo what has been done, I give you this, that ye\nshall keep your human speech, and ye shall sing a sad music such as no\nmusic in the world can equal, and ye shall have your reason and your\nhuman will, that the bird-shape may not wholly destroy you.\" Then she\nbecame as one possessed, and cried wildly like a prophetess in her\ntrance:--\n\n  \"Ye with the white faces! Ye with the stammering\n      Gaelic on your tongues!\n  Soft was your nurture in the King's house--\n  Now shall ye know the buffeting wind!\n  Nine hundred years upon the tide.\n\n  \"The heart of Lir shall bleed!\n  None of his victories shall stead him now!\n  Woe to me that I shall hear his groan,\n  Woe that I have deserved his wrath!\"\n\nThen they caught and yoked her horses, and Aoife went on her way till\nshe reached the palace of B\u00f3v the Red. Here she and her folk were\nwelcomed and entertained, and B\u00f3v the Red inquired of her why she had\nnot brought with her the children of Lir.\n\n\"I brought them not,\" she replied, \"because Lir loves thee not, and he\nfears that if he sends his children to thee, thou wouldst capture them\nand hold them for hostages.\"\n\n\"That is strange,\" said B\u00f3v the Red, \"for I love those children as if\nthey were my own.\" And his mind misgave him that some treachery had\nbeen wrought; and he sent messengers privily northwards to the Hill of\nthe White Field. \"For what have ye come?\" asked Lir. \"Even to bring\nyour children to B\u00f3v the Red,\" said they. \"Did they not reach you with\nAoife?\" said Lir. \"Nay,\" said the messengers, \"but Aoife said you\nwould not permit them to go with her.\"\n\nThen fear and trouble came upon Lir, for he surmised that Aoife had\nwrought evil upon the children. So his horses were yoked and he set\nout upon his road south-westward, until he reached the shores of Loch\nDerryvaragh. But as he passed by that water, Fionnuala saw the train\nof horsemen and chariots, and she cried to her brothers to come near\nto the shore, \"for,\" said she, \"these can only be the company of our\nfather who have come to follow and seek for us.\"\n\nLir, by the margin of the lake, saw the four swans and heard them\ntalking with human voices, and he halted and spoke to them. Then said\nFionnuala: \"Know, O Lir, that we are thy four children, and that she\nwho has wrought this ruin upon us is thy wife and our mother's sister,\nthrough the bitterness of her jealousy.\" Lir was glad to know that\nthey were at least living, and he said, \"Is it possible to put your\nown forms upon you again?\" \"It is not possible,\" said Fionnuala, \"for\nall the men on earth could not release us until the woman of the South\nbe mated with the man of the North.\" Then Lir and his people cried\naloud in grief and lamentation, and Lir entreated the swans to come on\nland and abide with him since they had their human reason and speech.\nBut Fionnuala said, \"That may not be, for we may not company with men\nany longer, but abide on the waters of Erinn nine hundred years. But\nwe have still our Gaelic speech, and moreover we have the gift of\nuttering sad music, so that no man who hears it thinks aught worth in\nthe world save to listen to that music for ever. Do you abide by the\nshore for this night and we shall sing to you.\"\n\nSo Lir and his people listened all night to the singing of the swans,\nnor could they move nor speak till morning, for all the high sorrows\nof the world were in that music, and it plunged them in dreams that\ncould not be uttered.\n\nNext day Lir took leave of his children and went on to the palace of\nB\u00f3v the Red. B\u00f3v reproached him that he had not brought with him his\nchildren. \"Woe is me,\" said Lir, \"it was not I that would not bring\nthem; but Aoife there, your own foster-child and their mother's\nsister, put upon them the forms of four snow-white swans, and there\nthey are on the Loch of Derryvaragh for all men to see; but they have\nkept still their reason and their human voice and their Gaelic.\"\n\nB\u00f3v the Red started when he heard this, and he knew that what Lir had\nsaid was true. Fiercely he turned to Aoife, and said, \"This treachery\nwill be worse, Aoife, for you than for them, for they shall be\nreleased in the end of time, but thy punishment shall be for ever.\"\nThen he smote her with a druid wand and she became a Demon of the Air,\nand flew shrieking from the hall, and in that form she abides to this\nday.\n\n[Illustration: \"They made an encampment and the swans sang to them\"]\n\nAs for B\u00f3v the Red, he came with his nobles and attendants to the\nshores of Loch Derryvaragh, and there they made an encampment, and the\nswans conversed with them and sang to them. And as the thing became\nknown, other tribes and clans of the People of Dana would also come\nfrom every part of Erinn and stay awhile to listen to the swans and\ndepart again to their homes; and most of all came their own friends\nand fellow-pupils from the Hill of the White Field. No such music as\ntheirs, say the historians of ancient times, ever was heard in Erinn,\nfor foes who heard it were at peace, and men stricken with pain or\nsickness felt their ills no more; and the memory of it remained with\nthem when they went away, so that a great peace and sweetness and\ngentleness was in the land of Erinn for those three hundred years that\nthe swans abode in the waters of Derryvaragh.\n\nBut one day Fionnuala said to her brethren, \"Do ye know, my dear\nones, that the end of our time here is come, all but this night only?\"\nThen great sorrow and distress overcame them, for in the converse with\ntheir father and kinsfolk and friends they had half forgotten that\nthey were no longer men, and they loved their home on Loch\nDerryvaragh, and feared the angry waves of the cold northern sea. But\nearly next day they came to the lough-side to speak with B\u00f3v the Red\nand with their father, and to bid them farewell, and Fionnuala sang to\nthem her last lament. Then the four swans rose in the air and flew\nnorthward till they were seen no more, and great was the grief among\nthose they left behind; and B\u00f3v the Red let it be proclaimed\nthroughout the length and breadth of Erin that no man should\nhenceforth presume to kill a swan, lest it might chance to be one of\nthe children of Lir.\n\nFar different was the dwelling-place which the swans now came to, from\nthat which they had known on Loch Derryvaragh. On either side of them,\nto north and south, stretched a wide coast far as the eye could see,\nbeset with black rocks and great precipices, and by it ran fiercely\nthe salt, bitter tides of an ever-angry sea, cold, grey, and misty;\nand their hearts sank to behold it and to think that there they must\nabide for three hundred years.\n\nEre long, one night, there came a thick murky tempest upon them, and\nFionnuala said, \"In this black and violent night, my brothers, we may\nbe driven apart from each other; let us therefore appoint a\nmeeting-place where we may come together again when the tempest is\noverpast.\" And they settled to meet at the Seal Rock, for this rock\nthey had now all learned to know.\n\nBy midnight the hurricane descended upon the Straits of Moyle, and the\nwaves roared upon the coast with a deafening noise, and thunder\nbellowed from the sky, and lightning was all the light they had. The\nswans were driven apart by the violence of the storm, and when at last\nthe wind fell and the seas grew calm once more, Fionnuala found\nherself alone upon the ocean-tide not far from the Seal Rock. And thus\nshe made her lament:--\n\n   \"Woe is me to be yet alive!\n   My wings are frozen to my sides.\n   Wellnigh has the tempest shattered my heart,\n   And my comely Hugh parted from me!\n\n   \"O my beloved ones, my Three,\n   Who slept under the shelter of my feathers,\n   Shall you and I ever meet again\n   Until the dead rise to life?\n\n   \"Where is Fiachra, where is Hugh?\n   Where is my fair Conn?\n   Shall I henceforth bear my part alone?\n   Woe is me for this disastrous night!\"\n\nFionnuala remained upon the Seal Rock until the morrow morn, watching\nthe tossing waters in all directions around her, until at last she saw\nConn coming towards her, and his head drooping and feathers drenched\nand disarrayed. Joyfully did the sister welcome him; and ere long,\nbehold, Fiachra also approaching them, cold and wet and faint, and the\nspeech was frozen in him that not a word he spake could be understood.\nSo Fionnuala put her wings about him, and said, \"If but Hugh came now,\nhow happy should we be!\"\n\nIn no long time after that they saw Hugh also approaching them across\nthe sea, and his head was dry and his feathers fair and unruffled, for\nhe had found shelter from the gale. Fionnuala put him under her\nbreast, and Conn under her right wing and Fiachra under her left, and\ncovered them wholly with her feathers. \"O children,\" she said to them,\n\"evil though ye think this night to have been, many such a one shall\nwe know from this time forward.\"\n\nSo there the swans continued, suffering cold and misery upon the tides\nof Moyle; and one while they would be upon the coast of Alba and\nanother upon the coast of Erinn, but the waters they might not leave.\nAt length there came upon them a night of bitter cold and snow such\nas they had never felt before, and Fionnuala sang this lament:--\n\n  \"Evil is this life.\n  The cold of this night,\n  The thickness of the snow,\n  The sharpness of the wind--\n\n  \"How long have they lain together,\n  Under my soft wings,\n  The waves beating upon us,\n  Conn and Hugh and Fiachra?\n\n  \"Aoife has doomed us,\n  Us, the four of us,\n  To-night to this misery--\n  Evil is this life.\"\n\nThus for a long time they suffered, till at length there came upon the\nStraits of Moyle a night of January so piercing cold that the like of\nit had never been felt. And the swans were gathered together upon the\nSeal Rock. The waters froze into ice around them, and each of them\nbecame frozen in his place, so that their feet and feathers clung to\nthe rock; and when the day came and they strove to leave the place,\nthe skin of their feet and the feathers of their breasts clove to the\nrock, they came naked and wounded away.\n\n\"Woe is me, O children of Lir,\" said Fionnuala, \"we are now indeed in\nevil case, for we cannot endure the salt water, yet we may not be away\nfrom it; and if the salt water gets into our sores we shall perish of\nit.\" And thus she sang:--\n\n   \"To-night we are full of keening;\n   No plumage to cover our bodies;\n   And cold to our tender feet\n   Are the rough rocks all awash.\n\n   \"Cruel to us was Aoife,\n   Who played her magic upon us,\n   And drove us out to the ocean,\n   Four wonderful, snow-white swans.\n\n   \"Our bath is the frothing brine\n   In the bay by red rocks guarded,\n   For mead at our father's table\n   We drink of the salt blue sea.\n\n   \"Three sons and a single daughter--\n   In clefts of the cold rocks dwelling,\n   The hard rocks, cruel to mortals.\n   --We are full of keening to-night.\"\n\nSo they went forth again upon the Straits of Moyle, and the brine was\ngrievously sharp and bitter to them, but they could not escape it nor\nshelter themselves from it. Thus they were, till at last their\nfeathers grew again and their sores were healed.\n\nOn one day it happened that they came to the mouth of the river Bann\nin the north of Erinn, and there they perceived a fair host of\nhorsemen riding on white steeds and coming steadily onward from the\nsouth-west \"Do ye know who yon riders are, children of Lir?\" asked\nFionnuala. \"We know not,\" said they, \"but it is like they are some\nparty of the People of Dana.\" Then they moved to the margin of the\nland, and the company they had seen came down to meet them; and\nbehold, it was Hugh and Fergus, the two sons of B\u00f3v the Red, and their\nnobles and attendants with them, who had long been seeking for the\nswans along the coast of the Straits of Moyle.\n\nMost lovingly and joyfully did they greet each other and the swans\ninquired concerning their father Lir, and B\u00f3v the Red, and the rest of\ntheir kinsfolk.\n\n\"They are well,\" said the Danaans; \"and at this time they are all\nassembled together in the palace of your father at the Hill of the\nWhite Field, where they are holding the Festival of the Age of\nYouth.[11] They are happy and gay and have no weariness or trouble,\nsave that you are not among them, and that they have not known where\nyou were since you left them at Lough Derryvaragh.\"\n\n   [11] A magic banquet which had the effect of preserving for\n   ever the youth of the People of Dana.\n\n\"That is not the tale of our lives,\" said Fionnuala.\n\nAfter that the company of the Danaans departed and brought word of the\nswans to B\u00f3v the Red and to Lir, who were rejoiced to hear that they\nwere living, \"for,\" said they, \"the children shall obtain relief in\nthe end of time.\" And the swans went back to the tides of Moyle and\nabode there till their time to be in that place had expired.\n\nWhen that day had come, Fionnuala declared it to them, and they rose\nup wheeling in the air, and flew westward across Ireland till they\ncame to the Bay of Erris, and there they abode as was ordained. Here\nit happened that among those of mortal MEN whose dwellings bordered on\nthe bay was a young man of gentle blood, by name Evric, who having\nheard the singing of the swans came down to speak with them, and\nbecame their friend. After that he would often come to hear their\nmusic, for it was very sweet to him; and he loved them greatly, and\nthey him. All their story they told him, and he it was who set it\ndown in order, even as it is here narrated.\n\nMuch hardship did they suffer from cold and tempest in the waters of\nthe Western Sea, yet not so much as they had to bear by the coasts of\nthe ever-stormy Moyle, and they knew that the day of redemption was\nnow drawing near. In the end of the time Fionnuala said, \"Brothers,\nlet us fly to the Hill of the White Field, and see how Lir our father\nand his household are faring.\" So they arose and set forward on their\nairy journey until they reached the Hill of the White Field, and thus\nit was that they found the place: namely, desolate and thorny before\nthem, with nought but green mounds where once were the palaces and\nhomes of their kin, and forests of nettles growing over them, and\nnever a house nor a hearth. And the four drew closely together and\nlamented aloud at that sight, for they knew that old times and things\nhad passed away in Erinn, and they were lonely in a land of strangers,\nwhere no man lived who could recognise them when they came to their\nhuman shapes again. They knew not that Lir and their kin of the People\nof Dana yet dwelt invisible in the bright world within the Fairy\nMounds, for their eyes were holden that they should not see, since\nother things were destined for them than to join the Danaan folk and\nbe of the company of the immortal Shee.\n\nSo they went back again to the Western Sea until the holy Patrick\ncame into Ireland and preached the Faith of the One God and of the\nChrist. But a man of Patrick's men, namely the Saint Mochaov\u00f3g,[12]\ncame to the Island of Inishglory in Erris Bay, and there built himself\na little church of stone, and spent his life in preaching to the folk\nand in prayer. The first night he came to the island the swans heard\nthe sound of his bell ringing at matins on the following morn, and\nthey leaped in terror, and the three brethren left Fionnuala and fled\naway. Fionnuala cried to them, \"What ails you, beloved brothers?\" \"We\nknow not,\" said they, \"but we have heard a thin and dreadful voice,\nand we cannot tell what it is.\" \"That is the voice of the bell of\nMochaov\u00f3g,\" said Fionnuala, \"and it is that bell which shall deliver\nus and drive away our pains, according to the will of God.\"\n\n   [12] Pronounced Mo-chweev-ogue.\n\nThen the brethren came back and hearkened to the chanting of the\ncleric until matins were performed. \"Let us chant our music now,\" said\nFionnuala. So they began, and chanted a solemn, slow, sweet, fairy\nsong in adoration of the High King of Heaven and of Earth.\n\nMochaov\u00f3g heard that, and wondered, and when he saw the swans he spoke\nto them and inquired them. They told him they were the children of\nLir. \"Praised be God for that,\" said Mochaov\u00f3g. \"Surely it is for your\nsakes that I have come to this island above every other island that is\nin Erinn. Come to land now, and trust in me that your salvation and\nrelease are at hand.\"\n\nSo they came to land, and dwelt with Mochaov\u00f3g in his own house, and\nthere they kept the canonical hours with him and heard mass. And\nMochaov\u00f3g caused a good craftsman to make chains of silver for the\nswans, and put one chain between Fionnuala and Hugh and another\nbetween Conn and Fiachra; and they were a joy and solace of mind to\nthe Saint, and their own woe and pain seemed to them dim and far off\nas a dream.\n\nNow at this time it happened that the King of Connacht was Lairgnen,\nson of Colman, and he was betrothed to Deoca, daughter of the King of\nMunster. And so it was that when Deoca came northward to be wedded to\nLairgnen she heard the tale of the swans and of their singing, and she\nprayed the king that he would obtain them for her, for she longed to\npossess them. But Lairgnen would not ask them of Mochaov\u00f3g. Then Deoca\nset out homeward again, and vowed that she would never return to\nLairgnen till she had the swans; and she came as far as the church of\nDalua, which is now called Kildaloe, in Clare. Then Lairgnen sent\nmessengers for the birds to Mochaov\u00f3g, but he would not give them up.\n\nAt this Lairgnen was very wroth, and he went himself to Mochaov\u00f3g, and\nhe found the cleric and the four birds at the altar. But Lairgnen\nseized upon the birds by their silver chains, two in each hand dragged\nthem away to the place where Deoca was; and Mochaov\u00f3g followed them.\nBut when they came to Deoca and she had laid her hands upon the\nbirds, behold, their covering of feathers fell off and in their places\nwere three shrunken and feeble old men and one lean and withered old\nwoman, fleshless and bloodless from extreme old age. And Lairgnen was\nstruck with amazement and fear, and went out from that place.\n\nThen Fionnuala said to Mochaov\u00f3g, \"Come now and baptize us quickly,\nfor our end is near. And if you are grieved at parting from us, know\nthat also to us it is a grief. Do thou make our grave when we are\ndead, and place Conn at my right side and Fiachra at my left, and Hugh\nbefore my face, for thus they were wont to be when I sheltered them on\nmany a winter night by the tides of Moyle.\"\n\nSo Mochaov\u00f3g baptized the three brethren and their sister; and shortly\nafterwards they found peace and death, and they were buried even as\nFionnuala had said. And over their tomb a stone was raised, and their\nnames and lineage graved on it in branching Ogham[13]; and lamentation\nand prayers were made for them, and their souls won to heaven.\n\n   [13] See p. 133, _note_.\n\nBut Mochaov\u00f3g was sorrowful, and grieved after them so long as he\nlived on earth.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nThe Quest of the Sons of Turenn\n\n\nLong ago, when the people of Dana yet held lordship in Erinn, they\nwere sorely afflicted by hordes of sea-rovers named Fomorians who used\nto harry the country and carry off youths and maidens into captivity.\nThey also imposed cruel and extortionate taxes upon the people, for\nevery kneading trough, and every quern for grinding corn, and every\nflagstone for baking bread had to pay its tax. And an ounce of gold\nwas paid as a poll-tax for every man, and if any man would not or\ncould not pay, his nose was cut off. Under this tyranny the whole\ncountry groaned, but they had none who was able to band them together\nand to lead them in battle against their oppressors.\n\nNow before this it happened that one of the lords of the Danaans named\nKian had married with Ethlinn, daughter of Balor, a princess of the\nFomorians. They had a son named Lugh Lamfada, or Lugh of the Long Arm,\nwho grew up into a youth of surpassing beauty and strength. And if his\nbody was noble and mighty, no less so was his mind, for lordship and\nauthority grew to him by the gift of the Immortals, and whatever he\npurposed that would he perform, whatever it might cost in time or\ntoil, in tears or in blood. Now this Lugh was not brought up in Erinn\nbut in a far-off isle of the western sea, where the sea-god Mananan\nand the other Immortals nurtured and taught him, and made him fit\nalike for warfare or for sovranty, when his day should come to work\ntheir will on earth. Hither in due time came the report of the\ngrievous and dishonouring oppression wrought by the Fomorians upon the\npeople of Dana, and that report was heard by Lugh. Then Lugh said to\nhis tutors \"It were a worthy deed to rescue my father and the people\nof Erinn from this tyranny; let me go thither and attempt it.\" And\nthey said to him, \"Go, and blessing and victory be with thee.\" So Lugh\narmed himself and mounted his fairy steed, and called his friends and\nfoster-brothers about him, and across the bright and heaving surface\nof the waters they rode like the wind, until they took land in Erinn.\n\nNow the chiefs of the Danaan folk were assembled upon the Hill of\nUsnach, which is upon the western side of Tara in Meath, in order to\nmeet there the stewards of the Fomorians and to pay them their\ntribute. As they awaited the arrival of the Fomorians they became\naware of a company on horseback, coming from the west, before whom\nrode a young man who seemed to command them all, and whose countenance\nwas as radiant as the sun upon a dry summer's day, so that the Danaans\ncould scarcely gaze upon it. He rode upon a white horse and was armed\nwith a sword, and on his head was a helmet set with precious stones.\nThe Danaan folk welcomed him as he came among them, and asked him of\nhis name and his business among them. As they were thus talking\nanother band drew near, numbering nine times nine persons, who were\nthe stewards of the Fomorians coming to demand their tribute. They\nwere men of a fierce and swarthy countenance, and as they came\nhaughtily and arrogantly forward, the Danaans all rose up to do them\nhonour. Then Lugh said:\n\n\"Why do ye rise up before that grim and ill-looking band and not\nbefore us?\"\n\nSaid the King of Erinn, \"We needs must do so, for if they saw but a\nchild of a month old sitting down when they came near they would hold\nit cause enough to attack and slay us.\"\n\n\"I am greatly minded to slay them,\" said Lugh; and he repeated it,\n\"very greatly minded.\"\n\n\"That would be bad for us,\" said the King, \"for our death and\ndestruction would surely follow.\"\n\n\"Ye are too long under oppression,\" said Lugh, and gave the word for\nonset. So he and his comrades rushed upon the Fomorians, and in a\nmoment the hillside rang with blows and with the shouting of warriors.\nIn no long time all of the Fomorians were slain save nine men, and\nthese were taken alive and brought before Lugh.\n\n\"Ye also should be slain,\" said Lugh, \"but that I am minded to send\nyou as ambassadors to your King. Tell him that he may seek homage and\ntribute where he will henceforth, but Ireland will pay him none for\never.\"\n\nThen the Fomorians went northwards away, and the people of Dana made\nthem ready for war, and made Lugh their captain and war-lord, for the\nsight of his face heartened them, and made them strong, and they\nmarvelled that they had endured their slavery so long.\n\nIn the meantime word was brought to Balor of the Mighty Blows, King of\nthe Fomorians, and to his queen Kethlinn of the Twisted Teeth, of the\nshame and destruction that had been done to their stewards, and they\nassembled a great host of the sea-rovers and manned their war-ships,\nand the Northern Sea was white with the foam of their oarblades as\nthey swept down upon the shores of Erinn. And Balor commanded them,\nsaying, \"When ye have utterly destroyed and subdued the people of\nDana, then make fast your ships with cables to the land of Erinn, and\ntow it here to the north of us into the region of ice and snow, and it\nshall trouble us no longer.\" So the host of Balor took land by the\nFalls of Dara[14] and began plundering and devastating the province of\nConnacht.\n\n   [14] Ballysodare = the Town of the Falls of Dara, in Co. Sligo.\n\nThen Lugh sent messengers abroad to bring his host together, and\namong them was his own father, Kian, son of Canta. And as Kian went\nnorthwards on his errand to rouse the Ulster men, and was now come to\nthe plain of Murthemny near by Dundealga,[15] he saw three warriors\narmed and riding across the plain. Now these three were the sons of\nTurenn, by name Brian and Iuchar and Iucharba. And there was an\nancient blood-feud between the house of Canta and the house of Turenn,\nso that they never met without bloodshed.\n\n   [15] Dundalk.\n\nThen Kian thought to himself, \"If my brothers Cu and Kethan were here\nthere might be a pretty fight, but as they are three to one I would do\nbetter to fly.\" Now there was a herd of wild swine near by; and Kian\nchanged himself by druidic sorceries into a wild pig and fell to\nrooting up the earth along with the others.\n\nWhen the sons of Turenn came up to the herd, Brian said, \"Brothers,\ndid ye see the warrior wh' just now was journeying across the plain?\"\n\n\"We saw him,\" said they.\n\n\"What is become of him?\" said Brian.\n\n\"Truly, we cannot tell,\" said the brothers.\n\n\"It is good watch ye keep in time of war!\" said Brian; \"but I know\nwhat has taken him out of our sight, for he struck himself with a\nmagic wand, and changed himself into the form of one of yonder swine,\nand he is rooting the earth among them now. Wherefore,\" said Brian, \"I\ndeem that he is no friend to us.\"\n\n\"If so, we have no help for it,\" said they, \"for the herd belongs to\nsome man of the Danaans; and even if we set to and begin to kill the\nswine, the pig of druidism might be the very one to escape.\"\n\n\"Have ye learned so little in your place of studies,\" said Brian,\n\"that ye cannot distinguish a druidic beast from a natural beast?\" And\nwith that he smote his two brothers with a magic wand, and changed\nthem into two slender, fleet hounds, and they darted in among the\nherd. Then all the herd scattered and fled, but the hounds separated\nthe druidic pig and chased it towards a wood where Brian awaited it.\nAs it passed, Brian flung his spear, and it pierced the chest of the\npig and brought it down. The pig screamed, \"Evil have you done to cast\nat me.\"\n\nBrian said, \"That hath the sound of human speech!\"\n\n\"I am in truth a man,\" said the pig, \"and I am Kian, son of Canta, and\nI pray you show me mercy.\"\n\n\"That will we,\" said Iuchar and Iucharba, \"and sorry are we for what\nhas happened.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Brian, \"but I swear by the Wind and the Sun that if thou\nhadst seven lives I would take them all.\"\n\n\"Grant me a favour then,\" said Kian.\n\n\"We shall grant it,\" said Brian.\n\n\"Let me,\" said Kian, \"return into my own form that I may die in the\nshape of a man.\"\n\n\"I had liefer kill a man than a pig,\" said Brian. Then Kian became a\nman again and stood before them, the blood trickling from his breast.\n\n\"I have outwitted you now,\" cried he, \"for if ye had killed a pig ye\nwould have paid a pig's eric,[16] but now ye shall pay the eric of a\nman. Never was greater eric in the land of Erinn than that which ye\nshall pay; and I swear that the very weapons with which ye slay me\nshall tell the tale to the avenger of blood.\"\n\n   [16] Blood-fine.\n\n\"Then you shall be slain with no weapons at all,\" said Brian; and they\npicked up the stones on the Plain of Murthemny and rained them upon\nhim till he was all one wound, and he died. So they buried him as\ndeep as the height of a man, and went their way to join the host of\nLugh.\n\nWhen the host was assembled, Lugh led them into Connacht and smote the\nFomorians and drove them to their ships, but of this the tale tells\nnot here. But when the fight was done, Lugh asked of his comrades if\nthey had seen his father in the fight and how it fared with him. They\nsaid they had not seen him. Then Lugh made search among the dead, and\nthey found not Kian there. \"Were Kian alive he would be here,\" said\nLugh, \"and I swear by the Wind and the Sun that I will not eat or\ndrink till I know what has befallen him.\"\n\nOn their return the Danaan host passed by the Plain of Murthemny, and\nwhen they came near the place of the murder the stones cried aloud to\nLugh. And Lugh listened, and they told him of the deed of the sons of\nTurenn. Then Lugh searched for the place of a new grave, and when he\nhad found it he caused it to be dug, and the body of his father was\nraised up, and Lugh saw that it was but a litter of wounds. And he\ncried out: \"O wicked and horrible deed!\" and he kissed his father and\nsaid, \"I am sick from this sight, my eyes are blind from it, my ears\nare deaf from it, my heart stands still from it. Ye gods that I adore,\nwhy was I not here when this crime was done? a man of the children of\nDana slain by his fellows.\" And he lamented long and bitterly. Then\nKian was again laid in his grave, and a mound was heaped over it and a\npillar-stone set thereon and his name written in Ogham, and a dirge\nwas sung for him.\n\nAfter that Lugh departed to Tara, to the Court of the High King, and\nhe charged his people to say nothing of what had happened until he\nhimself had made it known.\n\nWhen he reached Tara with his victorious host the King placed Lugh at\nhis own right hand before all the princes and lords of the Danaan\nfolk. Lugh looked round about him, and saw the sons of Turenn sitting\namong the assembly; and they were among the best and strongest and the\nhandsomest of those who were present at that time; nor had any borne\nthemselves better in the fight with the sea-rovers. Then Lugh asked of\nthe King that the chain of silence might be shaken; and the assembly\nheard it, and gave their attention to Lugh. And Lugh said:\n\n\"O King, and ye princes of the People of Dana, I ask what vengeance\nwould each of you exact upon a man who had foully murdered your\nfather?\"\n\nThen they were all astonished, and the King answered and said:\n\n\"Surely it is not the father of Lugh Lamfada who has thus been slain?\"\n\n\"Thou hast said it,\" said Lugh, \"and those who did the deed are\nlistening to me now, and know it better than I.\"\n\nThe King said, \"Not in one day would I slay the murderer of my father,\nbut I would tear from him a limb day by day till he were dead.\"\n\nAnd so spake all the lords of the Danaans, and the Sons of Turenn\namong the rest.\n\n\"They have sentenced themselves, the murderers of my father,\" said\nLugh. \"Nevertheless I shall accept an eric from them, and if they will\npay it, it shall be well; but if not, I shall not break the peace of\nthe King's Assembly and of his sanctuary, but let them beware how they\nleave the Hall Tara until they have made me satisfaction.\"\n\n\"Had I slain your father,\" said the High King, \"glad should I be to\nhave an eric accepted for his blood.\"\n\nThen the Sons of Turenn whispered among themselves. \"It is to us that\nLugh is speaking,\" said Iuchar and Iucharba, \"let us confess and have\nthe eric assessed upon us, for he has got knowledge of our deed.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Brian, \"but he may be seeking for an open confession, and\nthen perchance he would not accept an eric.\"\n\nBut the two brethren said to Brian, \"Do thou confess because thou art\nthe eldest, or if thou do not, then we shall.\"\n\nSo Brian, son of Turenn, rose up and said to Lugh: \"It is to us thou\nhast spoken, Lugh, since thou knowest there is enmity of old time\nbetween our houses; and if thou wilt have it that we have slain thy\nfather, then declare our eric and we shall pay it.\"\n\n\"I will take an eric from you,\" said Lugh, \"and if it seem too great,\nI will remit a portion of it.\"\n\n\"Declare it, then,\" said the Sons of Turenn.\n\n\"This it is,\" said Lugh.\n\n\"Three apples.\n\n\"The skin of a pig.\n\n\"A spear.\n\n\"Two steeds and a chariot.\n\n\"Seven swine.\n\n\"A whelp of a dog.\n\n\"A cooking spit.\n\n\"Three shouts on a hill.\"\n\n\"We would not consider heavy hundreds or thousands of these things,\"\nsaid the Sons of Turenn, \"but we misdoubt thou hast some secret\npurpose against us.\"\n\n\"I deem it no small eric,\" said Lugh, \"and I call to witness the High\nKing and lords of the Danaans that I shall ask no more; and do ye on\nyour side give me guarantees for the fulfilment of it.\"\n\nSo the High King and the lords of the Danaans entered into bonds with\nLugh and with the Sons of Turenn that the eric should be paid and\nshould wipe out the blood of Kian.\n\n\"Now,\" said Lugh, \"it is better for me to give you fuller knowledge of\nthe eric. The three apples that I have demanded of you are the apples\nthat grow in the garden of the Hesperides, in the east of the world,\nand none but these will do. Thus it is with them: they are the colour\nof bright gold, and as large as the head of a month-old child; the\ntaste of them is like honey; if he who eats them has any running sore\nor evil disease it is healed by them; they may be eaten and eaten and\nnever be less. I doubt, O young heroes, if ye will get these apples,\nfor those who guard them know well an ancient prophecy that one day\nthree knights from the western world would come to attempt them.\n\n\"As for the skin of the pig, that is a treasure of Tuish, the King of\nGreece. If it be laid upon a wounded man it will make him whole and\nwell, if only it overtake the breath of life in him. And do ye know\nwhat is the spear that I demanded?\"\n\n\"We do not,\" said they.\n\n\"It is the poisoned spear of Peisear, the King of Persia, and so\nfierce is the spirit of war in it that it must be kept in a pot of\nsoporific herbs or it would fly out raging for death. And do ye know\nwhat are the two horses and the chariot ye must get?\"\n\n\"We do not know,\" said they.\n\n\"The steeds and the chariot belong to Dobar, King of Sicily. They are\nmagic steeds and can go indifferently over land and sea, nor can they\nbe killed by any weapon unless they be torn in pieces and their bones\ncannot be found. And the seven pigs are the swine of Asal, King of the\nGolden Pillars, which may be slain and eaten every night and the next\nmorning they are alive again.\n\n\"And the hound-whelp I asked of you is the whelp of the King of\nIorroway, that can catch and slay any beast in the world; hard it is\nto get possession of that whelp.\n\n\"The cooking spit is one of the spits that the fairy women of the\nIsland of Finchory have in their kitchen.\n\n\"And the hill on which ye must give three shouts is the hill where\ndwells Mochaen in the north of Lochlann. Now Mochaen and his sons have\nit as a sacred ordinance that they permit not any man to raise a shout\nupon their hill. With him it was that my father was trained to arms,\nand if I forgave ye his death, yet would Mochaen not forgive it.\n\n\"And now ye know the eric which ye have to pay for the slaying of\nKian, son of Canta.\"\n\nAstonishment and despair overcame the Sons of Turenn when they learned\nthe meaning of the eric of Lugh, and they went home to tell the\ntidings to their father.\n\n\"This is an evil tale,\" said Turenn; \"I doubt but death and doom shall\ncome from your seeking of that eric, and it is but right they should.\nYet it may be that ye shall obtain the eric if Lugh or Mananan will\nhelp you to it. Go now to Lugh, and ask him for the loan of the fairy\nsteed of Mananan, which was given him to ride over the sea into Erinn.\nHe will refuse you, for he will say that the steed is but lent to him\nand he may not make a loan of a loan. Then ask him for the loan of\nOcean Sweeper, which is the magic boat of Mananan, and that he must\ngive, for it is a sacred ordinance with Lugh not to refuse a second\npetition.\"\n\nSo they went to Lugh, and it all fell out as Turenn had told them, and\nthey went back to Turenn.\n\n\"Ye have done something towards the eric,\" said Turenn, \"but not much.\nYet Lugh would be well pleased that ye brought him whatever might\nserve him when the Fomorians come to the battle again, and well\npleased would he be that ye might get your death in bringing it. Go\nnow, my sons, and blessing and victory be with you.\"\n\nThen the Sons of Turenn went down to the harbour on the Boyne river\nwhere the Boat of Mananan was, and Ethne their sister with them. And\nwhen they reached the place, Ethne broke into lamentations and\nweeping; but Brian said, \"Weep not, dear sister, but let us go forth\ngaily to great deeds. Better a hundred deaths in the quest of honour\nthan to live and die as cowards and sluggards.\" But Ethne said, \"ye\nare banished from Erinn--never was there a sadder deed.\" Then they\nput forth from the river-mouth of the Boyne and soon the fair coasts\nof Erinn faded out of sight. \"And now,\" said they among themselves,\n\"what course shall we steer?\"\n\n[Illustration: \"'Bear us swiftly, Boat of Mananan, to the Garden of\nthe Hesperides'\"]\n\n\"No need to steer the Boat of Mananan,\" said Brian; and he whispered\nto the Boat, \"Bear us swiftly, Boat of Mananan, to the Garden of the\nHesperides\"; and the spirit of the Boat heard him and it leaped\neagerly forward, lifting and dipping over the rollers and throwing up\nan arch of spray each side of its bows wherein sat a rainbow when the\nsun shone upon it; and so in no long time they drew nigh to the coast\nwhere was the far-famed garden of the Golden Apples.\n\n\"And now, how shall we set about the capture of the apples?\" said\nBrian.\n\n\"Draw sword and fight for them,\" said Iuchar and Iucharba, \"and if we\nare the stronger, we shall win them, and if not, we shall fall, as\nfall we surely must ere the eric for Kian be paid.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Brian, \"but whether we live or die, let not men say of us\nthat we went blind and headlong to our tasks, but rather that we made\nthe head help the hand, and that we deserved to win even though we\nlost. Now my counsel is that we approach the garden in the shape of\nthree hawks, strong of wing, and that we hover about until the Wardens\nof the Tree have spent all their darts and javelins in casting at us,\nand then let us swoop down suddenly and bear off each of us an apple\nif we may.\"\n\nSo it was agreed; and Brian struck himself and each of the brothers\nwith a druid wand, and they became three beautiful, fierce, and\nstrong-winged hawks. When the Wardens perceived them, they shouted and\nthrew showers of arrows and darts at them, but the hawks evaded all of\nthese until the missiles were spent, and then seized each an apple in\nhis talons. But Brian seized two, for he took one in his beak as well.\nThen they flew as swiftly as they might to the shore where they had\nleft their boat. Now the King of that garden had three fair daughters,\nto whom the apples and the garden were very dear, and he transformed\nthe maidens into three griffins, who pursued the hawks. And the\ngriffins threw darts of fire, as it were lightning, at the hawks.\n\n\"Brian!\" then cried Iuchar and his brother, \"we are being burnt by\nthese darts--we are lost unless we can escape them.\"\n\nOn this, Brian changed himself and his brethren into three swans, and\nthey plunged into the sea, and the burning darts were quenched. Then\nthe griffins gave over the chase, and the Sons of Turenn made for\ntheir boat, and they embarked with the four apples. Thus their first\nquest was ended.\n\nAfter that they resolved to seek the pigskin from the King of Greece,\nand they debated how they should come before him. \"Let us,\" said\nBrian, \"assume the character and garb of poets and men of learning,\nfor such are wont to come from Ireland and to travel foreign lands,\nand in that character shall the Greeks receive us best, for such men\nhave honour among them.\" \"It is well said,\" replied the brothers, \"yet\nwe have no poems in our heads, and how to compose one we know not.\"\n\nHowbeit they dressed their hair in the fashion of the poets of Erinn,\nand went up to the palace of Tuish the King. The doorkeeper asked of\nthem who they were, and what was their business.\n\n\"We are bards from Ireland,\" they said, \"and we have come with a poem\nto the King.\"\n\n\"Let them be admitted,\" said the King, when the doorkeeper brought him\nthat tale; \"they have doubtless come thus far to seek a powerful\npatron.\"\n\nSo Brian and Iuchar and Iucharba came in and were made welcome, and\nwere entertained, and then the minstrels of the King of Greece chanted\nthe lays of that country before them. After that came the turn of the\nstranger bards, and Brian asked his brethren if they had anything to\nrecite.\n\n\"We have not,\" said they; \"we know but one art--to take what we want\nby the strong hand if we may, and if we may not, to die fighting.\"\n\n\"That is a difficult art too,\" said Brian; \"let us see how we thrive\nwith the poetry.\"\n\nSo he rose up and recited this lay:--\n\n   \"Mighty is thy fame, O King,\n   Towering like a giant oak;\n   For my song I ask no thing\n   Save a pigskin for a cloak.\n\n   \"When a neighbour with his friend\n   Quarrels, they are ear to ear;\n   Who on us their store shall spend\n   Shall be richer than they were.\n\n   \"Armies of the storming wind--\n   Raging seas, the sword's fell stroke--\n   Thou hast nothing to my mind\n   Save thy pigskin for a cloak.\"\n\n\"That is a very good poem,\" said the King, \"but one word of its\nmeaning I do not understand.\"\n\n\"I will interpret it for you,\" said Brian:--\n\n  \"Mighty is thy fame, O King,\n  Towering like a giant oak.\"\n\n\"That is to say, as the oak surpasses all the other trees of the\nforest, so do you surpass all the kings of the world in goodness, in\nnobleness, and in liberality.\n\n  \"A pigskin for a cloak.\"\n\n\"That is the skin of the pig of Tuish which I would fain receive as\nthe reward for my lay.\"\n\n   \"When a neighbour with his friend\n   Quarrels, they are ear to ear.\"\n\n\"That is to signify that you and I shall be about each other's ears\nover the skin, unless you are willing to give it to me. Such is the\nsense of my poem,\" said Brian, son of Turenn.\n\n\"I would praise your poem more,\" said the King, \"if there were not so\nmuch about my pigskin in it. Little sense have you, O man of poetry,\nto make that request of me, for not to all the poets, scholars, and\nlords of the world would I give that skin of my own free will. But\nwhat I will do is this--I will give the full of that skin of red gold\nthrice over in reward for your poem.\"\n\n\"Thanks be to you,\" said Brian, \"for that. I knew that I asked too\nmuch, but I knew also thou wouldst redeem the skin amply and\ngenerously. And now let the gold be duly measured out in it, for\ngreedy am I, and I will not abate an ounce of it.\"\n\nThe servants of the King were then sent with Brian and his brothers to\nthe King's treasure-chamber to measure out the gold. As they did so,\nBrian suddenly snatched the skin from the hands of him who held it,\nand swiftly wrapped it round his body. Then the three brothers drew\nsword and made for the door, and a great fight arose in the King's\npalace. But they hewed and thrust manfully on every side of them, and\nthough sorely wounded they fought their way through and escaped to\nthe shore, and drove their boat out to sea, when the skin of the magic\npig quickly made them whole and sound again. And thus the second quest\nof the Sons of Turenn had its end.\n\n\"Let us now,\" said Brian, \"go to seek the spear of the King of\nPersia.\"\n\n\"In what manner of guise shall we go before the King of Persia?\" said\nhis brothers.\n\n\"As we did before the King of Greece,\" said Brian.\n\n\"That guise served us well with the King of Greece,\" replied they;\n\"nevertheless, O Brian, this business of professing to be poets, when\nwe are but swordsmen, is painful to us.\"\n\nHowever, they dressed their hair in the manner of poets and went up\nboldly to the palace of King Peisear of Persia, saying, as before,\nthat they were wandering bards from Ireland who had a poem to recite\nbefore the King; and as they passed through the courtyard they marked\nthe spear drowsing in its pot of sleepy herbs. They were made welcome,\nand after listening to the lays of the King's minstrel, Brian rose and\nsang:--\n\n   \"'Tis little Peisear cares for spears,\n   Since armies, when his face they see,\n   All overcome with panic fears\n   Without a wound they turn and flee.\n\n   \"The Yew is monarch of the wood,\n   No other tree disputes its claim.\n   The shining shaft in venom stewed\n   Flies fiercely forth to kill and maim.\"\n\n\"'Tis a very good poem,\" said the King, \"but, O bard from Erinn, I do\nnot understand your reference to my spear.\"\n\n\"It is merely this,\" replied Brian, \"that I would like your spear as a\nreward for my poem.\"\n\nThen the King stared at Brian, and his beard bristled with anger, and\nhe said, \"Never was a greater reward paid for any poem than not to\nadjudge you guilty of instant death for your request.\"\n\nThen Brian flung at the king the fourth golden apple which he had\ntaken from the Garden of the Hesperides, and it dashed out his brains.\nImmediately the brothers all drew sword and made for the courtyard.\nHere they seized the magic spear, and with it and with their swords\nthey fought their way clear, not without many wounds, and escaped to\ntheir boat. And thus ended the third quest of the Sons of Turenn.\n\nNow having come safely and victoriously through so many straits and\nperils, they began to be merry and hoped that all the eric might yet\nbe paid. So they sailed away with high hearts to the Island of Sicily,\nto get the two horses and the chariot of the King, and the Boat of\nMananan bore them swiftly and well.\n\nHaving arrived here, they debated among themselves as to how they\nshould proceed; and they agreed to present themselves as Irish\nmercenary soldiers--for such were wont in those days to take service\nwith foreign kings--until they should learn where the horses and the\nchariot were kept, and how they should come at them. Then they went\nforward, and found the King and his lords in the palace garden taking\nthe air.\n\nThe Sons of Turenn then paid homage to him, and he asked them of their\nbusiness.\n\n\"We are Irish mercenary soldiers,\" they said, \"seeking our wages from\nthe kings of the world.\" \"Are ye willing to take service with me?\"\nsaid the King. \"We are,\" said they, \"and to that end are we come.\"\n\nThen their contract of military service was made, and they remained at\nthe King's court for a month and a fortnight, and did not in all that\ntime come to see the steeds or the chariot. At last Brian said,\n\n\"Things are going ill with us, my brethren, in that we know no more at\nthis day of the steeds or of the chariot than when we first arrived at\nthis place.\"\n\n\"What shall we do, then?\" said they.\n\n\"Let us do this,\" said Brian. \"Let us gird on our arms and all our\nmarching array, and tell the King that we shall quit his service\nunless he show us the chariot.\"\n\nAnd so they did; and the King said, \"To-morrow shall be a gathering\nand parade of all my host, and the chariot shall be there, and ye\nshall see it if ye have a mind.\"\n\nSo the next day the steeds were yoked and the chariot was driven round\na great plain before the King and his lords. Now these steeds could\nrun as well on sea as on dry land, and they were swifter than the\nwinds of March. As the chariot came round the second time, Brian and\nhis brothers seized the horses' heads, and Brian took the charioteer\nby the foot and flung him out over the rail, and they all leaped into\nthe chariot and drove away. Such was the swiftness of their driving\nthat they were out of sight ere the King and his men knew rightly\nwhat had befallen. And thus ended the fourth quest of the Sons of\nTurenn.\n\nNext they betook themselves to the court of Asal, King of the Golden\nPillars, to get the seven swine which might be eaten every night and\nthey would be whole and well on the morrow morn.\n\nBut it had now been noised about every country that three young heroes\nfrom Erinn were plundering the kings of the world of their treasures\nin payment of a mighty eric; and when they arrived at the Land of the\nGolden Pillars they found the harbour guarded and a strait watch kept,\nthat no one who might resemble the Sons of Turenn should enter.\n\nBut Asal the King came to the harbour-mouth and spoke with the heroes,\nfor he was desirous to see those who had done the great deeds that he\nhad heard of. He asked them if it were true that they had done such\nthings, and why. Then Brian told him the story of the mighty eric\nwhich had been laid upon them, and what they had done and suffered in\nfulfilling it. \"Why,\" said King Asal, \"have ye now come to my\ncountry?\"\n\n\"For the seven swine,\" said Brian, \"to take them with us as a part of\nthat eric.\"\n\n\"How do you mean to get them?\" asked the King.\n\n\"With your goodwill,\" replied Brian, \"if so it may be, and to pay you\ntherefore with all the wealth we now have, which is thanks and love,\nand to stand by your side hereafter in any strait or quarrel you may\nenter into. But if you will not grant us the swine, and we may not be\nquit of our eric without them, we shall even take them as we may, and\nas we have beforetime taken mighty treasures from mighty kings.\"\n\nThen King Asal went into counsel with his lords, and he advised that\nthe swine be given to the Sons of Turenn, partly for that he was moved\nwith their desperate plight and the hardihood they had shown, and\npartly that they might get them whether or no. To this they all\nagreed, and the Sons of Turenn were invited to come ashore, where they\nwere courteously and hospitably entertained in the King's palace. On\nthe morrow the pigs were given to them, and great was their gladness,\nfor never before had they won a treasure without toil and blood. And\nthey vowed that, if they should live, the name of Asal should be made\nby them a great and shining name, for his compassion and generosity\nwhich he had shown them. This, then, was the fifth quest of the Sons\nof Turenn.\n\n\"And whither do ye voyage now?\" said Asal to them.\n\n\"We go,\" said they, \"to Iorroway for the hound's whelp which is\nthere.\"\n\n\"Take me with you, then,\" said Asal, \"for the King of Iorroway is\nhusband to my daughter, and I may prevail upon him to grant you the\nhound without combat.\"\n\nSo the King's ship was manned and provisioned, and the Sons of Turenn\nlaid up their treasures in the Boat of Mananan, and they all sailed\njoyfully forth to the pleasant kingdom of Iorroway.\n\nBut here, too, they found all the coasts and harbours guarded, and\nentrance was forbidden them. Then Asal declared who he was, and him\nthey allowed to land, and he journeyed to where his son-in-law, the\nKing of Iorroway, was. To him Asal related the whole story of the sons\nof Turenn, and why they were come to that kingdom.\n\n\"Thou wert a fool,\" said the King of Iorroway, \"to have come on such a\nmission. There are no three heroes in the world to whom the Immortals\nhave granted such grace that they should get my hound either by favour\nor by fight.\"\n\n\"That is not a good word,\" said Asal, \"for the treasures they now\npossess have made them yet stronger than they were, and these they won\nin the teeth of kings as strong as thou.\" And much more he said to him\nto persuade him to yield up the hound, but in vain. So Asal took his\nway back to the haven where the Sons of Turenn lay, and told them his\ntidings.\n\nThen the Sons of Turenn seized the magic spear, and the pigskin, and\nwith a rush like that of three eagles descending from a high cliff\nupon a lamb-fold they burst upon the guards of the King of Iorroway.\nFierce and fell was the combat that ensued, and many times the\nbrothers were driven apart, and all but overborne by the throng of\ntheir foes. But at last Brian perceived where the King of Iorroway was\ndirecting the fight, and he cut his way to him, and having smitten him\nto the ground, he bound him and carried him out of the press to the\nhaven-side where Asal was.\n\n\"There,\" he said, \"is your son-in-law for you Asal, and I swear by my\nsword that I had more easily killed him thrice than once to bring him\nthus bound to you.\"\n\n\"That is very like,\" said Asal; \"but now hold him to ransom.\"\n\nSo the people of Iorroway gave the hound to the Sons of Turenn as a\nransom for their King, and the King was released, and friendship and\nalliance were made between them. And with joyful hearts the Sons of\nTurenn bade farewell to the King of Iorroway and to Asal, and departed\non their way. Thus was the sixth of their quests fulfilled.\n\nNow Lugh Lamfada desired to know how the Sons of Turenn had fared, and\nwhether they had got any portion of the great eric that might be\nserviceable to him when the Fomorians should return for one more\nstruggle. And by sorcery and divination it was revealed to him how\nthey had thriven, and that nought remained to be won save the\ncooking-spit of the sea-nymphs, and to give the three shouts upon the\nhill. Lugh then by druidic art caused a spell of oblivion and\nforgetfulness to descend upon the Sons of Turenn, and put into their\nhearts withal a yearning and passion to return to their native land of\nErinn. They forgot, therefore, that a portion of the eric was still to\nwin, and they bade the Boat of Mananan bear them home with their\ntreasures, for they deemed that they should now quit them of all their\ndebt for the blood of Kian and live free in their father's home,\nhaving done such things and won such fame as no three brothers had\never done since the world began.\n\nAt the Brugh of Boyne, where they had started on their quest, their\nboat came ashore again, and as they landed they wept for joy, and\nfalling on their knees they kissed the green sod of Erinn. Then they\ntook up their treasures and journeyed to Ben Edar,[17] where the High\nKing of Ireland, and Lugh with him, were holding an Assembly of the\nPeople of Dana. But when Lugh heard that they were on their way he put\non his cloak of invisibility and withdrew privily to Tara.\n\n   [17] The Hill of Howth.\n\nWhen the brethren arrived at Ben Edar, the High King of the lords of\nthe Danaans gave them welcome and applause, for all were rejoiced that\nthe stain of ancient feud and bloodshed should be wiped out, and that\nthe Children of Dana should be at peace within their borders. Then\nthey sought for Lugh to deliver over the eric, but he was not to be\nfound. And Brian said, \"He has gone to Tara to avoid us, having heard\nthat we were coming with our treasures and weapons of war.\"\n\nWord was then sent to Lugh at Tara that the Sons of Turenn were at Ben\nEdar, and the eric with them.\n\n\"Let them pay it over to the High King,\" said Lugh.\n\nSo it was done; and when Lugh had tidings that the High King had the\neric, he returned to Ben Edar.\n\nThen the eric was laid before him, and Brian said, \"Is the debt paid,\nO Lugh, son of Kian?\"\n\nLugh said, \"Truly there is here the price of any man's death; but it\nis not lawful to give a quittance for an eric that is not complete.\nWhere is the cooking-spit from the Island of Finchory? and have ye\ngiven the three shouts upon the Hill of Mochaen?\"\n\nAt this word Brian and Iuchar and Iucharba fell prone upon the\nground, and were speechless awhile from grief and dismay. After a\nwhile they left the Assembly like broken men, with hanging heads and\nwith heavy steps, and betook themselves to D\u00fan Turenn, where they\nfound their father, and they told him all that had befallen them since\nthey had parted with him and set forth on the Quest. Thus they passed\nthe night in gloom and evil forebodings, and on the morrow they went\ndown once more to the place where the Boat of Mananan was moored. And\nEthne their sister accompanied them, wailing and lamenting, but no\nwords of cheer had they now to say to her, for now they began to\ncomprehend that a mightier and a craftier mind had caught them in the\nnet of fate. And whereas they had deemed themselves heroes and victors\nin the most glorious quest whereof the earth had record, they now knew\nthat they were but as arrows in the hands of a laughing archer, who\nshoots one at a stag and one at the heart of a foe, and one, it may\nbe, in sheer wantonness, and to try his bow, over a cliff edge into\nthe sea.\n\n[Illustration: \"There dwelt the red-haired ocean-nymphs\"]\n\nHowever, they put forth in their magic boat, but in no wise could they\ndirect it to the Isle of Finchory, and a quarter of a year they\ntraversed the seaways and never could get tidings of that island. At\nlast Brian fashioned for himself by magic art a water-dress, with a\nhelmet of crystal, and into the depths of the sea he plunged. Here,\nthe story tells, he searched hither and thither for a fortnight, till\nat last he found that island, which was an island indeed with the sea\nover it and around it and beneath it. There dwelt the red-haired\nocean-nymphs in glittering palaces among the sea-flowers, and they\nwrought fair embroidery with gold and jewels, and sang, as they\nwrought, a fairy music like the chiming of silver bells. Three fifties\nof them sat or played in their great hall as Brian entered, and they\ngazed on him but spoke no word. Then Brian strode to the wide hearth,\nand without a word he seized from it a spit that was made of beaten\ngold, and turned again to go. But at that the laughter of the\nsea-maidens rippled through the hall and one of them said:\n\n\"Thou art a bold man, Brian, and bolder than thou knowest; for if\nthy two brothers were here, the weakest of us could vanquish all the\nthree. Nevertheless, take the spit for thy daring; we had never\ngranted it for thy prayers.\"\n\nSo Brian thanked them and bade farewell, and he rose to the surface of\nthe water. Ere long his brethren perceived him as he shouldered the\nwaves on the bosom of the deep, and they sailed to where he was and\ntook him on board. And thus ended the quest for the seventh portion of\nthe eric of Kian.\n\nAfter that their hopes revived a little, and they set sail for the\nland of Lochlann, in which was the Hill of Mochaen. When they had\narrived at the hill Mochaen came out to meet them with his three sons,\nCorc and Conn and Hugh; nor did the Sons of Turenn ever behold a band\nof grimmer and mightier warriors than those four.\n\n\"What seek ye here?\" asked Mochaen of them They told him that it had\nbeen laid upon them to give three shouts upon the hill.\n\n\"It hath been laid upon me,\" said Mochaen, \"to prevent this thing.\"\n\nThen Brian and Mochaen drew sword and fell furiously upon each other,\nand their fighting was like that of two hungry lions or two wild\nbulls, until at last Brian drove his sword into the throat of Mochaen,\nand he died.\n\nWith that the Sons of Mochaen and the Sons of Turenn rushed fiercely\nupon each other. Long and sore was the strife that they had, and the\nblood that fell made red the grassy place wherein they fought. Not one\nof them but received wounds that pierced him through and through, and\nthat heroes of less hardihood had died of a score of times. But in the\nend the sons of Mochaen fell, and Brian, Iuchar, and Iucharba lay over\nthem in a swoon like death.\n\nAfter a while Brian's senses came back to him, and he said, \"Do ye\nlive, dear brothers, or how is it with you?\" \"We are as good as dead,\"\nsaid they; \"let us be.\"\n\n\"Arise,\" then said Brian, \"for truly I feel death coming swiftly upon\nus, and we have yet to give the three shouts upon the hill.\"\n\n\"We cannot stir,\" said Iuchar and Iucharba. Then Brian rose to his\nknees and to his feet, and he lifted up his two brothers while the\nblood of all three streamed down to their feet, and they raised their\nvoices as best they might, and gave three hoarse cries upon the Hill\nof Mochaen. And thus was the last of the epic fulfilled.\n\nThen they bound up their wounds, and Brian placed himself between the\ntwo brothers, and slowly and painfully they made their way to the\nboat, and put out to sea for Ireland. And as they lay in the stupor of\nfaintness in the boat, one murmured to himself, \"I see the Cape of Ben\nEdar and the coast of Turenn, and Tara of the Kings.\" Then Iuchar and\nIucharba entreated Brian to lift their heads upon his breast. \"Let us\nbut see the land of Erinn again,\" said they, \"the hills around\nTailtin, and the dewy plain of Bregia, and the quiet waters of the\nBoyne and our father's D\u00fan thereby, and healing will come to us; or if\ndeath come we can endure it after that.\" Then Brian raised them up;\nand they saw that they were now near by under Ben Edar; and at the\nStrand of the Bull[18] they took land. They were then conveyed to the\nD\u00fan of Turenn, and life was still in them when they were laid in their\nfather's hall.\n\n   [18] Cluan Tarbh, Clontarf; so called from the roaring of the\n   waves on the strand.\n\nAnd Brian said to Turenn, \"Go now, dear father, with all speed to Lugh\nat Tara. Give him the cooking-spit, and tell how thou hast found us\nafter giving our three shouts upon the Hill of Mochaen. Then beseech\nhim that he yield thee the loan of the pigskin of the King of Greece,\nfor if it be laid upon us while the life is yet in us, we shall\nrecover. We have won the eric, and it may be that he will not pursue\nus to our death.\"\n\nTurenn went to Lugh and gave him the spit of the sea-nymphs, and\nbesought him for the lives of his sons.\n\nLugh was silent for a while, but his countenance did not change, and\nhe said, \"Thou, old man, seest nought but the cloud of sorrow wherein\nthou art encompassed. But I hear from above it the singing of the\nImmortal Ones, who tell to one another the story of this land. Thy\nsons must die; yet have I shown to them more mercy than they showed to\nKian. I have forgiven them; nor shall they live to slay their own\nimmortality, but the royal bards of Erinn and the old men in the\nchimney corners shall tell of their glory and their fate as long as\nthe land shall endure.\"\n\nThen Turenn bowed his white head and went sorrowfully back to D\u00fan\nTurenn; and he told his sons of the words that Lugh had said. And\nwith that the sons of Turenn kissed each other, and the breath of life\ndeparted from them, and they died. And Turenn died also, for his heart\nwas broken in him; and Ethne his daughter buried them in one grave.\nThus, then, ends the tale of the Quest of the Eric and the Fate of the\nSons of Turenn.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nThe Secret of Labra\n\n\nIn very ancient days there was a King in Ireland named Labra, who was\ncalled Labra the Sailor for a certain voyage that he made. Now Labra\nwas never seen save by one man, once a year, without a hood that\ncovered his head and ears. But once a year it was his habit to let his\nhair be cropped, and the person to do this was chosen by lot, for the\nKing was accustomed to put to death instantly the man who had cropped\nhim. And so it happened that on a certain year the lot fell on a young\nman who was the only son of a poor widow, who dwelt near by the palace\nof the King. When she heard that her son had been chosen she fell on\nher knees before the King and besought him, with tears, that her son,\nwho was her only support and all she had in the world, might not\nsuffer death as was customary. The King was moved by her grief and her\nentreaties, and at last he consented that the young man should not be\nslain provided that he vowed to keep secret to the day of his death\nwhat he should see. The youth agreed to this and he vowed by the Sun\nand the Wind that he would never, so long as he lived, reveal to man\nwhat he should learn when he cropped the King's hair.\n\nSo he did what was appointed for him and went home. But when he did so\nhe had no peace for the wonder of the secret that he had learned\npreyed upon his mind so that he could not rest for thinking of it and\nlonging to reveal it, and at last he fell into a wasting sickness from\nit, and was near to die. Then there was brought to see him a wise\ndruid, who was skilled in all maladies of the mind and body, and after\nhe had talked with the youth he said to his mother, \"Thy son is dying\nof the burden of a secret which he may not reveal to any man, but\nuntil he reveals it he will have no ease. Let him, therefore, walk\nalong the high way till he comes to a place where four roads meet. Let\nhim then turn to the right, and the first tree that he shall meet on\nthe roadside let him tell the secret to it, and so it may be he shall\nbe relieved, and his vow will not be broken.\"\n\nThe mother told her son of the druid's advice, and next day he went\nupon his way till he came to four cross roads, and he took the road\nupon the right, and the first tree he found was a great willow-tree.\nSo the young man laid his cheek against the bark, and he whispered the\nsecret to the tree, and as he turned back homeward he felt lightened\nof his burden, and he leaped and sang, and ere many days were past he\nwas as well and light hearted as ever he had been in his life.\n\nSome while after that it happened that the King's harper, namely\nCraftiny, broke the straining-post of his harp and went out to seek\nfor a piece of wood wherewith to mend it. And the first timber he\nfound that would fit the purpose was the willow-tree by the cross\nroads. He cut it down, therefore, and took as much as would give him a\nnew straining-post, and he bore it home with him and mended his harp\nwith it. That night he played after meat before the King and his lords\nas he was wont, but whatever he played and sang the folk that listened\nto him seemed to hear only one thing, \"Two horse's ears hath Labra the\nSailor.\"\n\nThen the King plucked off his hood, and after that he made no secret\nof his ears and none suffered on account of them thenceforward.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nKing Iubdan and King Fergus\n\n\nIt happened on a day when Fergus son of Leda was King of Ulster, that\nIubdan, King of the Leprecauns or Wee Folk, of the land of Faylinn,\nheld a great banquet and assembly of the lords and princes of the Wee\nFolk. And all their captains and men of war came thither, to show\ntheir feats before the King, among whom was the strong man, namely\nGlowar, whose might was such that with his battle-axe he could hew\ndown a thistle at one stroke. Thither also came the King's\nheir-apparent. Tiny, son of Tot, and the Queen Bebo with her maidens;\nand there were also the King's harpers and singing-men, and the chief\npoet of the court, who was called Eisirt.\n\nAll these sat down to the feast in due order and precedence, with Bebo\non the King's right hand and the poet on his left, and Glowar kept the\ndoor. Soon the wine began to flow from the vats of dark-red yew-wood,\nand the carvers carved busily at great haunches of roast hares and\nribs of field-mice; and they all ate and drank, and loudly the hall\nrang with gay talk and laughter, and the drinking of toasts, and\nclashing of silver goblets.\n\nAt last when they had put away desire of eating and drinking, Iubdan\nrose up, having in his hand the royal goblet of gold inlaid with\nprecious many-coloured jewels, and the heir-apparent rose at the other\nend of the table, and they drank prosperity and victory to Faylinn.\nThen Iubdan's heart swelled with pride, and he asked of the company,\n\"Come now, have any of you ever seen a king more glorious and powerful\nthan I am?\" \"Never, in truth,\" cried they all. \"Have ye ever seen a\nstronger man than my giant, Glowar?\" \"Never, O King,\" said they. \"Or\nbattle-steeds and men-at-arms better than mine?\" \"By our words,\" they\ncried, \"we never have.\" \"Truly,\" went on Iubdan, \"I deem that he who\nwould assail our kingdom of Faylinn, and carry away captives and\nhostages from us, would have his work cut out for him, so fierce and\nmighty are our warriors; yea, any one of them hath the stuff of\nkingship in him.\"\n\nOn hearing this, Eisirt, in whom the heady wine and ale had done their\nwork, burst out laughing; and the King turned to him, saying, \"Eisirt,\nwhat hath moved thee to this laughter?\" \"I know a province in Erinn,\"\nreplied Eisirt, \"one man of whom would harry Faylinn in the teeth of\nall four battalions of the Wee Folk.\" \"Seize him,\" cried the King to\nhis attendants; \"Eisirt shall pay dearly in chains and in prison for\nthat scornful speech against our glory.\"\n\nThen Eisirt was put in bonds, and he repented him of his brag; but ere\nthey dragged him away he said, \"Grant me, O mighty King, but three\ndays' respite, that I may travel to Erinn to the court of Fergus mac\nLeda, and if I bring not back some clear token that I have uttered\nnought but the truth, then do with me as thou wilt.\"\n\nSo Iubdan bade them release him, and he fared away to Erinn oversea.\n\n[Illustration: \"They all trooped out, lords and ladies, to view the\nwee man\"]\n\nAfter this, one day, as Fergus and his lords sat at the feast, the\ngatekeeper of the palace of Fergus in Emania heard outside a sound of\nringing; he opened the gate, and there stood a wee man holding in his\nhand a rod of white bronze hung with little silver bells, by which\npoets are wont to procure silence for their recitations. Most noble\nand comely was the little man to look on, though the short grass of\nthe lawn reached as high as to his knee. His hair was twisted in\nfour-ply strands after the manner of poets and he wore a\ngold-embroidered tunic of silk and an ample scarlet cloak with a\nfringe of gold. On his feet he wore shoes of white bronze ornamented\nwith gold, and a silken hood was on his head. The gatekeeper wondered\nat the sight of the wee man, and went to report the matter to King\nFergus. \"Is he less,\" asked Fergus, \"than my dwarf and poet \u00c6da?\"\n\"Verily,\" said the gatekeeper, \"he could stand upon the palm of \u00c6da's\nhand and have room to spare.\" Then with much laughter and wonder they\nall trooped out, lords and ladies, to the great gate to view the wee\nman and to speak with him. But Eisirt, when he saw them, waved them\nback in alarm, crying, \"Avaunt, huge men; bring not your heavy breath\nso near me; but let yon man that is least among you approach me and\nbear me in.\" So the dwarf \u00c6da put Eisirt on his palm and bore him into\nthe banqueting hall.\n\nThen they set him on the table, and Eisirt declared his name and\ncalling. The King ordered that meat and drink should be given him, but\nEisirt said, \"I will neither eat of your meat nor drink of ale.\" \"By\nour word,\" said Fergus, \"'tis a haughty wight; he ought to be dropped\ninto a goblet that he might at least drink all round him.\" The\ncupbearer seized Eisirt and put him into a tankard of ale, and he swam\non the surface of it. \"Ye wise men of Ulster,\" he cried, \"there is\nmuch knowledge and wisdom ye might get from me, yet ye will let me be\ndrowned!\" \"What, then?\" cried they. Then Eisirt, beginning with the\nKing, set out to tell every hidden sin that each man or woman had\ndone, and ere he had gone far they with much laughter and chiding\nfetched him out of the ale-pot and dried him with fair satin napkins.\n\"Now ye have confessed that I know somewhat to the purpose,\" said\nEisirt, \"and I will even eat of your food, but do ye give heed to my\nwords, and do ill no more.\"\n\nFergus then said, \"If thou art a poet, Eisirt, give us now a taste of\nthy delightful art.\" \"That will I,\" said Eisirt, \"and the poem that I\nshall recite to you shall be an ode in praise of my king, Iubdan the\nGreat.\" Then he recited this lay:--\n\n   \"A monarch of might\n   Is Iubdan my king.\n   His brow is snow-white,\n   His hair black as night;\n   As a red copper bowl\n   When smitten will sing,\n   So ringeth the voice\n   Of Iubdan the king.\n   His eyen, they roll\n   Majestic and bland\n   On the lords of his land\n   Arrayed for the fight,\n   A spectacle grand!\n   Like a torrent they rush\n   With a waving of swords\n   And the bridles all ringing\n   And cheeks all aflush,\n   And the battle-steeds springing,\n   A beautiful, terrible, death-dealing band.\n   Like pines, straight and tall,\n   Where Iubdan is king,\n   Are the men one and all.\n   The maidens are fair--\n   Bright gold is their hair.\n   From silver we quaff\n   The dark, heady ale\n   That never shall fail;\n   We love and we laugh.\n   Gold frontlets we wear;\n   And aye through the air\n   Sweet music doth ring--\n   O Fergus, men say\n   That in all Inisfail\n   There is not a maiden so proud or so wise\n   But would give her two eyes\n   Thy kisses to win--\n   But I tell thee, that there\n   Thou canst never compare\n   With the haughty, magnificent King of Faylinn!\"\n\nAt this they all applauded, and Fergus said, \"O youth and blameless\nbard, let us be friends henceforth.\" And they all heaped before him,\nas a poet's reward, gifts of rings and jewels and gold cups and\nweapons, as high as a tall man standing. Then Eisirt said, \"Truly a\ngenerous and a worthy reward have ye given me, O men of Ulster; yet\ntake back these precious things I pray you, for every man in my\nking's household hath an abundance of them.\" But the Ulster lords\nsaid, \"Nothing that we have given may we take back.\" Eisirt then bade\ntwo-thirds of his reward be given to the bards and learned men of\nUlster, and one-third to the horse-boys and jesters; and so it was\ndone.\n\nThree days and nights did Eisirt abide in Emania, and all the King's\ncourt loved him and made much of him. Then he wished them blessing and\nvictory, and prepared to depart to his own country. Now \u00c6da, the\nKing's dwarf and minstrel, begged Eisirt to take him with him on a\nvisit to the land of Faylinn; and Eisirt said, \"I shall not bid thee\ncome, for then if kindness and hospitality be shown thee, thou wilt\nsay it is only what I had undertaken; but if thou come of thine own\nmotion, thou wilt perchance be grateful.\"\n\nSo they went off together; but Eisirt could not keep up with \u00c6da, and\n\u00c6da said, \"I perceive that Eisirt is but a poor walker.\" At this\nEisirt ran off like a flash and was soon an arrow flight in front of\n\u00c6da. When the latter at last came up with him, he said, \"The right\nthing, Eisirt, is not too fast and not too slow.\" \"Since I have been\nin Ulster,\" Eisirt replied, \"I have never before heard ye measure out\nthe right.\"\n\nBy and by they reached the margin of the sea. \"And what are we to do\nnow?\" asked \u00c6da. \"Be not troubled, \u00c6da,\" said Eisirt, \"the horse of\nIubdan will bear us easily over this.\" They waited awhile on the\nbeach, and ere long they saw it coming toward them skimming over the\nsurface of the waves. \"Save and protect us!\" cried \u00c6da at that sight;\nand Eisirt asked him what he saw. \"A red-maned hare,\" answered \u00c6da.\n\"Nay, but that is Iubdan's horse,\" said Eisirt, and with that the\ncreature came prancing to land with flashing eyes and waving tail and\na long russet-coloured mane; a bridle beset with gold it had. Eisirt\nmounted and bade \u00c6da come up behind him. \"Thy boat is little enough\nfor thee alone,\" said \u00c6da. \"Cease fault-finding and grumbling,\" then\nsaid Eisirt, \"for the weight of wisdom that is in thee will not bear\nhim down.\"\n\nSo \u00c6da and Eisirt mounted on the fairy horse and away they sped over\nthe tops of the waves and the deeps of the ocean till at last they\nreached the Kingdom of Faylinn, and there were a great concourse of\nthe Wee Folk awaiting them. \"Eisirt is coming! Eisirt is coming!\"\ncried they all, \"and a Fomorian giant along with him.\"\n\nThen Iubdan went forth to meet Eisirt, and he kissed him, and said,\n\"Why hast thou brought this Fomorian with thee to slay us?\" \"He is no\nFomor,\" said Eisirt, \"but a learned man and a poet from Ulster. He is\nmoreover the King of Ulster's dwarf, and in all that realm he is the\nsmallest man. He can lie in their great men's bosoms and stand upon\ntheir hands as though he were a child; yet for all that you would do\nwell to be careful how you behave to him.\" \"What is his name?\" said\nthey then. \"He is the poet \u00c6da,\" said Eisirt. \"Uch,\" said they, \"what\na giant thou hast brought us!\"\n\n\"And now, O King,\" said Eisirt to Iubdan, \"I challenge thee to go and\nsee for thyself the region from which we have come, and make trial of\nthe royal porridge which is made for Fergus King of Ulster this very\nnight.\"\n\nAt this Iubdan was much dismayed, and he betook himself to Bebo his\nwife and told her how he was laid under bonds of chivalry by Eisirt to\ngo to the land of the giants; and he bade her prepare to accompany\nhim. \"I will go,\" said she, \"but you did an ill deed when you\ncondemned Eisirt to prison.\"\n\nSo they mounted, both of them, on the fairy steed, and in no long time\nthey reached Emania, and it was now past midnight. And they were\ngreatly afraid, and said Bebo, \"Let us search for that porridge and\ntaste it, as we were bound, and make off again ere the folk awake.\"\n\nThey made their way into the palace of Fergus, and soon they found a\ngreat porridge pot, but the rim was too high to be reached from the\nground. \"Get thee up upon thy horse,\" said Bebo, \"and from thence to\nthe rim of this cauldron.\" And thus he did, but having gained the rim\nof the pot his arm was too short to reach the silver ladle that was\nin it. In straining downward to do so, however, he slipped and in he\nfell, and up to his middle in the thick porridge he stuck fast. And\nwhen Bebo heard what a plight he was in, she wept, and said, \"Rash and\nhasty wert thou, Iubdan, to have got into this evil case, but surely\nthere is no man under the sun that can make thee hear reason.\" And he\nsaid, \"Rash indeed it was, but thou canst not help me, Bebo, now, and\nit is but folly to stay; take the horse and flee away ere the day\nbreak.\" \"Say not so,\" replied Bebo, \"for surely I will not go till I\nsee how things fall out with thee.\"\n\n\nAt last the folk in the palace began to be stirring, and ere long they\nfound Iubdan in the porridge pot.\n\nSo they picked him out with great laughter bore him off to Fergus.\n\n\"By my conscience,\" said Fergus, \"but this is not the little fellow\nthat was here before, for he had yellow hair, but this one hath a\nshock of the blackest; who art thou at all, wee man?\"\n\n\"I am of the Wee Folk,\" said Iubdan, \"and am indeed king over them,\nand this woman is my wife and queen, Bebo.\"\n\n\"Take him away,\" then said Fergus to his varlets, \"and guard him\nwell\"; for he misdoubted some mischief of Faery was on foot.\n\n\"Nay, nay,\" cried Iubdan, \"but let me not be with these coarse\nfellows. I pledge thee my word that I will not quit this place till\nthou and Ulster give me leave.\"\n\n\"Could I believe that,\" said Fergus, \"I would not put thee in bonds.\"\n\n\"I have never broken my word,\" said Iubdan, \"and I never will.\"\n\nThen Fergus set him free and allotted him a fair chamber for himself,\nand a trusty servingman to wait upon him. Soon there came in a gillie\nwhose business it was to see to the fires, and he kindled the fire for\nIubdan, throwing on it a woodbine together with divers other sorts of\ntimber. Then Iubdan said, \"Man of smoke, burn not the king of the\ntrees, for it is not meet to burn him. Wouldst thou but take counsel\nfrom me thou mightest go safely by sea or land.\" Iubdan then chanted\nto him the following recital of the duties of his office:--\n\n\"O fire-gillie of Fergus of the Feasts, never by land or sea burn the\nKing of the woods, High King of the forests of Inisfail, whom none may\nbind, but who like a strong monarch holds all the other trees in hard\nbondage. If thou burn the twining one, misfortune will come of it,\nperil at the point of spear, or drowning in the waves.\n\n\"Burn not the sweet apple-tree of drooping branches, of the white\nblossoms, to whose gracious head each man puts forth his hand.\n\n\"The stubborn blackthorn wanders far and wide, the good craftsman\nburns not this timber; little though its bushes be, yet flocks of\nbirds warble in them.\n\n\"Burn not the noble willow, the unfailing ornament of poems; bees\ndrink from its blossoms, all delight in the graceful tent.\n\n\"The delicate, airy tree of the druids, the rowan with its berries,\nthis burn; but avoid the weak tree, burn not the slender hazel.\n\n\"The ash-tree of the black buds burn not--timber that speeds the\nwheel, that yields the rider his switch; the ashen spear is the\nscale-beam of battle.\n\n\"The tangled, bitter bramble, burn him, the sharp and green; he flays\nand cuts the foot; he snares you and drags you back.\n\n\"Hottest of timber is the green oak; he will give you a pain in the\nhead if you use him overmuch, a pain in the eyes will come from his\nbiting fumes.\n\n\"Full-charged with witchcraft is the alder, the hottest tree in the\nfight; burn assuredly both the alder and the whitehorn at your will.\n\n\"Holly, burn it in the green and in the dry; of all trees in the\nworld, holly is absolutely the best.\n\n\"The elder-tree of the rough brown bark, burn him to cinders, the\nsteed of the Fairy Folk.\n\n\"The drooping birch, by all means burn him too, the tree of\nlong-lasting bloom.\n\n\"And lay low, if it pleases you, the russet aspen; late or early, burn\nthe tree with the quaking plumage.\n\n\"The yew is the venerable ancestor of the wood as the companion of\nfeasts he is known; of him make goodly brown vats for ale and wine.\n\n\"Follow my counsel, O man of the smoke, and it shall go well with you,\nbody and soul.\"\n\nSo Iubdan continued in Emania free to go and come as he pleased; and\nall the Ulstermen delighted to watch him and to hear his conversation.\n\nOne day it chanced that he was in the chamber of the Queen, and saw\nher putting on her feet a very dainty and richly embroidered pair of\nshoes. At this Iubdan gave a laugh. \"Why dost thou laugh?\" said\nFergus. \"Meseems the healing is applied very far from the hurt,\"\nreplied Iubdan. \"What meanest thou by that?\" said Fergus. \"Because the\nQueen is making her feet fine in order, O Fergus, that she may attract\nthee to her lips,\" said Iubdan.\n\nAnother time it chanced that Iubdan overheard one of the King's\nsoldiers complaining of a pair of new brogues that had been served out\nto him, and grumbling that the soles were too thin. At this Iubdan\nlaughed again, and being asked why, he said, \"I must need laugh to\nhear yon fellow grumbling about his brogues, for the soles of these\nbrogues, thin as they are, he will never wear out.\" And this was a\ntrue prophecy, for the same night this and another of the King's men\nhad a quarrel, and fought, and killed each the other.\n\nAt last the Wee Folk determined to go in search of their king, and\nseven battalions of them marched upon Emania and encamped upon the\nlawn over against the King's D\u00fan. Fergus and his nobles went out to\nconfer with them. \"Give us back our king,\" said the Wee Folk, \"and we\nshall redeem him with a great ransom.\" \"What ransom, then?\" asked\nFergus. \"We shall,\" said they, \"cause this great plain to stand thick\nwith corn for you every year, and that without ploughing or sowing.\"\n\"I will not give up Iubdan for that,\" said Fergus. \"Then we shall do\nyou a mischief,\" said the Wee Folk.\n\nThat night every calf in the Province of Ulster got access to its dam,\nand in the morn there was no milk to be had for man or child, for the\ncows were sucked dry.\n\nThen said the Wee Folk to Fergus, \"This night, unless we get Iubdan,\nwe shall defile every well and lake and river in Ulster.\" \"That is a\ntrifle,\" said Fergus, \"and ye shall not get Iubdan.\"\n\nThe Wee Folk carried out this threat, and once more they came and\ndemanded Iubdan, saying, \"To-night we shall burn with fire the shaft\nof every mill in Ulster.\" \"Yet not so shall ye get Iubdan,\" said\nFergus.\n\nThis being done, they came again, saying, \"We shall have vengeance\nunless Iubdan be delivered to us.\" \"What vengeance?\" said Fergus. \"We\nshall snip off every ear of corn in thy kingdom,\" said they. \"Even\nso,\" replied Fergus, \"I shall not deliver Iubdan.\"\n\nSo the Wee Folk snipped off every ear of standing corn in Ulster, and\nonce more they returned and demanded Iubdan. \"What will ye do next?\"\nasked Fergus. \"We shall shave the hair of every man and every woman in\nUlster,\" said they, \"so that ye shall be shamed and disgraced for ever\namong the people of Erinn.\" \"By my word,\" said Fergus, \"if ye do that\nI shall slay Iubdan.\"\n\nThen Iubdan said, \"I have a better counsel than that, O King; let me\nhave liberty to go and speak with them, and I shall bid them make good\nwhat mischief they have done, and they shall return home forthwith.\"\n\nFergus granted that; and when the Wee Folk saw Iubdan approaching\nthem, they set up a shout of triumph that a man might have heard a\nbowshot off, for they believed they had prevailed and that Iubdan was\nreleased to them. But Iubdan said, \"My faithful people, you must now\nbegone, and I may not go with you; make good also all the mischief\nthat ye have done, and know that if ye do any more I must die.\"\n\nThen the Wee Folk departed, very downcast and sorrowful, but they did\nas Iubdan had bidden them.\n\nIubdan, however, went to Fergus and said, \"Take, O King, the choicest\nof my treasures, and let me go.\"\n\n\"What is thy choicest treasure?\" said Fergus.\n\nIubdan then began to recite to Fergus the list of his possessions,\nsuch as druidic weapons, and love-charms, and instruments of music\nthat played without touch of human hand, and vats of ale that could\nnever be emptied; and he named among other noble treasures a pair of\nshoes, wearing which a man could go over or under the sea as readily\nas on dry land.\n\nAt the same time \u00c6da, the dwarf and poet of Ulster, returned hale and\nwell from the land of Faylinn, and much did he entertain the King and\nall the court with tales of the smallness of the Wee Folk, and their\nmarvel at his own size, and their bravery and beauty, and their marble\npalaces and matchless minstrelsy.\n\nSo the King, Fergus mac Leda, was well content to take a ransom,\nnamely the magic shoes, which he desired above all the treasures of\nFaylinn, and to let Iubdan go. And he gave him rich gifts, as did also\nthe nobles of Ulster, and wished him blessing and victory; and Iubdan\nhe departed, with Bebo his wife, having first bestowed upon Fergus the\nmagical shoes. And of him the tale hath now no more to say.\n\nBut Fergus never tired of donning the shoes of Iubdan and traversing\nthe secret depths of the lakes and rivers of Ulster. Thereby, too, in\nthe end he got his death, for as the wise say that the gifts of Faery\nmay not be enjoyed without peril by mortal men, so in this case too\nit proved. For, one day as Fergus was exploring the depths of Loch\nRury he met the monster, namely the river-horse, which inhabited that\nlake. Horrible of form it was, swelling and contracting like a\nblacksmith's bellows, and with eyes like torches, and glittering\ntusks, and a mane of coarse hair on its crest and neck. When it saw\nFergus it laid back its ears, and its neck arched like a rainbow over\nhis head, and the vast mouth gaped to devour him. Then Fergus rose\nquickly to the surface and made for the land, and the beast after him,\ndriving before it a huge wave of foam. Barely did he escape with his\nlife; but with the horror of the sight his features were distorted and\nhis mouth was twisted around to the side of his head, so that he was\ncalled Fergus Wry-mouth from that day forth. And the gillie that was\nwith him told the tale of the adventure.\n\nNow there was a law in Ireland that no man might be king who was\ndisfigured by any bodily blemish. His people, therefore, loving\nFergus, kept from him all knowledge of his condition, and the Queen\nlet all mirrors that were in the palace be put away. But one day it\nchanced that a bondmaid was negligent in preparing the bath, and\nFergus being impatient, gave her a stroke with a switch which he had\nin his hand. The maid in anger turned upon him, and cried, \"It would\nbetter become thee to avenge thyself on the riverhorse that hath\ntwisted thy mouth, than to do brave deeds on women.\"\n\nFergus then bade a mirror be fetched, and when he saw his face in it,\nhe said, \"The woman spake truth; the riverhorse of Loch Rury has done\nthis thing.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Fergus goes down into the lake\"]\n\nThe next day Fergus put on the shoes of Iubdan and went forth to Loch\nRury, and with him went the lords of Ulster. And when he reached the\nmargin of the lake he drew his sword and went down into it, and soon\nthe waters covered him.\n\nAfter a while those that watched upon the bank saw a bubbling and a\nmighty commotion in the waters, now here, now there, and waves of\nbloody froth broke at their feet. At last, as they strained their eyes\nupon the tossing water, they saw Fergus rise to his middle from it,\npale and bloody. In his right hand he waved aloft his sword, his left\nwas twisted in the coarse hair of the monster's head, and they saw\nthat his countenance was fair and kingly as of old. \"Ulstermen, I have\nconquered,\" he cried; and as he did so he sank down again, dead with\nhis dead foe, into their red grave in Loch Rury.\n\nAnd the Ulster lords went back to Emania, sorrowful yet proud, for\nthey knew that a seed of honour had been sown that day in their land\nfrom which should spring a breed of high-hearted fighting men for many\na generation to come.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nThe Carving of mac Datho's Boar\n\n\nOnce upon a time there dwelt in the province of Leinster a wealthy\nhospitable lord named Mesroda, son of Datho. Two possessions had he;\nnamely, a hound which could outrun every other hound and every wild\nbeast in Erinn, and a boar which was the finest and greatest in size\nthat man had ever beheld.\n\nNow the fame of this hound was noised all about the land, and many\nwere the princes and lords who longed to possess it. And it came to\npass that Conor, King of Ulster, and Maev, Queen of Connacht, sent\nmessengers to mac Datho to ask him to sell them the hound for a price,\nand both the messengers arrived at the D\u00fan of mac Datho on the same\nday. Said the Connacht messenger, \"We will give thee in exchange for\nthe hound six hundred milch cows, and a chariot with two horses, the\nbest that are to be found in Connacht, and at the end of a year thou\nshalt have as much again.\" And the messenger of King Conor said, \"We\nwill give no less than Connacht, and the friendship and alliance of\nUlster, and that will be better for thee than the friendship of\nConnacht.\"\n\nThen Mesroda mac Datho fell silent, and for three days he would not\neat nor drink, nor could he sleep o' nights, but tossed restlessly on\nhis bed. His wife observed his condition, and said to him, \"Thy fast\nhath been long, Mesroda, though good food is by thee in plenty; and at\nnight thou turnest thy face to the wall, and well I know thou dost not\nsleep. What is the cause of thy trouble?\"\n\n\"There is a saying,\" replied mac Datho, \"'Trust not a thrall with\nmoney, nor a woman with a secret.'\"\n\n\"When should a man talk to a woman,\" said his wife, \"but when\nsomething were amiss? What thy mind cannot solve perchance another's\nmay.\"\n\nThen mac Datho told his wife of the request for his hound both from\nUlster and from Connacht at one and the same time, \"and whichever of\nthem I deny,\" he said, \"they will harry my cattle and slay my people.\"\n\n\"Then hear my counsel,\" said the woman. \"Give it to both of them, and\nbid them come and fetch it; and if there be any harrying to be done,\nlet them even harry each other; but in no way mayest thou keep the\nhound.\"\n\nOn that, mac Datho rose up and shook himself, and called for food and\ndrink, and made merry with himself and his guests. Then he sent\nprivately for the messenger of Queen Maev, and said to him, \"Long have\nI doubted what to do, but now I am resolved to give the hound to\nConnacht. Let ye send for it on such a day with a train of your nobles\nor warriors and bear him forth nobly and proudly, for he is worth it;\nand ye shall all have drink and food and royal entertainment in my\nD\u00fan.\" So the messenger departed, well pleased.\n\nTo the Ulster messenger mac Datho said, \"After much perplexity I have\nresolved to give my hound to Conor. Let the best of the Ulstermen come\nto fetch him, and they shall be welcomed and entertained as is\nfitting.\" And for these he named the same day as he had done for the\nembassy from Connacht.\n\nWhen the appointed day came round, the flower of the fighting men of\ntwo provinces of Ireland were assembled before the D\u00fan of the son of\nDatho, and there were also Conor, King of Ulster, and Ailill, the\nhusband of Maev, Queen of Connacht. Mac Datho went forth to meet them.\n\"Welcome, warriors,\" he said to them, \"albeit for two armies at once\nwe were not prepared.\" Then he bade them into the D\u00fan, and in the\ngreat hall they sat down. Now in this hall there were seven doors, and\nbetween every two doors were benches for fifty men. Not as friends\nbidden to a feast did the men of Ulster and of Connacht look upon one\nanother, since for three hundred years the provinces had ever been at\nwar.\n\n\"Let the great boar be killed,\" said mac Datho, and it was done. For\nseven years had that boar been nourished on the milk of fifty cows;\nyet rather on venom should it have been nourished, such was the\nmischief that was to come from the carving of it.\n\nWhen the boar was roasted it was brought in, and many other kinds of\nfood as side dishes, \"and if more be wanting to the feast,\" said mac\nDatho, \"it shall be slain for you before the morning.\"\n\n\"The boar is good,\" said Conor.\n\n\"It is a fine boar,\" said Ailill; \"and now, O mac Datho, how shall it\nbe divided among us?\"\n\nThere was among the Ulster company one Bricru, son of Carbad, whose\ndelight was in biting speeches and in fomenting strife, though he\nhimself was never known to draw sword in any quarrel. He now spoke\nfrom his couch in answer to Ailill:\n\n\"How should the boar be divided, O son of Datho, except by appointing\nto carve it him who is best in deeds of arms? Here be all the valiant\nmen of Ireland assembled; have none of us hit each other a blow on the\nnose ere now?\"\n\n\"Good,\" said Ailill, \"so let it be done.\"\n\n\"We also agree,\" said Conor; \"there are plenty of our lads in the\nhouse that have many a time gone round the border of the Provinces.\"\n\n\"You will want them to-night, Conor,\" said an old warrior from Conlad\nin the West. \"They have often been seen on their backs on the roads of\nrushy Dedah, and many a fat steer have they left with me.\"\n\n\"It was a fat bullock thou didst have with thee once upon a day,\"\nreplied Moonremar of Ulster, \"even thine own brother, and by the rushy\nroad of Conlad he came and went not back.\"\n\n\"'Twas a better man than he, even Irloth, son of Fergus mac Leda, who\nfell by the hand of Echbael in Tara Luachra,\" replied Lugad of\nMunster.\n\n\"Echbael?\" cried Keltchar, son of Uthecar Hornskin of Ulster. \"Is it\nof him ye boast, whom I myself slew and cut off his head?\"\n\nAnd thus the heroes bandied about the tales and taunts of their\nvictories, until at length Ket, son of Maga of the Connachtmen, arose\nand stood over the boar and took the knife into his hand. \"Now,\" he\ncried, \"let one man in Ulster match his deeds with mine, or else hold\nye your peace and let me carve the boar!\"\n\nFor a while there was silence, and then Conor King of Ulster, said to\nLogary the Triumphant, \"Stay that for me.\" So Logary arose and said,\n\"Ket shall never carve the boar for all of us.\"\n\n\"Not so fast, Logary,\" said Ket. \"It is the custom among you Ulstermen\nthat when a youth first takes arms he comes to prove himself on us. So\ndidst thou, Logary, and we met thee at the border. From that meeting I\nhave thy chariot and horses, and thou hadst a spear through thy ribs\nNot thus wilt thou get the boar from me.\" Then Logary sat down on his\nbench.\n\n\"Ket shall never divide that pig,\" spake then a tall fair-haired\nwarrior from Ulster, coming down the hall. \"Whom have we here?\" asked\nKet. \"A better man than thou,\" shouted the Ulstermen, \"even Angus, son\nof Lama Gabad.\" \"Indeed?\" said Ket, \"and why is his father called Lama\nGabad [wanting a hand]?\" \"We know not,\" said they. \"But I know it,\"\nsaid Ket. \"Once I went on a foray to the East, and was attacked by a\ntroop, Lama Gabad among them. He flung a lance at me. I seized the\nsame lance and flung it back, and it shore off his hand, and it lay\nthere on the field before him. Shall that man's son measure himself\nwith me?\" And Angus went to his bench and sat down.\n\n\"Keep up the contest,\" then cried Ket tauntingly, \"or let me divide\nthe boar.\" \"That thou shalt not,\" cried another Ulster warrior of\ngreat stature. \"And who is this?\" said Ket. \"Owen M\u00f3r, King of Fermag,\"\nsaid the Ulstermen. \"I have seen him ere now,\" said Ket. \"I took a\ndrove of cattle from him before his own house. He put a spear through\nmy shield and I flung it back and it tore out one of his eyes, and\none-eyed he is to this day.\" Then Owen M\u00f3r sat down.\n\n\"Have ye any more to contest the pig with me?\" then said Ket. \"Thou\nhast not won it yet,\" said Moonremar, son of Gerrkind, rising up. \"Is\nthat Moonremar?\" said Ket, \"It is,\" they cried.\n\n\"It is but three days,\" said Ket, \"since I was the last man who won\nrenown of thee. Three heads of thy fighting men did I carry off from\nD\u00fan Moonremar, and one of the three was the head of thy eldest son.\"\nMoonremar then sat down.\n\n\"Still the contest,\" said Ket, \"or I shall carve the boar.\" \"Contest\nthou shalt have,\" said Mend, son of Sword-heel. \"Who is this?\" said\nKet. \"'Tis Mend,\" cried all the Ulstermen.\n\n\"Shall the sons of fellows with nicknames come here to contend with\nme?\" cried Ket. \"I was the priest who christened thy father that name.\n'Twas I who cut the heel off him, so that off he went with only one.\nWhat brings the son of that man to contend with me?\" Mend then sat\ndown in his seat.\n\n\"Come to the contest,\" said Ket, \"or I shall begin to carve.\" Then\narose from the Ulstermen a huge grey and terrible warrior. \"Who is\nthis?\" asked Ket. '\"Tis Keltcar, son of Uthecar,\" cried they all.\n\n\"Wait awhile, Keltcar,\" said Ket, \"do not pound me to pieces just yet.\nOnce, O Keltcar, I made a foray on thee and came in front of D\u00fan. All\nthy folk attacked me, and thou amongst them. In a narrow pass we\nfought, and thou didst fling a spear at me and I at thee, but my spear\nwent through thy loins and thou hast never been the better of it\nsince.\" Then Keltcar sat down in his seat.\n\n\"Who else comes to the contest,\" cried Ket \"or shall I at last divide\nthe pig?\" Up rose then the son of King Conor, named Cuscrid the\nStammerer \"Whom have we here?\" said Ket. \"'Tis Cuscrid son of Conor,\"\ncried they all. \"He has the stuff of a king in him,\" said Ket. \"No\nthanks to thee for that,\" said the youth.\n\n\"Well, then,\" said Ket, \"thou madest thy first foray against us\nConnachtmen, and on the border of the Provinces we met thee. A third\nof thy people, thou didst leave behind thee, and came away with my\nspear through thy throat, so that thou canst not speak rightly ever\nsince, for the sinews of thy throat were severed. And hence is Cuscrid\nthe Stammerer thy byname ever since.\"\n\nSo thus Ket laid shame and defeat on the whole Province of Ulster, nor\nwas there any other warrior in the hall found to contend with him.\n\n[Illustration: \"A mighty shout of exultation arose from the\nUlstermen\"]\n\nThen Ket stood up triumphing, and took the knife in his hand and\nprepared to carve the boar when a noise and trampling were heard at\nthe great door of the hall, and a mighty shout of exultation arose\nfrom the Ulstermen. When the press parted, Ket saw coming up the\ncentre of the hall Conall of the Victories, and Conor the King dashed\nthe helmet from his head and sprang up for joy.\n\n\"Glad we are,\" cried Conall, \"that all is ready for feast; and who is\ncarving the boar for us?\"\n\n\"Ket, son of Maga,\" replied they, \"for none could contest the place of\nhonour with him.\"\n\n\"Is that so, Ket?\" says Conall Cearnach.\n\n\"Even so,\" replied Ket. \"And now welcome to thee, O Conall, thou of\nthe iron heart and fiery blood; keen as the glitter of ice,\never-victorious chieftain; hail mighty son of Finnchoom!\"\n\nAnd Conall said, \"Hail to thee, Ket, flower of heroes, lord of\nchariots, a raging sea in battle; a strong, majestic bull; hail, son\nof Maga!\"\n\n\"And now,\" went on Conall, \"rise up from the boar and give me place.\"\n\n\"Why so?\" replied Ket.\n\n\"Dost thou seek a contest from me?\" said Conall; \"verily thou shalt\nhave it. By the gods of my nation I swear that since I first took\nweapons in my hand I have never passed one day that I did not slay a\nConnachtman, nor one night that I did not make a foray on them, nor\nhave I ever slept but I had the head of a Connachtman under my knee.\"\n\n\"I confess,\" then, said Ket, \"that thou art a better man than I, and I\nyield thee the boar. But if Anluan my brother were here, he would\nmatch thee deed for deed, and sorrow and shame it is that he is not.\"\n\n\n\"Anluan is here,\" shouted Conall, and with that he drew from his\ngirdle the head of Anluan and dashed it in the face of Ket.\n\nThen all sprang to their feet and a wild shouting and tumult arose,\nand the swords flew out of themselves, and battle raged in the hall of\nmac Datho. Soon the hosts burst out through the doors of the D\u00fan and\nsmote and slew each other in the open field, until the Connacht host\nwere put to flight. The hound of mac Datho pursued them along with the\nUlstermen, and it came up with the chariot in which King Ailill was\ndriving, and seized the pole of the chariot, but the charioteer dealt\nit a blow that cut off its head. When Ailill drew rein they found the\nhound's head still clinging to the pole, whence that place is called\nIbar Cinn Chon, or the Yew Tree of the Hound's Head.\n\nNow when Conor pursued hard upon King Ailill, Ferloga, the charioteer\nof Ailill, lighted down and hid himself in the heather; and as Conor\ndrove past, Ferloga leaped up behind him in the chariot and gripped\nhim by the throat.\n\n\"What will thou have of me?\" said Conor.\n\n\"Give over the pursuit,\" said Ferloga, \"and take me with thee to\nEmania,[19] and let the maidens of Emania so long as I am there sing\na serenade before my dwelling every night.\"\n\n   [19] The ancient royal residence of Ulster, near to the present\n   town of Armagh.\n\n\"Granted,\" said Conor. So he took Ferloga with him to Emania, and at\nthe end of a year sent him back to Connacht, escorting him as far as\nto Athlone; and Ferloga had from the King of Ulster two noble horses\nwith golden bridles, but the serenade from the maidens of Ulster he\ndid not get, though he got the horses instead. And thus ends the tale\nof the contention between Ulster and Connacht over the Carving of mac\nDatho's Boar.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nThe Vengeance of Mesgedra\n\n\nAtharna the Bard, surnamed the Extortionate, was the chief poet and\nsatirist of Ulster in the reign of Conor mac Nessa. Greed and\narrogance were in his heart and poison on his tongue, and the kings\nand lords of whom he asked rewards for his poems dared not refuse him\naught, partly because of the poisonous satires and lampoons which he\nwould otherwise make upon them for their niggardliness, and partly for\nthat in Ireland at that day it was deemed shameful to refuse to a bard\nwhatsoever he might ask. Once it was said that he asked of a sub-king,\nnamely Eochy mac Luchta, who was famed for hospitality and generosity,\nthe single thing that Eochy would have been grieved to give, namely\nhis eye, and Eochy had but one eye. But the King plucked it out by the\nroots and gave it to him; and Atharna went away disappointed, for he\nhad looked that Eochy would ransom his eye at a great price.\n\nNow Conor mac Nessa, King of Ulster, and all the Ulster lords, having\ngrown very powerful and haughty, became ill neighbours to all the\nother kingdoms in Ireland. On fertile Leinster above all they fixed\ntheir eyes, and sought for an opportunity to attack and plunder the\nprovince. Conor resolved at last to move Atharna to go to the King of\nLeinster, in the hope that he himself might be rid of Atharna, by the\nKing of Leinster killing him for his insolence and his exactions, and\nthat he might avenge the death of his bard by the invasion of\nLeinster.\n\nAtharna therefore set out for Leinster accompanied by his train of\npoets and harpers and gillies and arrived at the great D\u00fan of Mesgedra\nthe King, at Naas in Kildare. Here he dwelt for twelve months wasting\nthe substance of the Leinstermen and in the end when he was minded to\nreturn to Ulster he went before the King Mesgedra and the lords of\nLeinster and demanded his poet's fee.\n\n\"What is thy demand, Atharna?\" asked Mesgedra.\n\n\"So many cattle and so many sheep,\" answered Atharna, \"and store of\ngold and raiment, and of the fairest dames and maidens of Leinster\nforty-five, to grind at my querns in D\u00fan Atharna.\"\n\n\"It shall be granted thee,\" said the King. Then Atharna feared some\nmischief, for the King and the nobles of Leinster had not seemed like\nmen on whom shameful conditions are laid, nor had they offered to\nransom their women. Atharna therefore judged that the Leinstermen\nmight fall upon him to recover their booty when he was once beyond the\nborder, for within their own borders they might not affront a guest.\nHe sent, therefore, a swift messenger to Conor mac Nessa, bidding him\ncome with a strong escort as quickly as he might, to meet Atharna's\nband on the marches of Leinster, and convey him safely home.\n\nAtharna then departed from Naas with a great herd of sheep and cattle\nand other spoils, and with thrice fifteen of the noble women of\nLeinster. He went leisurely, meaning to strike the highroad to Emania\nfrom Dublin; but when he came thither the Liffey was swollen with\nrain, and the ford at Dublin might not be crossed. He caused,\ntherefore, many great hurdles to be made, and these were set in the\nriver, and over them a causeway of boughs was laid, so that his\ncattle and spoils came safely across. Hence is the town of that place\ncalled to this day in Gaelic the City of the Hurdle Ford.\n\nOn the next day Conor and the Ulstermen met him, but a great force of\nthe men of Leinster was also marching from Naas to the border, to\nrecover their womenfolk, even as Atharna had expected. The Leinstermen\nthen broke the battle on the company from Ulster, and defeated them,\ndriving them with the cows of Atharna on to the sea cape of Ben Edar\n(Howth), but they recovered the women. On Ben Edar did King Conor with\nthe remnant of his troop then fortify themselves, making a great fosse\nacross the neck of land by which Ben Edar is joined to the mainland,\nand here they were besieged, with hard fighting by day and night,\nexpecting that help should come to them from Ulster, whither they had\nsent messengers to tell of their distress.\n\nNow Conall of the Victories was left behind to rule in Emania when\nConor set forth to Leinster, and he now, on hearing how the King was\nbeset, assembled a great host and marched down to Ben Edar. Here he\nattacked the host of Leinster, and a great battle was fought, many\nbeing slain on both sides, and the King of Leinster, Mesgedra, lost\nhis left hand in the fight. In the end the men of Leinster were\nrouted, and fled, and Mesgedra drove in his chariot past the City of\nthe Hurdle Ford and Naas to the fords of Liffey at Clane. Here there\nwas a sacred oak tree where druid rites and worship were performed,\nand that oak tree was sanctuary, so that within its shadow, guarded by\nmighty spells, no man might be slain by his enemy.\n\nNow Conall Cearnach had followed hard on the track of Mesgedra, and\nwhen he found him beneath the oak, he drove his chariot round and\nround the circuit of the sanctuary, bidding Mesgedra come forth and do\nbattle with him, or be counted a dastard among the kings of Erinn. But\nMesgedra said, \"Is it the fashion of the champions of Ulster to\nchallenge one-armed men to battle?\"\n\nThen Conall let his charioteer bind one of his arms to his side, and\nagain he taunted Mesgedra and bade him come forth.\n\nMesgedra then drew sword, and between him and Conall there was a\nfierce fight until the Liffey was reddened with their blood. At last,\nby a chance blow of the sword of Mesgedra, the bonds of Conall's left\narm were severed.\n\n\"On thy head be it,\" said Conall, \"if thou release me again.\"\n\nThen he caused his arm to be bound up once more, and again they met,\nsword to sword, and again in the fury of the fight Mesgedra cut the\nthongs that bound Conall's arm. \"The gods themselves have doomed\nthee,\" shouted Conall then, and he rushed upon Mesgedra and in no\nlong time he wounded him to death.\n\n\"Take my head,\" said Mesgedra then, \"and add my glory to thy glory,\nbut be well assured this wrong shall yet be avenged by me upon\nUlster,\" and he died.\n\nThen Conall cut off the head of Mesgedra and put it in his chariot,\nand took also the chariot of Mesgedra and fared northwards. Ere long\nhe met a chariot and fifty women accompanying it. In it was Buan the\nQueen, wife of Mesgedra, returning from a visit to Meath.\n\n\"Who art thou, woman?\" said Conall.\n\n\"I am Buan, wife of Mesgedra the King.\"\n\n\"Thou art to come with me,\" then said Conall.\n\n\"Who hath commanded this?\" said Buan.\n\n\"Mesgedra the King,\" said Conall.\n\n\"By what token dost thou lay these commands upon me?\"\n\n\"Behold his chariot and his horses,\" said Conall.\n\n\"He gives rich gifts to many a man,\" answered the Queen.\n\nThen Conall showed her the head of her husband.\n\n\"This is my token,\" said he.\n\n\"It is enough,\" said Buan. \"But give me leave to bewail him ere I go\ninto captivity.\"\n\nThen Buan rose up in her chariot and raised for Mesgedra a keen of\nsorrow so loud and piercing that her heart broke with it, and she fell\nbackwards on the road and died.\n\nConall Cearnach then buried her there, and laid the head of her\nhusband by her side; and the fair hazel tree that grew from her grave\nby the fords of Clane was called Coll Buana, or the Hazel Tree of\nBuan.\n\nBut ere Conall buried the head of Mesgedra he caused the brain to be\ntaken out and mixed with lime to make a bullet for a sling, for so it\nwas customary to do when a great warrior had been killed; and the\nbrain-balls thus made were accounted to be the deadliest of missiles.\n\n\nSo when Leinster had been harried and plundered and its king and queen\nthus slain, the Ulstermen drew northward again, and the brain-ball was\nlaid up in the D\u00fan of King Conor at Emania.\n\nYears afterwards it happened that the Wolf of Connacht, namely Ket,\nson of Maga, came disguised within the borders of Ulster in search of\nprey, and he entered the palace precincts of Conor in Emania. There he\nsaw two jesters of the King, who had gotten the brain-ball from the\nshelf where it lay, and were rolling it about the courtyard. Ket knew\nit for what it was, and put it out of sight of the jesters and took it\naway with him while they made search for it. Thenceforth Ket carried\nit ever about with him in his girdle, hoping that he might yet use it\nto destroy some great warrior among the Ulstermen.\n\nOne day thereafter Ket made a foray on the men of Ross, and carried\naway a spoil of cattle. The host of Ulster and King Conor with them\novertook him as he went homeward. The men of Connacht had also\nmustered to the help of Ket, and both sides made them ready for\nbattle.\n\nNow a river, namely Brosna, ran between them, and on a hill at one\nside of this were assembled a number of the noble women of Connacht,\nwho desired greatly to look on the far-famed Ultonian warriors, and\nabove all on Conor the King, whose presence was said to be royal and\nstately beyond any man that was then living in Erinn. Among the\nbushes, close to the women, Ket hid himself, and lay still but\nwatchful.\n\nNow Conor, seeing none but womenfolk close to him at this point, and\nbeing willing to show them his splendour, drew near to the bank on his\nside of the stream. Then Ket leaped up, whirling his sling, and the\nbullet hummed across the river and smote King Conor on the temple. And\nhis men carried him off for dead, and the men of Connacht broke the\nbattle on the Ulstermen, slaying many, and driving the rest of them\nback to their own place. This battle was thenceforth called the Battle\nof the Ford of the Sling-cast, or Athnurchar; and so the place is\ncalled to this day.\n\nWhen Conor was brought home to Emania his chief physician, Fingen,\nfound the ball half buried in his temple. \"If the ball be taken out,\"\nsaid Fingen, \"he will die; if it remain he will live, but he will bear\nthe blemish of it.\"\n\n\"Let him bear the blemish,\" said the Ulster lords, \"that is a small\nmatter compared with the death of Conor.\"\n\nThen Fingen stitched the wound over with a thread of gold, for Conor\nhad curling golden hair, and bade him keep himself from all violent\nmovements and from all vehement passions, and not to ride on\nhorseback, and he would do well.\n\nAfter that Conor lived for seven years, and he went not to war during\nthat time, and all cause of passion was kept far from him. Then one\nday at broad noon the sky darkened, and the gloom of night seemed to\nspread over the world, and all the people feared, and looked for some\ncalamity. Conor called to him his chief druid, namely Bacarach, and\ninquired of him as to the cause of the gloom.\n\nThe druid then went with Conor into a sacred grove of oaks and\nperformed the rites of divination, and in a trance he spoke to Conor,\nsaying, \"I see a hill near a great city, and three high crosses on it.\nTo one of them is nailed the form of a young man who is like unto one\nof the Immortals. Round him stand soldiers with tall spears, and a\ngreat crowd waiting to see him die.\"\n\n\"Is he, then, a malefactor?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the druid, \"but holiness, innocence, and truth have come\nto earth in him, and for this cause have the druids of his land doomed\nhim to die, for his teaching was not as theirs. And the heavens are\ndarkened for wrath and sorrow at the sight.\"\n\nThen Conor leaped up in a fury, crying, \"They shall not slay him,\nthey shall not slay him! Would I were there with the host of Ulster,\nand thus would I scatter his foes\"; and with that he snatched his\nsword and began striking at the trees that stood thickly about him in\nthe druid grove. Then with the heat of his passion the sling-ball\nburst from his head, and he fell to the ground and died.\n\nThus was fulfilled the vengeance of Mesgedra upon Conor mac Nessa,\nKing of Ulster.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nThe Story of Etain and Midir\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a High King of the Milesian race in Ireland\nnamed Eochy Airem, whose power and splendour were very great, and all\nthe sub-Kings, namely, Conor of Ulster, and Mesgedra of Leinster, and\nCuroi of Munster, and Ailill and Maev of Connacht, were obedient to\nhim. But he was without a wife; and for this reason the sub-Kings and\nPrinces of Ireland would not come to his festivals at Tara, \"for,\"\nsaid they, \"there is no noble in Ireland who is a wifeless man, and a\nKing is no king without a queen.\" And they would not bring their own\nwives to Tara without a queen there to welcome them, nor would they\ncome themselves and leave their womenfolk at home.\n\nSo Eochy bade search be made through all the boundaries of Ireland for\na maiden meet to be wife of the High King. And in time his messengers\ncame back and said that they had found in Ulster, by the Bay of\nCichmany, the fairest and most accomplished maiden in Ireland, and her\nname was Etain, daughter of Etar, lord of the territory called Echrad.\nSo Eochy, when he had heard their report, went forth to woo the\nmaiden.\n\nWhen he drew near his journey's end he passed by a certain spring of\npure water where it chanced that Etain and her maids had come down\nthat she might wash her hair. She held in her hand a comb of silver\ninlaid with gold, and before her was a bason of silver chased with\nfigures of birds, and around the rim of it red carbuncles were set.\nHer mantle was purple with a fringe of silver, and it was fastened\nwith a broad golden brooch. She wore also a tunic of green silk, stiff\nwith embroidery of gold that glittered in the sun. Her hair before she\nloosed it was done in two mighty tresses, yellow like the flower of\nthe waterflag, each tress being plaited in four strands, and at the\nend of each strand a little golden ball. When she laid aside her\nmantle her arms came through the armholes of her tunic, white as the\nsnow of a single night, and her cheeks were ruddy as the foxglove.\nEven and small were her teeth, as if a shower of pearls had fallen in\nher mouth. Her eyes were hyacinth-blue, her lips scarlet as the\nrowan-berry, her shoulders round and white, her fingers were long and\nher nails smooth and pink. Her feet also were slim, and white as\nsea-foam. The radiance of the moon was in her face, pride in her\nbrows, the light of wooing in her eyes. Of her it was said that there\nwas no beauty among women compared with Etain's beauty, no sweetness\ncompared with the sweetness of Etain.\n\nWhen the King saw her his heart burned with love for her, and when he\nhad speech with her he besought her to be his bride. And she consented\nto that, and said, \"Many have wooed me, O King, but I would none of\nthem, for since I was a little child I have loved thee, for the high\ntales that I heard of thee and of thy glory.\" And Eochy said, \"Thine\nalone will I be if thou wilt have me.\" So the King paid a great\nbride-price for her, and bore her away to Tara, and there they were\nwedded, and all men welcomed and honoured the Queen. Nor had she dwelt\nlong in Tara before the enchantment of her beauty and her grace had\nworked upon the hearts of all about her, so that the man to whom she\nspoke grew pale at the womanly sweetness of her voice, and felt\nhimself a king for that day. All fair things and bright she loved,\nsuch as racing steeds and shining raiment, and the sight of Eochy's\nwarriors with their silken banners and shields decorated with rich\nornament in red and blue. And she would have all about her happy and\njoyous, and she gave freely of her treasure, and of her smiles and\nloving words, if she might see the light of joy on the faces of men,\nbut from pain or sadness that might not be cured she would turn away.\nIn one thing only was sadness endurable to her and that was in her\nmusic, for when she sang or touched the harp all hearts were pierced\nwith longing for they knew not what, and all eyes shed tears save hers\nalone, who looked as though she beheld, far from earth, some land more\nfair than words of man can tell; and all the wonder of that land and\nall its immeasurable distance were in her song.\n\nNow Eochy the King had a brother whose name was Ailill Anglounach, or\nAilill of the Single Stain, for one dark spot only was on his life,\nand it is of this that the story now shall tell. One day, when he had\ncome from his own D\u00fan to the yearly Assembly in the great Hall of\nTara, he ate not at the banquet but gazed as it were at something afar\noff, and his wife said to him, \"Why dost thou gaze so, Ailill; so do\nmen look who are smitten with love?\" Ailill was wroth with himself and\nturned his eyes away, but he said nothing, for that on which he gazed\nwas the face of Etain.\n\nAfter that Assembly was over Ailill knew that the torment of love had\nseized him for his brother's wife, and he was sorely shamed and\nwrathful, and the secret strife in his mind between his honour and the\nfierce and pitiless love that possessed him brought him into a sore\nsickness. And he went home to his D\u00fan in Tethba and there lay ill for\na year. Then Eochy the King went to see him, and came near him and\nlaid his hand on his breast, and Ailill heaved a bitter sigh. Eochy\nasked, \"Why art thou not better of this sickness, how goes it with\nthee now?\" \"By my word,\" said Ailill, \"no better, but worse each day\nand night.\" \"What ails thee, then?\" asked Eochy. Ailill said, \"Verily,\nI know not.\" Then Eochy bade summon his chief physician, who might\ndiscover the cause of his brother's malady, for Ailill was wasting to\ndeath.\n\nSo Fachtna the chief physician came and he laid his hand upon Ailill,\nand Ailill sighed. Then Fachtna said, \"This is no bodily disease, but\neither Ailill suffers from the pangs of envy or from the torment of\nlove.\" But Ailill was full of shame and he would not tell what ailed\nhim, and Fachtna went away.\n\nAfter this the time came that Eochy the High King should make a royal\nprogress throughout his realm of Ireland, but Etain he left behind at\nTara. Before he departed he charged her saying, \"Do thou be gentle and\nkind to my brother Ailill while he lives, and should he die, let his\nburial mound be heaped over him, and a pillar stone set up above it,\nand his name written thereon in letters of Ogham.\" Then the King took\nleave of Ailill and looked to see him again on earth no more.\n\nAfter a while Etain bethought her and said, \"Let us go to see how it\nfares with Ailill.\" So she went to where he lay in his D\u00fan at Tethba.\nAnd seeing him wasted and pale she was moved with pity and distress\nand said,\n\n\"What ails thee, young man? Long thou hast lain prostrate, in fair\nweather and in foul, thou who wert wont to be so swift and strong?\"\n\nAnd Ailill said,\n\n\"Truly, I have a cause for my suffering; and I cannot eat, nor listen\nto the music makers; my affliction is very sore.\"\n\nThen said Etain,\n\n\"Though I am a woman I am wise in many a thing; tell me what ails thee\nand thy healing shall be done.\"\n\nAilill replied,\n\n\"Blessing be with thee, O fair one; I am not worthy of thy speech; I\nam torn by the contention of body and of soul.\"\n\nThen Etain deemed that she knew somewhat of his trouble, and she said,\n\n\n\"If thy heart is set on any of the white maidens that are my\nhandmaids, tell me of it, and I shall court her for thee and she shall\ncome to thee,\" and then Ailill cried out,\n\n\"Love indeed, O Queen, hath brought me low. It is a plague nearer than\nthe skin, it overwhelms my soul as an earthquake, it is farther than\nthe height of the sky, and harder to win than the treasures of the\nFairy Folk. If I contend with it, it is like a combat with a spectre;\nif I fly to the ends of the earth from it, it is there; if I seek to\nseize it, it is a passion for an echo. It is thou, O my love, who hast\nbrought me to this, and thou alone canst heal me, or I shall never\nrise again.\"\n\nThen Etain went away and left him. But still in her palace in Tara she\nwas haunted by his passion and his misery, and, though she loved him\nnot, she could not endure his pain, nor the triumph of grim death over\nhis youth and beauty. So at last she went to him again and said, \"If\nit lies with me, Ailill, to heal thee of thy sickness, I may not let\nthee die.\" And she made a tryst to meet him on the morrow at a house\nof Ailill's between D\u00fan Tethba and Tara, \"but be it not at Tara,\" she\nsaid, \"for that is the palace of the High King.\"\n\nAll that night Ailill lay awake with the thought of his tryst with\nEtain. But on the morrow morn a heaviness came upon his eyelids, and a\ndruid sleep overcame him, and there all day he lay buried in slumbers\nfrom which none could wake him, until the time of his meeting with\nEtain was overpast.\n\nBut Etain, when she had come to the place of the tryst, looked out,\nand behold, a youth having the appearance and the garb of Ailill was\napproaching from Tethba. He entered the bower where she was; but no\nlover did she there meet, but only a sick and sorrowful man who spake\ncoldly to her and lamented the sufferings of his malady, and after a\nshort time he went away.\n\nNext day Etain went to see Ailill and to hear how he did. And Ailill\nentreated her forgiveness that he had not kept his tryst, \"for,\" said\nhe, \"a druid slumber descended upon me, and I lay as one dead from\nmorn till eve. And morever,\" he added, \"it seems as if the strange\npassion that has befallen me were washed away in that slumber, for\nnow, Etain, I love thee no more but as my Queen and my sister, and I\nam recovered as if from an evil dream.\" Then Etain knew that powers\nnot of earth were mingling in her fate, and she pondered much of these\nthings, and grew less lighthearted than of old. And when the King came\nback, he rejoiced to find his brother whole and sound and merry, as\nAilill had ever been, and he praised Etain for her gentleness and\ncare.\n\nNow after a time as Etain was by herself in her sunny bower she was\naware of a man standing by her, whom she had never seen before. Young\nhe was, and grey-eyed, with curling golden hair, and in his hand he\nbore two spears. His mantle was of crimson silk, his tunic of saffron,\nand a golden helmet was on his head. And as she gazed upon him,\n\"Etain,\" he said, \"the time is come for thee to return; we have missed\nthee and sorrowed for thee long enough in the Land of Youth.\" Etain\nsaid, \"Of what land dost thou speak?\" Then he chanted to her a song:--\n\n  \"Come with me, Etain, O come away,\n     To that oversea land of mine!\n   Where music haunts the happy day,\n     And rivers run with wine;\n   Where folk are careless, and young, and gay,\n     And none saith 'mine' or 'thine.'\n\n   \"Golden curls on the proud young head,\n     And pearls in the tender mouth;\n   Manhood, womanhood, white and red,\n     And love that grows not loth\n   When all the world's desires are dead,\n     And all the dreams of youth.\n\n   \"Away from the cloud of Adam's sin!\n     Away from grief and care!\n   This flowery land thou dwellest in\n     Seems rude to us, and bare;\n   For the naked strand of the Happy Land\n     Is twenty times as fair.\"\n\nWhen Etain heard this she stood motionless and as one that dreams\nawake, for it seemed to her as if she must follow that music\nwhithersoever it went on earth or beyond the earth. But at last\nremembrance came upon her and she said to the stranger, \"Who art thou,\nthat I, the High King's wife, should follow a nameless man and betray\nmy troth?\" And he said, \"Thy troth was due to me before it was due to\nhim, and, moreover, were it not for me thou hadst broken it already. I\nam Midir the Proud, a prince among the people of Dana, and thy\nhusband, Etain. Thus it was, that when I took thee to wife in the Land\nof Youth, the jealousy of thy rival, Fuamnach, was awakened; and\nhaving decoyed me from home by a false report, she changed thee by\nmagical arts into a butterfly, and then contrived a mighty tempest\nthat drove thee abroad. Seven years wast thou borne hither and thither\non the blast till chance blew thee into the fairy palace of Angus my\nkinsman, by the waters of the Boyne. But Angus knew thee, for the\nFairy Folk may not disguise themselves from each other, and he built\nfor thee a magical sunny bower with open windows, through which thou\nmightest pass, and about it were all manner of blossoming herbs and\nshrubs, and on the odour and honey of these thou didst live and grow\nfair and well nourished. But in the end Fuamnach got tidings of thee,\nand again the druid tempest descended and blew thee forth for another\nseven years of wandering and woe. Then it chanced that thou wert blown\nthrough the roof-window of the D\u00fan of Etar by the Bay of Cichmany, and\nfell into the goblet from which his wife was drinking, and thee she\ndrank down with that draught of ale. And in due time thou wast born\nagain in the guise of a mortal maid and daughter to Etar the Warrior.\nBut thou art no mortal, nor of mortal kin, for it is one thousand and\ntwelve years from the time when thou wast born in Fairy Land till\nEtar's wife bore thee as a child on earth.\"\n\nThen Etain was bewildered, and her mind ran back on many a\nhalf-forgotten thing and she gazed as into a gulf of visions, full of\ndim shapes, strange and glorious. And Midir as she looked at him again\nseemed transfigured, taller and mightier than before, and a light\nflame flickered from his helmet's crest and moved like wings about his\nshoulders.\n\nBut at last she said, \"I know not what thou sayest if it be truth or\nnot, but this I know, that I am the wife of the High King and I will\nnot break my troth.\" \"It were broken already,\" said Midir, \"but for\nme, for I it was who laid a druidic sleep on Ailill, and it was I who\ncame to thee in his shape that thy honour might not be stained.\" Etain\nsaid, \"I learned then that honour is more than life.\" \"But if Eochy\nthe High King consent to let thee go,\" said Midir, \"wilt thou then\ncome with me to my land and thine?\" \"In that case,\" said Etain \"I\nwill go.\"\n\nAnd the time went by, and Etain abode in Tara, and the High King did\njustice and made war and held the great Assembly as he was used. But\none day in summer Eochy arose very early to breathe the morning air,\nand he stood by himself leaning on the rampart of his great D\u00fan, and\nlooking over the flowery plain of Bregia. And as he thus gazed he was\naware of a young warrior standing by his side. Grey-eyed the youth\nwas, and golden-haired, and he was splendidly armed and apparelled as\nbeseemed the lord of a great clan of the Gael. Eochy bade him welcome\ncourteously, and asked him of the cause of his coming. \"I am come,\" he\nsaid, \"to play a game of chess with thee, O King, for thou art\nrenowned for thy skill in that game, and to test that skill am I come.\nAnd my name is Midir, of the People of Dana, whom they have called The\nProud.\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" said the King; \"but I have here no chessboard, and mine\nis in the chamber where the Queen is sleeping.\"\n\n\"That is easily remedied,\" said Midir, and he drew from his cloak a\nfolding chessboard whose squares were alternate gold and silver. From\na men-bag made of brazen chainwork he drew out a set of men adorned\nwith flashing jewels, and he set them in array.\n\n\"I will not play,\" then said Eochy, \"unless we play for a stake.\"\n\n\"For what stake shall we play, then?\" said Midir.\n\n\"I care not,\" said Eochy; \"but do thou perform tasks for me if I win\nand I shall bestow of my treasures upon thee if I lose.\"\n\nSo they played a game, and Eochy won. Then Eochy bade Midir clear the\nplains of Meath about Tara from rocks and stones, and Midir brought at\nnight a great host of the Fairy Folk, and it was done. And again he\nplayed with Eochy, and again he lost, and this time he cut down the\nforest of Breg. The third time Midir lost again, and his task was to\nbuild a causeway across the moor of Lamrach. Now at night, while Midir\nand the fairy host were labouring at the causeway and their oxen\ndrawing to it innumerable loads of earth and gravel, the steward of\nEochy stole out and hid himself to watch them, for it was a\nprohibition to see them at work. And he observed that the fairy oxen\nwere not harnessed with a thong across their foreheads, that the pull\nmight be upon their brows and necks, as was the manner with the Gael,\nbut with yokes upon their shoulders. This he reported to Eochy, who\nfound it good; and he ordered that henceforth the children of the Gael\nshould harness their plough-oxen with the yoke upon their shoulders;\nand so it was done from that day forth. Hence Eochy got his name of\n_Airem_, or \"The Ploughman,\" for he was the first of the Gael to put\nthe yoke upon the shoulder of the ox.\n\nBut it was said that because the Fairy Folk were watched as they made\nthat noble causeway, there came a breach in it at one place which none\ncould ever rightly mend.\n\nWhen all their works were accomplished, Midir came again to Eochy, and\nthis time he bore a dark and fierce countenance and was high girt as\nfor war. And the King welcomed him, and Midir said, \"Thou hast treated\nme hardly and put slavish tasks upon me. All that seemed good to thee\nhave I done, but now I am moved with anger against thee.\"\n\n\"I return not anger for anger,\" said Eochy; \"say what satisfaction I\ncan make thee.\"\n\n\"Let us once more play at chess,\" said Midir.\n\n\"Good,\" said Eochy, \"and what stake wilt thou have now?\"\n\n\"The stake to be whatever the winner shall demand,\" said Midir.\n\nThen they played for the fourth time and Eochy lost.\n\n\"Thou hast won the game,\" said he.\n\n\"I had won long ago had I chosen,\" said Midir.\n\n\"What dost thou demand of me?\" said Eochy.\n\n\"To hold Etain in my arms and obtain a kiss from her,\" replied Midir.\n\nThe King was silent for a while and after that he said, \"Come back in\none month from this day and the stake which I have lost shall be\npaid.\"\n\nBut Eochy summoned together all the host of the heroes of the Gael,\nand they surrounded Tara, ring within ring; and the King himself and\nEtain were in the palace, with the outer court of it shut and locked.\nFor they looked that Midir should come with a great host of the Danaan\nfolk to carry off the Queen. And on the appointed day, as the kings\nsat at meat, Etain and her handmaids were dispensing the wine to them\nas was wont. Then suddenly as they feasted and talked, behold, Midir,\nstood in the midst of them. If he was fair and noble to look on as he\nhad appeared before to the King and to Etain, he was fairer now, for\nthe splendour of the Immortals clothed him, and his jewels flamed as\nhe moved like eyes of living light. And all the kings and lords and\nchampions who were present gazed on him in amazement and were silent,\nas the King arose and gave him welcome.\n\n\"Thou hast received me as I expected to be received,\" said Midir,\n\"and now let thy debt be paid, since I for my part faithfully\nperformed all that I undertook.\"\n\n\"I must consider the matter yet longer,\" said Eochy.\n\n\"Thou hast promised Etain's very self to me,\" said Midir; \"that is\nwhat hath come from thee.\" And when she heard that word Etain blushed\nfor shame.\n\n\"Blush not,\" said Midir, \"for all the treasures of the Land of Youth\nhave not availed to win thee from Eochy, and it is not of thine own\nwill that thou art won, but because the time is come to return to thy\nkin.\"\n\nThen said Eochy, \"I have not promised Etain's self to thee, but to\ntake her in thine arms and kiss her, and now do so if thou wilt.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"They rose up in the air\"]\n\nThen Midir took his weapons in his left hand and placed his right\naround Etain, and when he did so they rose up in the air over the\nheads of the host, and passed through a roof-window in the palace.\nThen all rose up, tumultuous and angry, and rushed out of doors, but\nnothing could they see save two white swans that circled high in air\naround the Hill of Tara, and then flew southwards and away towards\nthe fairy mountain of Slievenamon. And thus Etain the immortal\nrejoined the Immortals; but a daughter of Etain and of Eochy, who was\nanother Etain in name and in beauty, became in due time a wife, and\nmother of kings.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nHow Ethne Quitted Fairyland\n\n\nBy the banks of the River Boyne, where rises the great Fairy Mound now\ncalled Newgrange, there stood long ago the shining Palace of a prince\nof the People of Dana, named Angus. Of him it is that the lines are\nwritten--\n\n  \"By the dark rolling waters of the Boyne\n   Where Angus \u00d3g magnificently dwells.\"\n\nWhen the Milesian race invaded Ireland, and after long fighting\nsubdued the Danaans in spite of all their enchantments and all their\nvalour, the Danaans wrought for themselves certain charms by which\nthey and all their possessions became invisible to mortals, and thus\nthey continued to lead their old joyous life in the holy places of the\nland, and their palaces and dancing-places and folk-motes seem to the\nhuman eye to be merely a green mound or rath, or a lonely hillside, or\na ruined shrine with nettles and foxgloves growing up among its broken\nmasonry.\n\nNow, after Angus and his folk had thus retreated behind the veil of\ninvisibility, it happened that the steward of his palace had a\ndaughter born to him whose name was Ethne. On the same day Fand, the\nwife of Mananan the Sea God, bore him a daughter, and since Angus was\na friend of Mananan and much beloved by him, the child of the Sea God\nwas sent to Brugh na Boyna, the noble dwelling-place of Angus, to be\nfostered and brought up, as the custom was. And Ethne became the\nhandmaid of the young princess of the sea.\n\nIn time Ethne grew into a fair and stately maiden Now in the Brugh of\nAngus there were two magical treasures, namely, an ale-vat which could\nnever be emptied, and two swine whereof one was ever roasted and ready\nto be eaten while the other lived, and thus they were, day and day\nabout. There was therefore always a store of food of faery, charged\nwith magical spells, by eating of which one could never grow old or\ndie. It came to be noticed that after Ethne had grown up she never ate\nor drank of the fairy food, or of any other, yet she continued to seem\nhealthy and well-nourished. This was reported to Angus, and by him to\nMananan, and Mananan by his wisdom discovered the cause of it. One of\nthe lords of the Danaans, happening to be on a visit with Angus, was\nrendered distraught by the maiden's beauty, and one day he laid hands\nupon her and strove to carry her away to his own dwelling. Ethne\nescaped from him, but the blaze of resentment at the insult that lit\nup in her soul consumed in her the fairy nature, that knows not of\ngood or evil, and the nature of the children of Adam took its place.\nThenceforth she ate not of the fairy food, which is prohibited to man,\nand she was nourished miraculously by the will of the One God. But\nafter a time it chanced that Mananan and Angus brought from the Holy\nLand two cows whose milk could never run dry. In this milk there was\nnothing of the fairy spell, and Ethne lived upon it many long years,\nmilking the cows herself, nor did her youth and beauty suffer any\nchange.\n\nNow it happened that on one very hot day the daughter of Mananan went\ndown to bathe in the waters of the Boyne, and Ethne and her other\nmaidens along with her. After they had refreshed themselves in the\ncool, amber-coloured water, they arrayed themselves in their silken\nrobes and trooped back to the Brugh again; but ere they entered it,\nthey discovered that Ethne was not among them.\n\nSo they went back, scattering themselves along the bank and searching\nin every quiet pool of the river and in every dark recess among the\ngreat trees that bordered it, for Ethne was dearly loved by all of\nthem; but neither trace nor tidings of her could they find, and they\nwent sorrowfully home without her, to tell the tale to Angus and to\nher father.\n\nWhat had befallen Ethne was this. In taking off her garments by the\nriverside she had mislaid her fairy charm, and was become as a mortal\nmaid. Nothing could she now see of her companions, and all around was\nstrange to her. The fairy track that had led to the riverside was\novergrown with briars, the palace of Angus was but a wooded hill. She\nknew not where she was, and pierced with sudden terror she fled wildly\naway, seeking for the familiar places that she had known in the fairy\nlife, but which were now behind the Veil. At length she came to a high\nwall wherein was a wicket gate, and through it she saw a garden full\nof sweet herbs and flowers, which surrounded a steep-roofed building\nof stone. In the garden she saw a man in a long brown robe tied about\nhis waist with a cord. He smiled at her and beckoned her to come in\nwithout fear. He was a monk of the holy Patrick, and the house was a\nconvent church.\n\nWhen the monk had heard her tale, he marvelled greatly and brought her\nto St Patrick himself, who instructed her in the Faith, and she\nbelieved and was baptized.\n\n[Illustration: \"She heard her own name called again and again\"]\n\nBut not long thereafter, as she was praying in the church by the\nBoyne, the sky darkened and she heard a sound without like the rushing\nof a great wind, and mingled in it were cries and lamentations, and\nher own name called again and again in a multitude of voices, thin and\nfaint as the crying of curlews upon the moor. She sprang up and gazed\naround, calling in return, but nothing could she see, and at last the\nstorm of cries died away, and everything was still again around the\nchurch except the singing voice of Boyne and the humming of the garden\nbees.\n\nThen Ethne sank down swooning, and the monks bore her out into the\nair, and it was long until her heart beat and her eyes unclosed again.\nIn that hour she fell into a sickness from which she never recovered.\nIn no long time she died with her head upon the breast of the holy\nPatrick, and she was buried in the church where she had first been\nreceived by the monk; and the church was called Killethne, or the\nChurch of Ethne, from that day forward until now.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HIGH DEEDS OF FINN\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nThe Boyhood of Finn mac Cumhal\n\n\nIn Ireland long ago, centuries before the English appeared in that\ncountry, there were kings and chiefs, lawyers and merchants, men of\nthe sword and men of the book, men who tilled their own ground and men\nwho tilled the ground of others, just as there are now. But there was\nalso, as ancient poets and historians tell us, a great company or\nbrotherhood of men who were bound to no fixed calling, unless it was\nto fight for the High King of Ireland whenever foes threatened him\nfrom within the kingdom or without it. This company was called the\nFianna of Erinn. They were mighty hunters and warriors, and though\nthey had great possessions in land, and rich robes, and gold\nornaments, and weapons wrought with beautiful chasing and with\ncoloured enamels, they lived mostly a free out-door life in the light\nhunting-booths which they made in the woods where the deer and the\nwolf ranged. There were then vast forests in Ireland, which are all\ngone now, and there were also, as there still are, many great and\nbeautiful lakes and rivers, swarming with fish and water-fowl. In the\nforests and on the mountain sides roamed the wild boar and the wolf,\nand great herds of deer, some of giant size, whose enormous antlers\nare sometimes found when bogs are being drained. The Fianna chased\nthese and the wolves with great dogs, whose courage and strength and\nbeauty were famous throughout Europe, and which they prized and loved\nabove all things. To the present day in Ireland there still remain\nsome of this breed of Irish hounds, but the giant deer and the wolf\nare gone, and the Fianna of Erinn live only in the ancient books that\nwere written of them, and in the tales that are still told of them in\nthe winter evenings by the Irish peasant's fireside.\n\nThe Fianna were under the rule of one great captain or chief, and at\nthe time I tell of his name was Cumhal, son of Trenmor. Now a tribe or\nfamily of the Fianna named the Clan Morna, or Sons of Morna, rose in\nrebellion against Cumhal, for they were jealous and greedy of his\npower and glory, and sought to have the captaincy for themselves. They\ndefeated and slew him at the battle of Cnucha, which is now called\nCastleknock, near the City of the Hurdle Ford, which is the name that\nDublin still bears in the Irish tongue. Goll, son of Morna, slew\nCumhal, and they spoiled him of the Treasure Bag of the Fianna, which\nwas a bag made of a crane's skin and having in it jewels of great\nprice, and magic weapons, and strange things that had come down from\nfar-off days when the Fairy Folk and mortal men battled for the\nlordship of Ireland. The Bag with its treasures was given to Lia, the\nchief of Luachar in Connacht, who had the keeping of it before, for he\nwas the treasurer of Cumhal, and he was the first man who had wounded\nCumhal in the battle when he fell.\n\nCumhal's wife was named Murna, and she bore him two sons. The elder\nwas named Tulcha, and he fled from the country for fear of Goll and\ntook service with the King of Scotland. The younger was born after\nCumhal's death, and his name was called Demna. And because his mother\nfeared that the sons of Morna would find him out and kill him, she\ngave him to a Druidess and another wise woman of Cumhal's household,\nand bade them take him away and rear him as best they could. So they\ntook him into the wild woods on the Slieve Bloom Mountains, and there\nthey trained him to hunt and fish and to throw the spear, and he grew\nstrong, and as beautiful as a child of the Fairy Folk. If he were in\nthe same field with a hare he could run so that the hare could never\nleave the field, for Demna was always before it. He could run down and\nslay a stag with no dogs to help him, and he could kill a wild duck on\nthe wing with a stone from his sling. And the Druidess taught him the\nlearning of the time, and also the story of his race and nation, and\ntold him of his right to be captain of the Fianna of Erinn when his\nday of destiny should come.\n\nOne day, while still a boy, he was roaming through the woods when he\ncame to the mansion of a great lord, where many boys, sons of the\nchief men of Ireland, were being trained in manly arts and exercises.\nHe found them playing at hurling, and they invited him to join them.\nHe did so, but the side he was on won too easily, so they divided\nagain, and yet again, giving fewer and fewer to Demna's side, till at\nlast he alone drove the ball to the goal through them all, flashing\namong them as a salmon among a shoal of minnows. And then their anger\nand jealousy rose and grew bitter against the stranger, and instead of\nhonouring him as gallant lads of gentle blood should have done they\nfell upon him with their hurling clubs and sought to kill him. But\nDemna felled seven of them to the ground and put the rest to flight,\nand then went his way home. When the boys told what had happened the\nchief asked them who it was that had defeated and routed them\nsingle-handed. They said, \"It was a tall shapely lad, and very fair\n(_finn_).\" So the name of Finn, the Fair One, clung to him\nthenceforth, and by that name he is known to this day.\n\nBy and by Finn gathered round him a band of youths who loved him for\nhis strength and valour and for his generous heart, and with them he\nwent hunting in the forests. And Goll, and the sons of Morna, who were\nnow captains of the Fianna under the High King, began to hear tales of\nhim and his exploits, and they sent trackers to inquire about him, for\nthey had an inkling of who this wonderful fair-haired youth might be.\nFinn's foster mothers heard of this. \"You must leave this place,\" they\nsaid to him, \"and see our faces no more, for if Goll's men find you\nhere they will slay you. We have cherished the blood of Cumhal,\" they\nsaid, \"and now our work is done. Go, and may blessing and victory go\nwith you.\" So Finn departed with naught but his weapons and his\nhunting gear, very sorrowful at leaving the wise and loving friends\nwho had fostered his childhood; but deep in his heart was a wild and\nfierce delight at the thought of the trackless ways he would travel,\nand the wonders he would see; and all the future looked to him as\nbeautiful and dim as the mists that fill a mountain glen under the\nmorning sun.\n\nNow after the death of Cumhal, his brother Crimmal and a few others of\nthe aged warriors of the Fianna, who had not fallen in the fight at\nCnucha, fled away into Connacht, and lived there in the deepest\nrecesses of a great forest, where they hoped the conquerors might\nnever find them. Here they built themselves a poor dwelling of tree\nbranches, plastered with mud and roofed with reeds from the lake, and\nhere they lived on what game they could kill or snare in the wild\nwood; and harder and harder it grew, as age and feebleness crept on\nthem, to find enough to eat, or to hew wood for their fire. In this\nretreat, never having seen the friendly face of man, they were one day\nstartled to hear voices and the baying of hounds approaching them\nthrough the wood, and they thought that the sons of Morna were upon\nthem at last, and that their hour of doom was at hand. Soon they\nperceived a company of youths coming towards their hut, with one in\nfront who seemed to be their leader. Taller he was by a head than the\nrest, broad shouldered, and with masses of bright hair clustering\nround his forehead, and he carried in his hand a large bag made of\nsome delicate skin and stained in patterns of red and blue. The old\nmen thought when they saw him of a saying there was about the mighty\nLugh, who was brother to the wife of Cumhal, that when he came among\nhis army as they mustered for battle, men felt as though they beheld\nthe rising of the sun. As they came near, the young men halted and\nlooked upon the elders with pity, for their clothing of skins was\nragged and the weapons they strove to hold were rusted and blunt, and\nexcept for their proud bearing and the fire in their old eyes they\nlooked more like aged and worthless slaves in the household of a\nniggardly lord than men who had once been the flower of the fighting\nmen of Erinn.\n\nBut the tall youth stepped in front of his band and cried aloud--\n\n\"Which of ye is Crimmal, son of Trenmor?\" And one of the elders said,\n\"I am Crimmal.\" Then tears filled the eyes of the youth, and he knelt\ndown before the old man and put his hands in his.\n\n\"My lord and chief,\" he said, \"I am Finn, son of Cumhal, and the day\nof deliverance is come.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"And that night there was feasting and joy in the\nlonely hut\"]\n\nSo the youths brought in the spoils of their hunting, and yet other\nspoils than these; and that night there was feasting and joy in the\nlonely hut. And Crimmal said--\n\n\"It was foretold to us that one day the blood of Cumhal should be\navenged, and the race of Cumhal should rule the Fianna again. This was\nthe sign that the coming champion should give of his birth and\ndestiny; he was to bear with him the Treasure Bag of Cumhal and the\nsacred things that were therein.\"\n\nFinn said, \"Ye know the Bag and its treasures, tell us if these be\nthey.\" And he laid his skin bag on the knees of Crimmal.\n\nCrimmal opened it, and he took out the jewels of sovranty the magic\nspear-head made by the smiths of the Fairy Folk, and he said, \"These\nbe the treasures of Cumhal; truly the ripeness of the time is come.\"\n\nAnd Finn then told the story of how he had won these things.\n\n\"But yesterday morning,\" he said, \"we met on our way a woman of noble\naspect, and she knelt over the body of a slain youth. When she lifted\nher head as we drew near, tears of blood ran down her cheeks, and she\ncried to me, 'Whoever thou art, I bind thee by the bonds of the sacred\nordinances of the Gael that thou avenge my wrong. This was my son\nGlonda,' she said, 'my only son, and he was slain to-day wantonly by\nthe Lord of Luachar and his men.' So we went, my company and I, to the\nD\u00fan of the Lord of Luachar, and found an earthen rampart with a fosse\nbefore it, and on the top of the rampart was a fence of oaken posts\ninterlaced with wattles, and over this we saw the many-coloured thatch\nof a great dwelling-house, and its white walls painted with bright\ncolours under the broad eaves. So I stood forth and called to the Lord\nof Luachar and bade him make ready to pay an eric to the mother of\nGlonda, whatsoever she should demand. But he laughed at us and cursed\nus and bade us begone. Then we withdrew into the forest, but returned\nwith a great pile of dry brushwood, and while some of us shot stones\nand arrows at whoever should appear above the palisade, others rushed\nup with bundles of brushwood and laid it against the palisade and set\nit on fire, and the Immortal Ones sent a blast of wind that set the\nbrushwood and palisade quickly in a blaze, and through that fiery gap\nwe charged in shouting. And half of the men of Luachar we killed and\nthe rest fled, and the Lord of Luachar I slew in the doorway of his\npalace. We took a great spoil then, O Crimmal--these vessels of bronze\nand silver, and spears and bows, smoked bacon and skins of Greek wine;\nand in a great chest of yewwood we found this bag. All these things\nshall now remain with you, and my company shall also remain to hunt\nfor you and protect you, for ye shall know want and fear no longer\nwhile ye live.\"\n\nAnd Finn said, \"I would fain know if my mother Murna still lives, or\nif she died by the sons of Morna.\"\n\nCrimmal said, \"After thy father's death, Finn, she was wedded to\nGleor, Lord of Lamrigh, in the south, and she still lives in honour\nwith him, and the sons of Morna have let her be. Didst thou never see\nher since she gave thee, an infant, to the wise women on the day of\nCnucha?\"\n\n\"I remember,\" said Finn, \"when I was, as they tell me, but six years\nold, there came one day to our shieling in the woods of Slieve Bloom a\nchariot with bronze-shod wheels and a bronze wolf's head at the end of\nthe pole, and two horsemen riding with it, besides him who drove. A\nlady was in it, with a gold frontlet on her brow and her cloak was\nfastened with a broad golden brooch. She came into our hut and spoke\nlong with my foster-mothers, and me she clasped in her arms and kissed\nmany times, and I felt her tears on my face. And they told me\nafterwards that this was Murna of the White Neck, and my mother. If\nshe have suffered no harm at the hands of the sons of Morna, so much\nthe less is the debt that they shall one day pay.\"\n\nNow it is to be told what happened to Finn at the house of Finegas the\nBard. Finn did not deem that the time had come for him to seize the\ncaptaincy of the Fianna until he had perfected himself in wisdom and\nlearning. So on leaving the shelter of the old men in the wood he went\nto learn wisdom and the art of poetry from Finegas, who dwelt by the\nRiver Boyne, near to where is now the village of Slane. It was a\nbelief among the poets of Ireland that the place of the revealing of\npoetry is always by the margin of water. But Finegas had another\nreason for the place where he made his dwelling, for there was an old\nprophecy that whoever should first eat of the Salmon of Knowledge that\nlived in the River Boyne, should become the wisest of men. Now this\nsalmon was called Finntan in ancient times and was one of the\nImmortals, and he might be eaten and yet live. But in the time of\nFinegas he was called the Salmon of the Pool of Fec, which is the\nplace where the fair river broadens out into a great still pool, with\ngreen banks softly sloping upward from the clear brown water. Seven\nyears was Finegas watching the pool, but not until after Finn had come\nto be his disciple was the salmon caught. Then Finegas gave it to Finn\nto cook, and bade him eat none of it. But when Finegas saw him coming\nwith the fish, he knew that something had chanced to the lad, for he\nhad been used to have the eye of a young man but now he had the eye of\na sage. Finegas said, \"Hast thou eaten of the salmon?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Finn, \"but it burnt me as I turned it upon the spit and I\nput my thumb in my mouth\" And Finegas smote his hands together and was\nsilent for a while. Then he said to the lad who stood by obediently,\n\"Take the salmon and eat it, Finn, son of Cumhal, for to thee the\nprophecy is come. And now go hence, for I can teach thee no more, and\nblessing and victory be thine.\"\n\nWith Finegas, Finn learned the three things that make a poet, and they\nare Fire of Song, and Light of Knowledge, and the Art of Extempore\nRecitation. Before he departed he made this lay to prove his art, and\nit is called \"The Song of Finn in Praise of May\":--\n\n   May Day! delightful day!\n     Bright colours play the vales along.\n   Now wakes at morning's slender ray,\n     Wild and gay, the blackbird's song.\n\n   Now comes the bird of dusty hue,\n     The loud cuckoo, the summer-lover;\n   Branching trees are thick with leaves;\n     The bitter, evil time is over.\n\n   Swift horses gather nigh\n     Where half dry the river goes;\n   Tufted heather crowns the height;\n     Weak and white the bogdown blows.\n\n   Corncrake sings from eve till morn,\n     Deep in corn, a strenuous bard!\n   Sings the virgin waterfall,\n     White and tall, her one sweet word.\n\n   Loaded bees of little power\n     Goodly flower-harvest win;\n   Cattle roam with muddy flanks;\n     Busy ants go out and in.\n\n   Through, the wild harp of the wood\n     Making music roars the gale--\n   Now it slumbers without motion,\n     On the ocean sleeps the sail.\n\n   Men grow mighty in the May,\n     Proud and gay the maidens grow;\n   Fair is every wooded height;\n     Fair and bright the plain below.\n\n   A bright shaft has smit the streams,\n     With gold gleams the water-flag;\n   Leaps the fish, and on the hills\n     Ardour thrills the flying stag.\n\n   Carols loud the lark on high,\n     Small and shy, his tireless lay,\n   Singing in wildest, merriest mood\n     Of delicate-hued, delightful May.[20]\n\n   [20] I am much indebted to the beautiful prose translation of\n   this song, published by Dr Kuno Meyer in _\u00c9riu_ (the Journal of\n   the School of Irish Learning), Vol. I. Part II. In my poetic\n   version an attempt has been made to render the riming and\n   metrical effect of the original, which is believed to date from\n   about the ninth century.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nThe Coming of Finn\n\n\nAnd now we tell how Finn came to the captaincy of the Fianna of Erinn.\n\nAt this time Ireland was ruled by one of the mightiest of her native\nkings, Conn, son of Felimy, who was surnamed Conn of the Hundred\nBattles. And Conn sat in his great banqueting hall at Tara, while the\nyearly Assembly of the lords and princes of the Gael went forward,\nduring which it was the inviolable law that no quarrel should be\nraised and no weapon drawn, so that every man who had a right to come\nto that Assembly might come there and sit next his deadliest foe in\npeace. Below him sat at meat the provincial kings and the chiefs of\nclans, and the High King's officers and fighting-men of the Fianna,\nwith Goll and the sons of Morna at their head. And there, too, sat\nmodestly a strange youth, tall and fair, whom no one had seen in that\nplace before. Conn marked him with the eye of a king that is\naccustomed to mark men, and by and by he sent him a horn full of wine\nfrom his own table and bade the youth declare his name and lineage.\n\"I am Finn, son of Cumhal,\" said the youth, standing among them, tall\nas a warriors spear, and a start and a low murmur ran through the\nAssembly while the captains of the Fianna stared upon him like men who\nsee a vision of the dead. \"What seek you here?\" said Conn, and Finn\nreplied, \"To be your man, O King, and to do you service in war as my\nfather did.\" \"It is well,\" said the King. \"Thou art a friend's son and\nthe son of man of trust.\" So Finn put his hand in the Kind's and swore\nfealty and service to him, and Conn set him beside his own son Art,\nand all fell to talking again and wondering what new things that day\nwould bring forth, and the feasting went merrily forward.\n\nNow at this time the people of the royal burg of Tara were sorely\nafflicted by a goblin of the Fairy Folk, who was wont to approach the\nplace at night-fall, there to work what harm to man, or beast, or\ndwelling that he found in his evil mind to do. And he could not be\nresisted, for as he came he played on a magic harp a strain so keen\nand sweet, that each man who heard it must needs stand entranced and\nmotionless until the fairy music had passed away. The King proclaimed\na mighty reward to any man who would save Tara from the goblin, and\nFinn thought in his heart, \"I am the man to do that.\" So he said to\nthe King, \"Shall I have my rightful heritage as captain of the Fianna\nof Erin if I slay the goblin?\" Conn said, \"I promise thee that,\" and\nhe bound himself by the sureties of all the provincial Kings of\nIreland and of the Druid Kithro and his magicians.\n\nNow there was among the following of Conn a man named Fiacha, who had\nbeen as a youth a trusty friend and follower of Cumhal. He came to\nFinn and brought with him a spear having a head of dark bronze with\nglittering edges, and fastened with thirty rivets of Arabian gold, and\nthe spear-head was laced up within a leathern case. \"By this weapon of\nenchantment,\" said Fiacha, \"you shall overcome the enchanter,\" and he\ntaught Finn what to do with it when the hour of need should come.\n\nSo Finn took the spear, and left the strings of the case loose, and he\npaced with it towards night-fall around the ramparts of royal Tara.\nAnd when he had once made the circuit of the rampart, and the light\nhad now almost quite faded from the summer sky, and the wide low\nplains around the Hill of Tara were a sea of white mist, he heard far\noff in the deepening gloom the first notes of the fairy harp. Never\nsuch music was made by mortal hand, for it had in it sorrows that man\nhas never felt, and joys for which man has no name, and it seemed as\nif a man listening to that music might burst from time into eternity\nand be as one of the Immortals for evermore. And Finn listened, amazed\nand rapt, till at last as the triumphant melody grew nearer and louder\nhe saw dimly a Shadow Shape playing as it were on a harp, and coming\nswiftly towards him. Then with a mighty effort he roused himself from\ndreams, and tore the cover from the spear-head and laid the metal to\nhis brow. And the demoniac energy that had been beaten into the blade\nby the hammers of unearthly craftsmen in ancient days thrilled\nthrough him and made him fighting-mad, and he rushed forward shouting\nhis battle-cry, and swinging the spear aloft. But the Shadow turned\nand fled before him, and Finn chased it northward to the Fairy Mound\nof Slieve Fuad, and there he drove the spear through its back. And\nwhat it was that fell there in the night, and what it was that passed\nlike the shadow of a shadow into the Fairy Mound, none can tell, but\nFinn bore back with him next day a pale, sorrowful head on the point\nof Fiacha's spear, and the goblin troubled the folk of royal Tara no\nmore.\n\nBut Conn of the Hundred Battles called the Fianna together, and he set\nFinn at his right hand and said, \"Here is your Captain by birth-right\nand by sword-right. Let who will now obey him hence-forward, and who\nwill not, let him go in peace and serve Arthur of Britain or Arist of\nAlba, or whatsoever King he will.\" And Goll, son of Morna, said, \"For\nmy part I will be Finn's man under thee, O King,\" and he swore\nobedience and loyalty to Finn before them all. Nor was it hard for any\nman to step where Goll had gone before, so they all took their oaths\nof Fian service to Finn mac Cumhal. And thus it was that Finn came to\nthe captaincy of the Fianna of Erinn, and he ruled the Fianna many a\nyear till he died in battle with the Clan Urgrenn at Brea upon the\nBoyne.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nFinn's Chief Men\n\n\nWith the coming of Finn did the Fianna of Erinn come to their glory,\nand with his life their glory passed away. For he ruled them as no\nother captain ever did, both strongly and wisely, and never bore a\ngrudge against any, but freely forgave a man all offences save\ndisloyalty to his lord. Thus it is told that Conan, son of the Lord of\nLuachar, him who had the Treasure Bag and whom Finn slew at Rath\nLuachar, was for seven years an outlaw and marauder, harrying the\nFians, and killing here a man and there a hound, and firing their\ndwellings, and raiding their cattle. At last they ran him to a corner\nat Cam Lewy in Munster, and when he saw that he could escape no more\nhe stole upon Finn as he sat down after a chase, and flung his arms\nround him from behind, holding him fast and motionless. Finn knew who\nheld him thus and said, \"What wilt thou Conan?\" Conan said, \"To make a\ncovenant of service and fealty with thee, for I may no longer evade\nthy wrath.\" So Finn laughed and said, \"Be it so, Conan, and if thou\nprove faithful and valiant, I also will keep faith.\" And Conan served\nhim for thirty years, and no man of all the Fianna was keener and\nhardier in fight. There was also another Conan, namely, mac Morna,\nwho was big and bald, and unwieldy in manly exercises, but whose\ntongue was bitter and scurrilous; no high brave thing was done that\nConan the Bald did not mock and belittle. It is said that when he was\nstripped he showed down his back and buttocks a black sheep's fleece\ninstead of a man's skin, and this is the way it came about. One day\nwhen Conan and certain others of the Fianna were hunting in the forest\nthey came to a stately D\u00fan, white-walled, with coloured thatching on\nthe roof, and they entered it to seek hospitality. But when they were\nwithin they found! no man, but a great empty hall with pillars of\ncedar wood and silken hangings about it, like the hall of a wealthy\nlord. In the midst there was a table set forth with a sumptuous feast\nof boar's flesh and venison, and a great vat of yew wood full of red\nwine, and cups of gold and silver. So they set themselves gaily to eat\nand drink, for they were hungry from the chase, and talk and laughter\nwere loud around the board. But one of them ere long started to his\nfeet with a cry of fear and wonder, and they all looked round, and saw\nbefore their eyes the tapestried walls changing to rough wooden balks\nand the ceiling to foul sooty thatch like that of a herdsman's hut. So\nthey knew they were being entrapped by some enchantment of the Fairy\nFolk, and all sprang to their feet and made for the doorway, that was\nno longer high and stately but was shrinking to the size of a fox\nearth,--all but Conan the Bald, who was gluttonously devouring the\ngood things on the table, and heeded nothing else. Then they shouted\nto him, and as the last of them went out he strove to rise and follow,\nbut found himself limed to the chair so that he could not stir. So\ntwo of the Fianna, seeing his plight, rushed back and seized his arms\nand tugged with all their might, and if they dragged him away, they\nleft the most part of his raiment and his skin sticking to the chair.\nThen, not knowing what else to do with him in his sore plight they\nclapped upon his back the nearest thing they could find, which was the\nskin of a black sheep that they took from a peasant's flock hard by,\nand it grew there, and Conan wore it till his death.\n\nThough Conan was a coward and rarely adventured himself in battle with\nthe Fianna, it is told that once a good man fell by his hand. This was\non the day of the great battle with the pirate horde on the Hill of\nSlaughter in Kerry.[21] For Liagan, one of the invaders, stood out\nbefore the hosts and challenged the bravest of the Fians to single\ncombat, and the Fians, in mockery, thrust Conan forth to the fight.\nWhen he appeared, Liagan laughed, for he had more strength than wit,\nand he said, \"Silly is thy visit, thou bald old man.\" And as Conan\nstill approached, Liagan lifted his hand fiercely, and Conan said,\n\"Truly thou art in more peril from the man behind than from the man in\nfront.\" Liagan looked round; and in that instant Conan swept off his\nhead and then threw down his sword and ran for shelter to the ranks of\nthe laughing Fians. But Finn was very wroth because he had won the\nvictory by a trick.\n\n   [21] The hill still bears the name, Knockanar.\n\nAnd one of the chiefest of the friends of Finn was Dermot of the Love\nSpot. He was so fair and noble to look on that no woman could refuse\nhim love, and it was said that he never knew weariness, but his step\nwas as light at the end of the longest day of battle or the chase as\nit was at the beginning. Between him and Finn there was great love\nuntil the day when Finn, then an old man, was to wed Grania, daughter\nof Cormac the High King; but Grania bound Dermot by the sacred\nordinances of the Fian chivalry to fly with her on her wedding night,\nwhich thing, sorely against his will, he did, and thereby got his\ndeath. But Grania went back to Finn, and when the Fianna saw her they\nlaughed through all the camp in bitter mockery, for they would not\nhave given one of the dead man's fingers for twenty such as Grania.\n\nOthers of the chief men that Finn had were Keelta mac Ronan, who was\none of his house-stewards and a strong warrior as well as a\ngolden-tongued reciter of tales and poems. And there was Ois\u00edn, the\nson of Finn, the greatest poet of the Gael, of whom more shall be told\nhereafter. And Ois\u00edn had a son Oscar, who was the fiercest fighter in\nbattle among all the Fians. He slew in his maiden battle three kings,\nand in his fury he also slew by mischance his own friend and\ncondisciple Linne. His wife was the fair Aideen, who died of grief\nafter Oscar's death in the battle of Gowra, and Ois\u00edn buried her on\nBen Edar (Howth), and raised over her the great cromlech which is\nthere to this day.\n\nAnother good man that Finn had was Geena, the son of Luga; his mother\nwas the warrior-daughter of Finn, and his father was a near kinsman of\nhers. He was nurtured by a woman that bore the name of Fair Mane, who\nhad brought up many of the Fianna to manhood. When his time to take\narms was come he stood before Finn and made his covenant of fealty,\nand Finn gave him the captaincy of a band. But mac Luga proved\nslothful and selfish, for ever vaunting himself and his weapon-skill\nand never training his men to the chase of deer or boar, and he used\nto beat his hounds and his serving-men. At last the Fians under him\ncame with their whole company to Finn at Loch Lena in Killarney, and\nthere they laid their complaint against mac Luga, and said, \"Choose\nnow, O Finn, whether you will have us, or the son of Luga by himself.\"\n\nThen Finn sent to mac Luga and questioned him, but mac Luga could say\nnothing to the point as to why the Fianna would none of him. Then Finn\ntaught him the things befitting a youth of noble birth and a captain\nof men, and they were these:--\n\n\"Son of Luga, if armed service be thy design, in a great man's\nhousehold be quiet, be surly in the narrow pass.\"\n\n\"Without a fault of his beat not thy hound; until thou ascertain her\nguilt, bring not a charge against thy wife.\"\n\n\"In battle, meddle not with a buffoon, for, O mac Luga, he is but a\nfool.\"\n\n\"Censure not any if he be of grave repute; stand not up to take part\nin a brawl; have nought to do with a madman or a wicked one.\"\n\n\"Two-thirds of thy gentleness be shown to women and to those that\ncreep on the floor (little children) and to poets, and be not violent\nto the common people.\"\n\n\"Utter not swaggering speech, nor say thou wilt not yield what is\nright; it is a shameful thing to speak too stiffly unless that it be\nfeasible to carry out thy words.\"\n\n\"So long as thou shalt live, thy lord forsake not; neither for gold\nnor for other reward in the world abandon one whom thou art pledged to\nprotect.\"\n\n\"To a chief do not abuse his people, for that is no work for a\ngentleman.\"\n\n\"Be no talebearer, nor utterer of falsehoods; be not talkative nor\nrashly censorious. Stir not up strife against thee, however good a man\nthou be.\"\n\n\"Be no frequenter of the drinking-house, nor given to carping at the\nold; meddle not with a man of mean estate.\"\n\n\"Dispense thy meat freely, have no niggard for thy familiar.\"\n\n\"Force not thyself upon a chief, nor give him cause to speak ill of\nthee.\"\n\n\"Stick to thy gear, hold fast to thy arms till the stern fight with\nits weapon-glitter be well ended.\"\n\n\"Be more apt to give than to deny, and follow after gentleness, O son\nof Luga.\"[22]\n\n   [22] I have in the main borrowed Standish Hayes O'Grady's vivid\n   and racy translation of these adages of the Fianna. (SILVA\n   GADELICA, Engl. transl., p. 115.)\n\nAnd the son of Luga, it is written, heeded these counsels and gave up\nhis bad ways, and he became one of the best of Finn's men.\n\nSuch-like things also Finn taught to all his followers, and the best\nof them became like himself in valour and gentleness and generosity.\nEach of them loved the repute of his comrades more than his own, and\neach would say that for all noble qualities there was no man in the\nbreadth of the world worthy to be thought of beside Finn.\n\nIt was said of him that \"he gave away gold as if it were the leaves of\nthe woodland, and silver as if it were the foam of the sea,\" and that\nwhatever he had bestowed upon any man, if he fell out with him\nafterwards, he was never known to bring it against him.\n\nSang the poet Ois\u00edn of him once to St Patrick:--\n\n  \"These are the things that were dear to Finn--\n  The din of battle, the banquet's glee,\n  The bay of his hounds through the rough glen ringing.\n  And the blackbird singing in Letter Lee,\n\n  \"The shingle grinding along the shore\n  When they dragged his war-boats down to sea,\n  The dawn-wind whistling his spears among,\n  And the magic song of his minstrels three.\"\n\nIn the time of Finn no one was ever admitted to be one of the Fianna\nof Erinn unless he could pass through many severe tests of his\nworthiness. He must be versed in the Twelve Books of Poetry and must\nhimself be skilled to make verse in the rime and metre of the masters\nof Gaelic poesy. Then he was buried to his middle in the earth, and\nmust, with a shield and a hazel stick, there defend himself against\nnine warriors casting spears at him, and if he were wounded he was\nnot accepted. Then his hair was woven into braids and he was chased\nthrough the forest by the Fians. If he were overtaken, or if a braid\nof his hair were disturbed, or if a dry stick cracked under his foot,\nhe was not accepted. He must be able to leap over a lath level with\nhis brow and to run at full speed under level with his knee, and he\nmust be able while running to draw out a thorn from his foot and never\nslacken speed. He must take no dowry with a wife.\n\nIt was said that one of the Fians, namely Keelta, lived on to a great\nage, and saw St Patrick, by whom he was baptized into the faith of the\nChrist, and to whom he told many tales of Finn and his men, which\nPatrick's scribe wrote down. And once Patrick asked him how it was\nthat the Fianna became so mighty and so glorious that all Ireland sang\nof their deeds, as Ireland has done ever since. Keelta answered,\n\"Truth was in our hearts and strength in our arms, and what we said,\nthat we fulfilled.\"\n\nThis was also told of Keelta after he had seen St Patrick and received\nthe Faith. He chanced to be one day by Leyney in Connacht, where the\nFairy Folk of the Mound of Duma were wont to be sorely harassed and\nspoiled every year by pirates from oversea. They called Keelta to\ntheir aid, and by his counsel and valour the invaders were overcome\nand driven home, but Keelta was sorely wounded. Then Keelta asked\nthat Owen the seer of the Fairy Folk might foretell him how long he\nhad to live, for he was already a very aged man. Owen said, \"It will\nbe seventeen years, O Keelta of fair fame, till thou fall by the pool\nof Tara, and grievous that will be to all the King's household.\" \"Even\nso did my chief and lord, my guardian and loving Protector, Finn,\nforetell to me,\" said Keelta. \"And now what fee will ye give me for my\nrescue of you from the worst affliction that ever befell you?\" \"A\ngreat reward,\" said the Fairy Folk, \"even youth; for by our art we\nshall change you into young man again with all the strength and\nactivity of your prime.\" \"Nay, God forbid,\" said Keelta \"that I should\ntake upon me a shape of sorcery, or any other than that which my\nMaker, the true and glorious God, hath bestowed upon me.\" And the\nFairy Folk said, \"It is the word of a true warrior and hero, and the\nthing that thou sayest is good.\" So they healed his wounds, and every\nbodily evil that he had, and he wished them blessing and victory, and\nwent his way.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nThe Tale of Vivionn the Giantess\n\n\nOne day Finn and Goll, Keelta and Oscar, and others of the Fianna,\nwere resting after the hunt on a certain hill now called the Ridge of\nthe Dead Woman, and their meal was being got ready, when a girl of the\nkin of the giants came striding up and sat down among them. \"Didst\nthou ever see a woman so tall?\" asked Finn of Goll. \"By my troth,\"\nsaid Goll, \"never have I or any other seen a woman so big.\" She took\nher hand out of her bosom and on her long slender fingers there were\nthree gold rings each as thick as an ox's yoke. \"Let us question her,\"\nsaid Goll, and Finn said, \"If we stood up, perchance she might hear\nus.\"\n\nSo they all rose to their feet, but the giantess, on that, rose up\ntoo. \"Maiden,\" said Finn, \"if thou have aught to say to us or to hear\nfrom us, sit down and lean thine elbow on the hill-side.\" So she lay\ndown and Finn bade her say whence she came and what was her will with\nthem. \"Out of the World Oversea where the sun sets am I come,\" she\nsaid, \"to seek thy protection, O mighty Finn.\" \"And what is thy name?\"\n\"My name is Vivionn of the Fair Hair, and my father Treon is called\nKing of the Land of Lasses, for he has but three sons and nine and\nseven score daughters, and near him is a King who hath one daughter\nand eight score sons. To one of these, \u00c6da, was I given in marriage\nsorely against my will. Three times now have I fled from him. And this\ntime it was fishermen whom the wind blew to us from off this land who\ntold us of a mighty lord here, named Finn, son of Cumhal, who would\nlet none be wronged or oppressed, but he would be their friend and\nchampion. And if thou be he, to thee am I come.\" Then she laid her\nhand in Finn's, and he bade her do the same with Goll mac Morna, who\nwas second in the Fian leadership, and she did so.\n\nThen the maiden took from her head a jewelled golden helmet, and\nimmediately her hair flowed out in seven score tresses, fair, curly\nand golden, at the abundance of which all stood amazed; and Finn said,\n\"By the Immortals that we adore, but King Cormac and the poetess Ethne\nand the fair women-folk of the Fianna would deem it a marvel to see\nthis girl. Tell us now, maiden, what portion wilt thou have of meat\nand drink? will that of a hundred of us suffice thee?\" The girl then\nsaw Cnu, the dwarf harper of Finn, who had just been playing to them,\nand she said, \"Whatever thou givest to yon little man that bears the\nharp, be it much or little, the same, O Finn, will suffice for me.\"\n\nThen she begged a drink from them, and Finn called his gillie,\nSaltran, and bade him fetch the full of a certain great goblet with\nwater from the ford; now this goblet was of wood, and it held as much\nas nine of the Fianna could drink. The maiden poured some of the water\ninto her right hand and drank three sips of it, and scattered the rest\nover the Fianna, and she and they burst out laughing. Finn said, \"On\nthy conscience, girl, what ailed thee not to drink out of the goblet?\"\n\"Never,\" she replied, \"have I drunk out of any vessel but there was a\nrim of gold to it, or at least of silver.\"\n\nAnd now Keelta looking up perceived a tall youth coming swiftly\ntowards them, who, when he approached, seemed even bigger than was the\nmaiden. He wore a rough hairy cape over his shoulder and beneath that\na green cloak fastened by a golden brooch; his tunic was of royal\nsatin, and he bore a red shield slung over his shoulders, and a spear\nwith a shaft as thick as a man's leg was in his hand; a gold-hilted\nsword hung by his side. And his face, which was smooth-shaven, was\ncomelier than that of any of the sons of men.\n\nWhen he came near, seeing among the Fians a stir of alarm at this\napparition, Finn said, \"Keep every one of you his place, let neither\nwarrior nor gillie address him. Know any of you this champion?\" \"I\nknow him,\" said the maiden; \"that is even he to escape from whom I am\ncome to thee, O Finn.\" And she sat down between Finn and Goll. But the\nstranger drew near, and spake never a word, but before any one could\ntell what he would be at he thrust fiercely and suddenly with his\nspear at the girl, and the shaft stood out a hand's breadth at her\nback. And she fell gasping, but the young man drew his weapon out and\npassed rapidly through the crowd and away.\n\n[Illustration: \"They ran him by hill and plain\"]\n\nThen Finn cried, red with wrath, \"Ye have seen! Avenge this wicked\ndeed, or none of you aspire to Fianship again.\" And the whole company\nsprang to their feet and gave chase to that murderer, save only Finn\nand Goll, who stayed by the dying maiden. And they ran him by hill and\nplain to the great Bay of Tralee and down to the Tribute Point, where\nthe traders from oversea were wont to pay their dues, and there he set\nhis face to the West and took the water. By this time four of the\nFianna had outstripped the rest, namely, Keelta, and Dermot, and Glas,\nand Oscar, son of Ois\u00edn. Of these Keelta was first, and just as the\ngiant was mid-leg in the waves he hurled his spear and it severed the\nthong of the giant's shield so that it fell off in the water. And as\nthe giant paused, Keelta seized his spear and tore it from him. But\nthe giant waded on, and soon the Fians were floundering in deep water\nwhile the huge form, thigh deep, was seen striding towards the setting\nsun. And a great ship seemed to draw near, and it received him, and\nthen departed into the light, but the Fians returned in the grey\nevening, bearing the spear and the great shield to Finn. There they\nfound the maiden at point of death, and they laid the weapons before\nher. \"Goodly indeed are these arms,\" she said, \"for that is the\nThunder Spear of the King Oversea and the shield is the Red Branch\nShield,\" for it was covered with red arabesques. Then she bestowed her\nbracelets on Finn's three harpers, the dwarf Cnu, and Blanit his wife,\nand the harper Daira. And she bade Finn care for her burial, that it\nshould be done becomingly, \"for under thy honour and protection I got\nmy death, and it was to thee I came into Ireland.\" So they buried her\nand lamented her, and made a great far-seen mound over her grave,\nwhich is called the Ridge of the Dead Woman, and set up a pillar stone\nupon it with her name and lineage carved in Ogham-crave.[23]\n\n   [23] Ogham-craobh = \"branching Ogham,\" so called because the\n   letters resembled the branching of twigs from a stem. The Ogham\n   alphabet was in use in Ireland in pre-Christian times, and many\n   sepulchral inscriptions in it still remain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nThe Chase of the Gilla Dacar\n\n\nIn the reign of Cormac mac Art, grandson of Conn of the Hundred\nBattles, the order of precedence and dignity in the court of the High\nKing at Tara was as follows: First came great Cormac, the kingly, the\nhospitable, warrior and poet, and he was supreme over all. Next in\norder came the five kings of the five Provinces of Ireland, namely,\nUlster, Munster, Connacht, Leinster, and Mid-Erinn. After these ranked\nthe captains of the royal host, of whom Finn, son of Cumhal, was the\nchief.\n\nNow the privileges of the Fianna of Erinn were many and great; to wit,\nin every county in Ireland one townland, and in every townland a\ncartron of land, and in the house of every gentleman the right to\nhave a young deer-hound or a beagle kept at nurse from November to\nMay, together with many other taxes and royalties not to be recounted\nhere. But if they had these many and great privileges, yet greater\nthan these were the toils and hardships which they had to endure, in\nguarding the coasts of all Ireland from oversea invaders and\nmarauders, and in keeping down all robbers and outlaws and evil folk\nwithin the kingdom, for this was the duty laid upon them by their bond\nof service to the King.\n\nNow the summer half of the year was wont to be ended by a great\nhunting in one of the forests of Ireland, and so it was that one\nAll-hallowtide, when the great banquet of Finn in his D\u00fan on the Hill\nof Allen was going forward, and the hall resounded with cheerful talk\nand laughter and with the music of tympan and of harp, Finn asked of\nthe assembled captains in what part of Erinn they should proceed to\nbeat up game on the morrow. And it was agreed among them to repair to\nthe territory of Thomond and Desmond in Munster; and from Allen they\nset out accordingly and came to the Hill of Knockany. Thence they\nthrew out the hunt and sent their bands of beaters through many a\ngloomy ravine and by many a rugged hill-pass and many a fair open\nplain. Desmond's high hills, called now Slievelogher, they beat, and\nthe smooth, swelling hills of Slievenamuck, and the green slopes of\ngrassy Slievenamon, and the towering rough crags of the Decies, and\nthence on to the dark woods of Belachgowran.\n\nWhile the great hunt was going forward Finn with certain of his chief\ncaptains sat on a high mound to overlook it. There, with Finn, were\nGoll and Art mac Morna, and Liagan the swift runner, and Dermot of the\nLove Spot, and Keelta, son of Ronan, and there also was Conan the\nBald, the man of scurrilous tongue, and a score or so more. Sweet it\nwas to Finn and his companions to hear from the woods and wildernesses\naround them the many-tongued baying of the hounds and the cries and\nwhistling of the beaters, the shouting of the strong men and the notes\nof the Fian hunting-horn.\n\nWhen they had sat there awhile one of Finn's men came running quickly\ntowards him and said--\n\n\"A stranger is approaching us from the westward, O Finn, and I much\nmislike his aspect.\"\n\nWith that all the Fians looked up and beheld upon the hillside a huge\nman, looking like some Fomorian marauder, black-visaged and ugly, with\na sour countenance and ungainly limbs. On his back hung a dingy black\nshield, on his misshapen left thigh he wore a sharp broad-bladed\nsword; projecting over his shoulder were two long lances with broad\nrusty heads. He wore garments that looked as if they had been buried\nin a cinder heap, and a loose ragged mantle. Behind him there shambled\na sulky, ill-shapen mare with a bony carcase and bowed knees, and on\nher neck a clumsy iron halter. With a rope her master hauled her\nalong, with violent jerks that seemed as if they would wrench her head\nfrom her scraggy neck, and ever and anon the mare would stand and jib,\nwhen the man laid on her ribs such blows from a strong ironshod cudgel\nthat they sounded like the surges of the sea beating on a rocky coast.\nShort as was the distance from where the man and his horse were first\nperceived to where Finn was standing, it was long ere they traversed\nit. At last, however, he came into the presence of Finn and louted\nbefore him, doing obeisance. Finn lifted his hand over him and bade\nhim speak, and declare his business and his name and rank. \"I know\nnot,\" said the fellow, \"of what blood I am, gentle or simple, but only\nthis, that I am a wight from oversea looking for service and wages.\nAnd as I have heard of thee, O Finn, that thou art not wont to refuse\nany man, I came to take service with thee if thou wilt have me.\"\n\n\"Neither shall I refuse thee,\" said Finn; \"but what brings thee here\nwith a horse and no horseboy?\"\n\n\"Good enough reason,\" said the stranger. \"I have much ado to get meat\nfor my own belly, seeing that I eat for a hundred men; and I will not\nhave any horseboy meddling with my ration.\"\n\n\"And what name dost thou bear?\"\n\n\"I am called the Gilla Dacar (the Hard Gillie),\" replied he.\n\n\"Why was that name given thee?\" asked Finn.\n\n\"Good enough reason for that also,\" spake the stranger, \"for of all\nthe lads in the world there is none harder than I am for a lord to get\nany service and obedience from.\" Then turning to Conan the Bald he\nsaid, \"Whether among the Fianna is a horseman's pay or a footman's the\nhighest?\"\n\n\"A horseman's surely,\" said Conan, \"seeing that he gets twice the pay\nof a footman.\"\n\n\"Then I am a horseman in thy service, Finn,\" said the gillie. \"I call\nthee to observe that I have here a horse, and moreover that as a\nhorseman I came among the Fianna. Have I thy authority,\" he went on,\n\"to turn out my steed among thine?\"\n\n\"Turn her out,\" quoth Finn.\n\nThen the big man flung his mare the rope and immediately she galloped\noff to where the Fian horses were grazing. Here she fell to biting and\nkicking them, knocking out the eye of one and snapping off another's\near and breaking the leg of another with a kick.\n\n\"Take away thy mare, big man,\" cried Conan then, \"or by Heaven and\nEarth were it not that Finn told thee to let her loose I would let\nloose her brains. Many a bad bargain has Finn made but never a worse\nthan thou.\"\n\n\"By Heaven and Earth,\" said the gillie, \"that I never will, for I have\nno horseboy, and I will do no horseboy's work.\"\n\nThen Conan mac Morna took the iron halter and laid it on the\nstranger's horse and brought the beast back to Finn and held it there.\n\nSaid Finn to Conan, \"I have never seen thee do horseboy's service even\nto far better men than this gillie. How now if thou wert to leap on\nthe brute's back and gallop her to death over hill and dale in payment\nfor the mischief she hath wrought among our steeds?\"\n\nAt this word Conan clambered up on the back of the big man's mare, and\nwith all his might he smote his two heels into her, but the mare never\nstirred.\n\n\"I perceive what ails her,\" said Finn. \"She will never stir till she\nhas a weight of men on her equal to that of her own rider.\"\n\nThen thirteen men of the Fianna scrambled up laughing behind Conan,\nand the mare lay down under them, and then got up again, they still\nclinging to her. At this the big man said,\n\n\"It appears that you are making a sport and mockery of my mare, and\nthat even I myself do not escape from it. It is well for me that I\nhave not spent the rest of the year in your company, seeing what a\njest ye have made of me the very first day; and I perceive, O Finn,\nthat thou art very unlike the report that is made of thee. And now I\nbid thee farewell, for of thy service I have had enough.\"\n\nSo with downcast head and despondent looks the big gillie shambled\nslowly away until he had passed out of view of the Fianna, behind the\nshoulder of the hill. Having arrived here he tucked up his coat to his\nwaist, and fast though be the flight of the swallow, and fast that of\nthe roe-deer, and fast the rush of a roaring wind over a mountain top\nin mid-March, no faster are these than the bounding speed and furious\nflight of the big man down the hillside toward the West.\n\nNo sooner did the mare see that her master had departed than she too\ndashed uncontrollably forward and flew down the hillside after him.\nAnd as the Fians saw Conan the Bald and his thirteen companions thus\ncarried off, willy nilly, they broke into a roar of laughter and ran\nalongside mocking them. But Conan, seeing that they were being carried\noff in the wake of the big man of evil aspect, of whom none knew\nwhence or who he was, he was terrified and began reviling and cursing,\nand shouted to Finn, \"A palsy seize thee, Finn; may some rascally\nchurl, that is if possible of worse blood than thyself, have thy head,\nunless thou follow and rescue us wheresoever this monster shall bring\nus.\" So Finn and the Fianna ran, and the mare ran, over bare hills and\nby deep glens, till at last they came to Corcaguiny in Kerry, where\nthe gillie set his face to the blue ocean, and the mare dashed in\nafter him. But ere he did so, Liagan the Swift got two hands on the\ntail of the mare, though further he could not win, and he was towed\nin, still clinging to his hold, and over the rolling billows away they\nwent, the fourteen Fians on the wild mare's back, and Liagan haled\nalong by her tail.\n\n\"What is to be done now?\" said Ois\u00edn to Finn when they had arrived at\nthe beach.\n\n\"Our men are to be rescued,\" said Finn, \"for to that we are bound by\nthe honour of the Fianna. Whithersoever they are gone, thither must we\nfollow and win them back by fair means or foul; but to that end we\nmust first fit out a galley.\"\n\nSo in the end it was agreed that Finn and fourteen men of his bravest\nand best champions should sail oversea in search of the Gilla Dacar\nand his captives, while Ois\u00edn remained in Erinn and exercised rule\nover the Fianna in the place of his father.\n\nAfter a while, then, a swift galley was made ready by Finn and stored\nwith victual, and with arms, and also with gold and raiment to make\ngifts withal if need should be. And into the ship came the fifteen\nvaliant men, and gripped their oars, while Finn steered; and soon the\nsea whitened around their oarblades, and over the restless, rolling\nmasses of the many-hued and voiceful billows, the ship clove her way\nto the West. And the Fians, who were wont to be wakened by the\ntwittering of birds over their hunting booths in the greenwood, now\ndelighted to hear, day after day as they roused themselves at morn,\nthe lapping of the wide waters of the world against their vessel's\nbows, or the thunder of pounding surges when the wind blew hard.\n\nAt length after many days the sharpest-eyed of the men of Finn saw\nfar-off what seemed a mountain rising from the sea, and to it they\nshaped their course. When they had come to that land they found\nthemselves under the shadow of a great grey cliff, and beneath it\nslippery rocks covered with seaweed.\n\nThen Dermot, who was the most active of the company, was bidden to\nmount the cliff and to procure means of drawing up the rest of the\nparty, but of what land might lie on the top of that wall of rock none\nof them could discover anything. Dermot, descending from the ship,\nthen climbed with difficulty up the face of the cliff, while the\nothers made fast their ship among the rocks. But Dermot having arrived\nat the top saw no habitation of man, and could compass no way of\nhelping his companions to mount. He went therefore boldly forward into\nthe unknown land, hoping to obtain some help, if any friendly and\nhospitable folk could there be found.\n\n[Illustration: \"Dermot took the horn and would have filled it\"]\n\nBefore he had gone far he came into a wild wood, thick and tangled,\nand full of the noise of streams, and the sough of winds, and\ntwittering of birds, and hum of bees. After he had traversed this\nwilderness for a while he came to a mighty tree with densely\ninterwoven branches, and beneath it a pile of rocks, having on its\nsummit a pointed drinking horn wreathed with rich ornament, and at its\nfoot a well of pure bright water. Dermot, being now thirsty, took the\nhorn and would have filled it at the well, but as he stooped down to\ndo so he heard a loud, threatening murmur which seemed to rise from\nit. \"I perceive,\" he said to himself, \"that I am forbidden to drink\nfrom this well\" Nevertheless thirst compelled him, and he drank his\nfill.\n\nIn no long time thereafter he saw an armed warrior of hostile aspect\ncoming towards him through the wood. No courteous greeting did he give\nto Dermot, but began to revile him for roaming in his wood and\nwilderness, and for drinking his water. Thereupon they fought, and\nfor the rest of the afternoon they took and gave hard blows neither\nsubduing the other, till at last as darkness began to fall the warrior\nsuddenly dived into the well and was seen no more. Dermot, vexed at\nthis ending of the combat, then made him ready to spend the night in\nthat place, but first he slew a deer in the wood, and made a fire,\nwhereat he roasted pieces of the deer's flesh on spits of white hazel,\nand drank abundantly of the well-water, and then slept soundly through\nthe night.\n\nNext morning when he awakened and went to the well he found the\nChampion of the Well standing there and awaiting him. \"It is not\nenough, Dermot,\" said he angrily, \"for thee to traverse my woods at\nwill and to drink my water, but thou must even also slay my deer.\"\nThen they closed in combat again, and dealt each other blow for blow\nand wound for wound till evening parted them, and the champion dived\ninto the well as before.\n\nOn the third day it went even so; but as evening came on Dermot,\nwatching closely, rushed at the champion just as he was about to\nplunge into the well, and gripped him in his arms. But none the less\nthe Champion of the Well made his dive, and took down Dermot with him.\nAnd a darkness and faintness came over Dermot, but when he awoke, he\nfound himself in a wide, open country, flowery and fair, and before\nhim the walls and towers of a royal city. Thither the champion, sorely\nwounded, was now borne off, while a crowd of his people came round\nDermot, and beat and wounded him, leaving him on the ground for dead.\n\nAfter night had fallen, when all the people of the city in the Land\nUndersea had departed, a stalwart champion, well-armed and of bold\nappearance, came upon Dermot and stirred him with his foot. Dermot\nthereon awoke from his swoon and, warrior-like, reached out his hand\nfor his arms. But the champion said, \"Wait awhile, my son, I have not\ncome to do thee hurt or harm. Thou hast chosen an ill place to rest\nand slumber in, before the city of thine enemy. Rise and follow me,\nand I shall bestow thee far better than that.\" Dermot then rose and\nfollowed the champion, and long and far they journeyed until they came\nto a high-towered fortress, wherein were thrice fifty valiant\nmen-at-arms and fair women; and the daughter of that champion, a\nwhite-toothed, rosy-cheeked, smooth-handed, and black-eyebrowed maid,\nreceived Dermot, kindly and welcomefully, and applied healing herbs to\nhis wounds, and in no long time he was made as good a man as ever. And\nthus he remained, and was entertained most royally with the best of\nviands and of liquors. The first part of every night those in that D\u00fan\nwere wont to spend in feasting, and the second in recreation and\nentertainment of the mind, with music and with poetry and bardic\ntales, and the third part in sound and healthful slumber, till the sun\nin his fiery journey rose over the heavy-clodded earth on the morrow\nmorn.\n\nAnd the King of that country, who was the champion that had aroused\nDermot, told him this was the land of Sorca, and that he had showed\nthis kindness to Dermot for that he himself had once been on wage and\nservice with Finn, son of Cumhal \"and a better master,\" said he, \"man\nnever had.\"\n\nNow the story turns to tell of what befell Finn and the remainder of\nhis companions when Dermot left them in the ship. After a while,\nseeing that he did not return, and being assured that some mischief or\nhindrance must have befallen him, they made an attempt to climb the\ncliff after him, having noted which way he went. With much toil and\nperil they accomplished this, and then journeying forward and\nfollowing on Dermot's track, they came at last to the well in the wild\nwood, and saw near by the remains of the deer, and the ashes of the\nfire that Dermot had kindled to cook it. But from this place they\ncould discover no track of his going. While they were debating on what\nshould next be done, they saw riding towards them a tall warrior on a\ndark grey horse with a golden bridle, who greeted them courteously.\nFrom him they enquired as to whether he had seen aught of their\ncompanion, Dermot, in the wilderness. \"Follow me,\" said the warrior,\n\"and you shall shortly have tidings of him.\"\n\nThen they followed the strange horseman into the forest by many dark\nand winding ways, until at last they came into a rocky ravine, where\nthey found the mouth of a great cavern opening into the hillside.\nInto this they went, and the way led them downward until it seemed as\nif they were going into the bowels of the earth, until at last the\nlight began to shine round them, and they came out into a lovely land\nof flowery plains and green woods and singing streams. In no long time\nthereafter they came to a great royal D\u00fan, where he who led them was\nhailed as king and lord, and here, to their joy, they found their\ncomrade, Dermot of the Love Spot, who told them of all his adventures\nand heard from them of theirs. This ended, and when they had been\nentertained and refreshed, the lord of that place spoke to Finn and\nsaid:--\n\n\"I have now, O Finn, within my fortress the fifteen stoutest heroes\nthat the world holds. To this end have I brought you here, that ye\nmight make war with me upon mine enemy the Champion of the Well, who\nis king of the land bordering on mine, and who ceases not to persecute\nand to harry my people because, in his arrogance, he would have all\nthe Under World country subject to himself alone. Say now if ye will\nembrace this enterprise and help me to defend my own: and if not I\nshall set you again upon the land of Erinn.\"\n\nFinn said, \"What of my fifteen men that were carried away on the wild\nmare's back oversea?\" \"They are guarding the marches of my kingdom,\"\nsaid the King of Sorca, \"and all is well with them and shall be well.\"\n\nThen Finn agreed to take service with the King of Sorca, and next day\nthey arrayed themselves for fight and went out at the head of the\nhost. Ere long they came upon the army of the King of the Well, and\nwith him was the King of the Greeks and a band of fierce mercenaries,\nand also the daughter of the Greek King, by name Tasha of the White\nSide, a maiden who in beauty and grace surpassed all other women of\nthe world, as the Shannon surpasses all rivers of Erinn and the eagle\nsurpasses all birds of the air. Now the stories of Finn and his\ngenerosity and great deeds had reached her since she was a child, and\nshe had set her love on him, though she had never seen his face till\nnow.\n\nWhen the hosts were met, the King of the Greeks said, \"Who of my men\nwill stand forth and challenge the best of these men of Erinn to\nsingle combat that their metal may be proved, for to us it is unknown\nwhat manner of men they be.\" The son of the King of the Greeks said,\n\"I will go.\"\n\nSo on the side of Finn, Oscar, son of Ois\u00edn, was chosen to match the\nson of the Greek King, and the two hosts sat down peacefully together\nto watch the weapon-play. And Tasha the princess sat by Finn, son of\nCumhal.\n\nThen Oscar and the King's son stepped into their fighting place, and\nfierce was the combat that arose between them, as when two roaring\nsurges of the sea dash against each other in a fissure of the rocks,\nand the spray-cloud bursts from them high into the air. Long they\nfought, and many red wounds did each of them give and receive, till at\nlast Oscar beat the Greek prince to the earth and smote off his head.\nThen one host groaned for woe and discouragement, while the other\nshouted for joy of victory, and so they parted for the night, each to\ntheir own camp.\n\nAnd in the camp of the folk of Sorca they found Conan the Bald and the\nfourteen men that had gone with him on the mare's back.\n\nBut when night had fallen, Tasha stole from the wizard of the Greek\nKing his branch of silver bells that when shaken would lay asleep a\nhost of men, and with the aid of this she passed from the camp of the\nGreeks, and through the sentinels, and came to the tent of Finn.\n\nOn the morrow morn the King of the Greeks found that his daughter had\nfled to be the wife of Finn, son of Cumhal, and he offered a mighty\nreward to whosoever would slay Finn and bring Tasha back. But when the\ntwo armies closed in combat the Fians and the host of the King of\nSorca charged so fiercely home, that they drove their foes before them\nas a winter gale drives before it a cloud of madly whirling leaves,\nand those that were not slain in the fight and the pursuit went to\ntheir own lands and abode there in peace; and thus was the war ended\nof the King of Sorca and the Lord of the Well.\n\nThen the King of Sorca had Finn and his comrades before him and gave\nthem praise and thanks for their valour. \"And what reward,\" he said,\n\"will ye that I make you for the saving of the kingdom of Sorca?\"\n\n\"Thou wert in my service awhile,\" said Finn, \"and I mind not that I\npaid thee any wage for it. Let that service even go against this, and\nso we are quits.\"\n\n\"Nay, then,\" cried Conan the Bald, \"but what shall I have for my ride\non the mare of the Gilla Dacar?\"\n\n\"What wilt thou have?\" said the King of Sorca.\n\n\"This,\" said Conan, \"and nothing else will I accept. Let fourteen of\nthe fairest women of the land of Sorca be put on that same mare, and\nthy wife, O King, clinging to its tail, and let them be thus haled\nacross the sea until they come to Corcaguiny in the land of Erinn. I\nwill have none of thy gold and silver, but the indignity that has been\nput upon me doth demand an honourable satisfaction.\"\n\nThen the King of Sorca smiled, and he said, \"Behold thy men, Finn.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"'Follow me now to the Hill of Allen'\"]\n\nFinn turned his head to look round, and as he did so the plain and the\nencampment of the Fairy Host vanished from his sight, and he saw\nhimself standing on the shingly strand of a little bay, with rocky\nheights to right and left, crowned with yellow whin bushes whose\nperfume mingled with the salt sea wind. It was the spot where he had\nseen the Gilla Dacar and his mare take water on the coast of Kerry.\nFinn stared over the sea, to discover, if he might, by what means he\nhad come thither, but nothing could he see there save the sunlit\nwater, and nothing hear but what seemed a low laughter from the\ntwinkling ripples that broke at his feet. Then he looked for his men,\nwho stood there, dazed like himself and rubbing their eyes; and there\ntoo stood the Princess Tasha, who stretched out her white arms to him.\nFinn went over and took her hands. \"Shoulder your spears, good lads!\"\nhe called to his men. \"Follow me now to the Hill of Allen, and to the\nwedding feast of Tasha and of Finn mac Cumhal.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nThe Birth of Ois\u00edn\n\n\nOne day as Finn and his companions and dogs were returning from the\nchase to their D\u00fan on the Hill of Allen, a beautiful fawn started up\non their path and the chase swept after her, she taking the way which\nled to their home. Soon, all the pursuers were left far behind save\nonly Finn himself and his two hounds Bran and Sceolaun. Now these\nhounds were of strange breed, for Tyren, sister to Murna, the mother\nof Finn, had been changed into a hound by the enchantment of a woman\nof the Fairy Folk, who loved Tyren's husband Ullan; and the two hounds\nof Finn were the children of Tyren, born to her in that shape. Of all\nhounds in Ireland they were the best, and Finn loved them much, so\nthat it was said he wept but twice in his life, and once was for the\ndeath of Bran.\n\nAt last, as the chase went on down a valley side, Finn saw the fawn\nstop and lie down, while the two hounds began to play round her and to\nlick her face and limbs. So he gave commandment that none should hurt\nher, and she followed them to the D\u00fan of Allen, playing with the\nhounds as she went.\n\nThe same night Finn awoke and saw standing by his bed the fairest\nwoman his eyes had ever beheld.\n\n\"I am Saba, O Finn,\" she said, \"and I was the fawn ye chased to-day.\nBecause I would not give my love to the Druid of the Fairy Folk, who\nis named the Dark, he put that shape upon me by his sorceries, and I\nhave borne it these three years. But a slave of his, pitying me, once\nrevealed to me that if I could win to thy great D\u00fan of Allen, O Finn,\nI should be safe from all enchantments and my natural shape would come\nto me again. But I feared to be torn in pieces by thy dogs, or wounded\nby thy hunters, till at last I let myself be overtaken by thee alone\nand by Bran and Sceolaun, who have the nature of man and would do me\nno hurt.\" \"Have no fear, maiden,\" said Finn, \"we the Fianna, are free\nand our guest-friends are free; there is none who shall put compulsion\non you here.\"\n\nSo Saba dwelt with Finn, and he made her his wife; and so deep was his\nlove for her that neither the battle nor the chase had any delight for\nhim, and for months he never left her side. She also loved him as\ndeeply, and their joy in each other was like that of the Immortals in\nthe Land of Youth. But at last word came to Finn that the warships of\nthe Northmen were in the bay of Dublin, and he summoned his heroes to\nthe fight, \"for,\" said he to Saba, \"the men of Erinn give us tribute\nand hospitality to defend them from the foreigner, and it were shame\nto take it from them and not to give that to which we, on our side,\nare pledged.\" And he called to mind that great saying of Goll mac\nMorna when they were once sore bested by a mighty host--\"a man,\" said\nGoll, \"lives after his life but not after his honour.\"\n\nSeven days was Finn absent, and he drove the Northmen from the shores\nof Erinn. But on the eighth day he returned, and when he entered his\nD\u00fan he saw trouble in the eyes of his men and of their fair womenfolk,\nand Saba was not on the rampart expecting his return. So he bade them\ntell him what had chanced, and they said--\n\n\"Whilst thou, our father and lord, wert afar off smiting the\nforeigner, and Saba looking ever down the pass for thy return, we saw\none day as it were the likeness of thee approaching, and Bran and\nSceolaun at thy heels. And we seemed also to hear the notes of the\nFian hunting call blown on the wind. Then Saba hastened to the great\ngate, and we could not stay her, so eager was she to rush to the\nphantom. But when she came near, she halted and gave a loud and bitter\ncry, and the shape of thee smote her with a hazel wand, and lo, there\nwas no woman there any more, but a deer. Then those hounds chased it,\nand ever as it strove to reach again the gate of the D\u00fan they turned\nit back. We all now seized what arms we could and ran out to drive\naway the enchanter, but when we reached the place there was nothing to\nbe seen, only still we heard the rushing of flying feet and the baying\nof dogs, and one thought it came from here, and another from there,\ntill at last the uproar died away and all was still. What we could do,\nO Finn, we did; Saba is gone.\"\n\nFinn then struck his hand on his breast but spoke no word, and he went\nto his own chamber. No man saw him for the rest of that day, nor for\nthe day after. Then he came forth, and ordered the matters of the\nFianna as of old, but for seven years thereafter he went searching for\nSaba through every remote glen and dark forest and cavern of Ireland,\nand he would take no hounds with him save Bran and Sceolaun. But at\nlast he renounced all hope of finding her again, and went hunting as\nof old. One day as he was following the chase on Ben Gulban in Sligo,\nhe heard the musical bay of the dogs change of a sudden to a fierce\ngrowling and yelping as though they were in combat with some beast,\nand running hastily up he and his men beheld, under a great tree, a\nnaked boy with long hair, and around him the hounds struggling to\nseize him, but Bran and Sceolaun fighting with them and keeping them\noff. And the lad was tall and shapely, and as the heroes gathered\nround he gazed undauntedly on them, never heeding the rout of dogs at\nhis feet. The Fians beat off the dogs and brought the lad home with\nthem, and Finn was very silent and continually searched the lad's\ncountenance with his eyes. In time, the use of speech came to him, and\nthe story that he told was this:--\n\nHe had known no father, and no mother save a gentle hind with whom he\nlived in a most green and pleasant valley shut in on every side by\ntowering cliffs that could not be scaled, or by deep chasms in the\nearth. In the summer he lived on fruits and such-like, and in the\nwinter, store of provisions was laid for him in a cave. And there came\nto them sometimes a tall dark-visaged man, who spoke to his mother,\nnow tenderly, and now in loud menace, but she always shrunk away in\nfear, and the man departed in anger. At last there came a day when the\nDark Man spoke very long with his mother in all tones of entreaty and\nof tenderness and of rage, but she would still keep aloof and give no\nsign save of fear and abhorrence. Then at length the Dark Man drew\nnear and smote her with a hazel wand; and with that he turned and went\nhis way, but she, this time, followed him, still looking back at her\nson and piteously complaining. And he, when he strove to follow, found\nhimself unable to move a limb; and crying out with rage and desolation\nhe fell to the earth and his senses left him. When he came to himself\nhe was on the mountain side, on Ben Gulban, where he remained some\ndays, searching for that green and hidden valley, which he never found\nagain. And after a while the dogs found him; but of the hind his\nmother and of the Dark Druid, there is no man knows the end.\n\nFinn called his name Ois\u00edn, and he became a warrior of fame, but far\nmore famous for the songs and tales that he made; so that of all\nthings to this day that are told of the Fianna of Erinn, men are wont\nto say, \"So sang the bard, Ois\u00edn, son of Finn.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nOis\u00edn in the Land of Youth\n\n\nIt happened that on a misty summer morning as Finn and Ois\u00edn with many\ncompanions were hunting on the shores of Loch Lena they saw coming\ntowards them a maiden, beautiful exceedingly, riding on a snow-white\nsteed. She wore the garb of a queen; a crown of gold was on her head,\nand a dark brown mantle of silk, set with stars of red gold, fell\naround her and trailed on the ground. Silver shoes were on her horse's\nhoofs, and a crest of gold nodded on his head. When she came near she\nsaid to Finn, \"From very far away I have come, and now at last I have\nfound thee, Finn, son of Cumhal.\"\n\nThen Finn said, \"What is thy land and race, maiden, and what dost thou\nseek from me?\"\n\n\"My name,\" she said, \"is Niam of the Golden Hair. I am the daughter of\nthe King of the Land of Youth, and that which has brought me here is\nthe love of thy son Ois\u00edn.\" Then she turned to Ois\u00edn and she spoke to\nhim in the voice of one who has never asked anything but it was\ngranted to her, \"Wilt thou go with me, Ois\u00edn, to my father's land?\"\n\nAnd Ois\u00edn said, \"That will I, and to the world's end\"; for the fairy\nspell had so wrought upon his heart that he cared no more for any\nearthly thing but to have the love of Niam of the Head of Gold.\n\nThen the maiden spoke of the Land Oversea to which she had summoned\nher lover, and as she spoke a dreamy stillness fell on all things, nor\ndid a horse shake his bit nor a hound bay, nor the least breath of\nwind stir in the forest trees till she had made an end. And what she\nsaid seemed sweeter and more wonderful as she spoke it than anything\nthey could afterwards remember to have heard, but so far as they could\nremember it, it was this:--\n\n   \"Delightful is the land beyond all dreams,\n   Fairer than aught thine eyes have ever seen.\n   There all the year the fruit is on the tree,\n   And all the year the bloom is on the flower.\n\n   \"There with wild honey drip the forest trees;\n   The stores of wine and mead shall never fail.\n   Nor pain nor sickness knows the dweller there,\n   Death and decay come near him never more.\n\n   \"The feast shall cloy not, nor the chase shall tire,\n   Nor music cease for ever through the hall;\n   The gold and jewels of the Land of Youth\n   Outshine all splendours ever dreamed by man.\n\n   \"Thou shalt have horses of the fairy breed,\n   Thou shalt have hounds that can outrun the wind;\n   A hundred chiefs shall follow thee in war,\n   A hundred maidens sing thee to thy sleep.\n\n   \"A crown of sovranty thy brow shall wear,\n   And by thy side a magic blade shall hang.\n   Thou shalt be lord of all the Land of Youth,\n   And lord of Niam of the Head of Gold.\"\n\nAs the magic song ended, the Fians beheld Ois\u00edn mount the fairy steed\nand hold the maiden in his arms, and ere they could stir or speak she\nturned her horse's head and shook the ringing bridle and down the\nforest glade they fled, as a beam of light flies over the land when\nclouds drive across the sun; and never did the Fianna behold Ois\u00edn,\nson of Finn, on earth again.\n\nYet what befell him afterwards is known. As his birth was strange so\nwas his end, for he saw the wonders of the Land of Youth with mortal\neyes and lived to tell them with mortal lips.\n\nWhen the white horse with its riders reached the sea it ran lightly\nover the waves and soon the green woods and headlands of Erinn faded\nout of sight. And now the sun shone fiercely down, and the riders\npassed into a golden haze in which Ois\u00edn lost all knowledge of where\nhe was or if sea or dry land were beneath his horse's hoofs. But\nstrange sights sometimes appeared to them in the mist, for towers and\npalace gateways loomed up and disappeared, and once a hornless doe\nbounded by them chased by a white hound with one red ear, and again\nthey saw a young maid ride by on a brown steed, bearing a golden apple\nin her hand, and close behind her followed a young horseman on a white\nsteed, a purple cloak floating at his back and a gold-hilted sword in\nhis hand. And Ois\u00edn would have asked the princess who and what these\napparitions were, but Niam bade him ask nothing nor seem to notice any\nphantom they might see until they were come to the Land of Youth.\n\n[Illustration: \"They rode up to a stately palace\"]\n\nAt last the sky gloomed above them, and Niam urged their steed faster.\nThe wind lashed them with pelting rain, thunder roared across the sea\nand lightning blazed, but they held on their way till at length they\ncame once more into a region of calm and sunshine. And now Ois\u00edn saw\nbefore him a shore of yellow sand, lapped by the ripples of a summer\nsea. Inland, there rose before his eye wooded hills amid which he\ncould discern the roofs and towers of a noble city. The white horse\nbore them swiftly to the shore and Ois\u00edn and the maiden lighted down.\nAnd Ois\u00edn marvelled at everything around him, for never was water so\nblue or trees so stately as those he saw, and the forest was alive\nwith the hum of bees and the song of birds, and the creatures that are\nwild in other lands, the deer and the red squirrel and the wood-dove,\ncame, without fear, to be caressed. Soon, as they went forward, the\nwalls of a city came in sight, and folk began to meet them on the\nroad, some riding, some afoot, all of whom were either youths or\nmaidens, all looking as joyous as if the morning of happy life had\njust begun for them, and no old or feeble person was to be seen. Niam\nled her companion through a towered gateway built of white and red\nmarble, and there they were met by a glittering company of a hundred\nriders on black steeds and a hundred on white, and Ois\u00edn mounted a\nblack horse and Niam her white, and they rode up to a stately palace\nwhere the King of the Land of Youth had his dwelling. And there he\nreceived them, saying in a loud voice that all the folk could hear,\n\"Welcome, Ois\u00edn, son of Finn. Thou art come to the Land of Youth,\nwhere sorrow and weariness and death shall never touch thee. This thou\nhast won by thy faithfulness and valour and by the songs that thou\nhast made for the men of Erinn, whereof the fame is come to us, for we\nhave here indeed all things that are delightful and joyous, but poesy\nalone we had not. But now we have the chief poet of the race of men to\nlive with us, immortal among immortals, and the fair and cloudless\nlife that we lead here shall be praised in verses as fair; even as\nthou, Ois\u00edn, did'st praise and adorn the short and toilsome and\nchequered life that men live in the world thou hast left forever. And\nNiam my daughter shall be thy bride, and thou shalt be in all things\neven as myself in the Land of Youth.\"\n\nThen the heart of Ois\u00edn was filled with glory and joy, and he turned\nto Niam and saw her eyes burn with love as she gazed upon him. And\nthey were wedded the same day, and the joy they had in each other grew\nsweeter and deeper with every day that passed. All that Niam had\npromised in her magic song in the wild wood when first they met,\nseemed faint beside the splendour and beauty of the life in the Land\nof Youth. In the great palace they trod on silken carpets and ate off\nplates of gold; the marble walls and doorways were wrought with carved\nwork, or hung with tapestries, where forest glades, and still lakes,\nand flying deer were done in colours of unfading glow. Sunshine bathed\nthat palace always, and cool winds wandered through its dim corridors,\nand in its courts there played fountains of bright water set about\nwith flowers. When Ois\u00edn wished to ride, a steed of fiery but gentle\ntemper bore him wherever he would through the pleasant land; when he\nlonged to hear music, there came upon his thought, as though borne on\nthe wind, crystal notes such as no hand ever struck from the strings\nof any harp on earth.\n\nBut Ois\u00edn's hand now never touched the harp, and the desire of singing\nand of making poetry never waked in him, for no one thing seemed so\nmuch better than the rest, where all perfection bloomed and glowed\naround him, as to make him long to praise it and to set it apart.\n\nWhen seven days had passed, he said to Niam, \"I would fain go\na-hunting.\" Niam said, \"So be it, dear love; to-morrow we shall take\norder for that.\" Ois\u00edn lay long awake that night, thinking of the\nsound of Finn's hunting-horn, and of the smell of green boughs when\nthey kindled them to roast the deer-flesh in Fian ovens in the\nwildwood.\n\nSo next day Ois\u00edn and Niam fared forth on horseback, with their\ncompany of knights and maidens, and dogs leaping and barking with\neagerness for the chase. Anon they came to the forest, and the hunters\nwith the hounds made a wide circuit on this side and on that, till at\nlast the loud clamour of the hounds told that a stag was on foot, and\nOis\u00edn saw them streaming down an open glen, the stag with its great\nantlers laid back and flying like the wind. So he shouted the Fian\nhunting-cry and rode furiously on their track. All day long they\nchased the stag through the echoing forest, and the fairy steed bore\nhim unfaltering over rough ground and smooth, till at last as darkness\nbegan to fall the quarry was pulled down, and Ois\u00edn cut its throat\nwith his hunting-knife. Long it seemed to him since he had felt glad\nand weary as he felt now, and since the woodland air with its odours\nof pine and mint and wild garlic had tasted so sweet in his mouth; and\ntruly it was longer than he knew. But when he bade make ready the\nwood-oven for their meal, and build a bothy of boughs for their\nrepose, Niam led him seven steps apart and seven to the left hand, and\nyet seven back to the place where they had killed the deer, and lo,\nthere rose before him a stately D\u00fan with litten windows and smoke\ndrifting above its roof. When they entered, there was a table spread\nfor a great company, and cooks and serving-men busy about a wide\nhearth where roast and boiled meats of every sort were being prepared.\nCasks of Greek wine stood open around the walls, and cups of gold were\non the board. So they all ate and drank their sufficiency, and all\nnight Ois\u00edn and Niam slept on a bed softer than swans-down in a\nchamber no less fair than that which they had in the City of the Land\nof Youth.\n\nNext day, at the first light of dawn, they were on foot; and soon\nagain the forest rang to the baying of hounds and the music of the\nhunting-horn. Ois\u00edn's steed bore him all day, tireless and swift as\nbefore, and again the quarry fell at night's approach, and again a\npalace rose in the wilderness for their night's entertainment, and all\nthings in it even more abundant and more sumptuous than before. And so\nfor seven days they fared in that forest, and seven stags were slain.\nThen Ois\u00edn grew wearied of hunting, and as he plunged his sharp black\nhunting-knife into the throat of the last stag, he thought of the\nsword of magic temper that hung idle by his side in the City of Youth,\nor rested from its golden nail in his bed-chamber, and he said to\nNiam, \"Has thy father never a foe to tame, never a wrong to avenge?\nSurely the peasant is no man whose hand forgets the plough, nor the\nwarrior whose hand forgets the sword hilt.\" Niam looked on him\nstrangely for a while and as if she did not understand his words, or\nsought some meaning in them which yet she feared to find. But at last\nshe said, \"If deeds of arms be thy desire, Ois\u00edn, thou shalt have thy\nsufficiency ere long.\" And so they rode home, and slept that night in\nthe palace of the City of Youth.\n\nAt daybreak on the following morn Niam roused Ois\u00edn, and she buckled\non him his golden-hilted sword and his corselet of blue steel inlaid\nwith gold. Then he put on his head a steel and gold helmet with dragon\ncrest, and slung on his back a shield of bronze wrought all over with\ncunning hammer-work of serpentine lines that swelled and sank upon the\nsurface, and coiled in mazy knots, or flowed in long sweeping curves\nlike waves of the sea when they gather might and volume for their leap\nupon the sounding shore. In the glimmering dawn, through the empty\nstreets of the fair city, they rode forth alone and took their way\nthrough fields of corn and by apple orchards where red fruit hung down\nto their hands. But by noontide their way began to mount upwards among\nblue hills that they had marked from the city walls toward the west,\nand of man's husbandry they saw no more, but tall red-stemmed pine\ntrees bordered the way on either side, and silence and loneliness\nincreased. At length they reached a broad table-land deep in the heart\nof the mountains, where nothing grew but long coarse grass, drooping\nby pools of black and motionless water, and where great boulders,\nbleached white or stained with slimy lichens of livid red, lay\nscattered far and wide about the plain. Against the sky the mountain\nline now showed like a threat of bared and angry teeth, and as they\nrode towards it Ois\u00edn perceived a huge fortress lying in the throat of\na wide glen or mountain pass. White as death was the stone of which it\nwas built, save where it was streaked with black or green from the\nfoulness of wet mosses that clung to its cornices and battlements, and\nnone seemed stirring about the place nor did any banner blow from its\ntowers.\n\nThen said Niam, \"This, O Ois\u00edn, is the D\u00fan of the giant Fovor of the\nMighty Blows. In it he keeps prisoner a princess of the Fairy Folk\nwhom he would fain make his bride, but he may not do so, nor may she\nescape, until Fovor has met in battle a champion who will undertake\nher cause. Approach, then, to the gate, if thou art fain to undertake\nthis adventure, and blow the horn which hangs thereby, and then look\nto thy weapons, for soon indeed will the battle be broken upon thee.\"\n\nThen Ois\u00edn rode to the gate and thrice he blew on the great horn which\nhung by it, and the clangour of it groaned drearily back from the\ncliffs that overhung the glen. Not thus indeed sounded the _Dord_ of\nFinn as its call blew lust of fighting and scorn of death into the\nhearts of the Fianna amid the stress of battle. At the third blast the\nrusty gates opened, grinding on their hinges, and Ois\u00edn rode into a\nwide courtyard where servitors of evil aspect took his horse and\nNiam's, and led them into the hall of Fovor. Dark it was and low, with\nmouldering arras on its walls, and foul and withered rushes on the\nfloor, where dogs gnawed the bones thrown to them at the last meal,\nand spilt ale and hacked fragments of flesh littered the bare oaken\ntable. And here rose languidly to greet them a maiden bound with seven\nchains, to whom Niam spoke lovingly, saying that her champion was come\nand that her long captivity should end. And the maiden looked upon\nOis\u00edn, whose proud bearing and jewelled armour made the mean place\nseem meaner still, and a light of hope and of joy seemed to glimmer\nupon her brow. So she gave them refreshment as she could, and\nafterwards they betook them once more to the courtyard, where the\nplace of battle was set.\n\nHere, at the further side, stood a huge man clad in rusty armour, who\nwhen he saw Ois\u00edn rushed upon him, silent and furious, and swinging a\ngreat battleaxe in his hand. But doubt and langour weighed upon\nOis\u00edn's heart, and it seemed to him as if he were in an evil dream,\nwhich he knew was but a dream, and would be less than nothing when the\nhour of awakening should come. Yet he raised his shield and gripped\nthe fairy sword, striving to shout the Fian battle-cry as he closed\nwith Fovor. But soon a heavy blow smote him to the ground, and his\narmour clanged harshly on the stones. Then a cloud seemed to pass from\nhis spirit, and he leaped to his feet quicker than an arrow flies from\nthe string, and thrusting fiercely at the giant his sword-point gashed\nthe under side of Fovor's arm when it was raised to strike, and Ois\u00edn\nsaw his enemy's blood. Then the fight raged hither and thither about\nthe wide courtyard, with trampling of feet and clash of steel and\nringing of armour and shouts of onset as the heroes closed; Ois\u00edn,\nagile as a wild stag, evading the sweep of the mighty axe and rushing\nin with flickering blade at every unguarded moment, his whole soul\nbent on one fierce thought, to drive his point into some gap at\nshoulder or neck in Fovor's coat of mail. At length, when both were\nweary and wounded men, with hacked and battered armour, Ois\u00edn's blade\ncut the thong of Fovor's headpiece and it fell clattering to the\nground. Another blow laid the giant prostrate, and Ois\u00edn leaned, dizzy\nand panting, upon his sword, while Fovor's serving-men took off their\nmaster in a litter, and Niam came to aid her lord. Then Ois\u00edn stripped\noff his armour in the great hall, and Niam tended to his wounds,\nhealing them with magic herbs and murmured incantations, and they saw\nthat one of the seven rusty chains that had bound the princess hung\nloose from its iron staple in the wall.\n\nAll night long Ois\u00edn lay in deep and healing slumber, and next day he\narose, whole and strong, and hot to renew the fray. And the giant was\nlikewise healed and his might and fierceness returned to him. So they\nfought till they were breathless and weary, and then to it again, and\nagain, till in the end Ois\u00edn drove his sword to the hilt in the\ngiant's shoulder where it joins the collar bone, and he fell aswoon,\nand was borne away as before. And another chain of the seven fell from\nthe girdle of the captive maiden.\n\nThus for seven days went on the combat, and Ois\u00edn had seven nights of\nhealing and rest, with the tenderness and beauty of Niam about his\ncouch; and on the seventh day the maiden was free, and her folk\nbrought her away, rejoicing, with banners and with music that made a\nbrightness for a while in that forlorn and evil place.\n\nBut Ois\u00edn's heart was high with pride and victory, and a longing\nuprose in his heart with a rush like a springtide for the days when\nsome great deed had been done among the Fianna, and the victors were\nhailed and lauded by the home-folk in the D\u00fan of Allen, men and women\nleaving their toil or their pleasure to crowd round the heroes, and to\nquestion again and again, and to learn each thing that had passed; and\nthe bards noting all to weave it into a glorious tale for after days;\nand more than all the smile and the look of Finn as he learned how his\nchildren had borne themselves in the face of death. And so Ois\u00edn said\nto Niam, \"Let me, for a short while, return to the land of Erinn, that\nI may see there my friends and kin and tell them of the glory and joy\nthat are mine in the Land of Youth.\" But Niam wept and laid her white\narms about his neck, entreating him to think no more of the sad world\nwhere all men live and move under a canopy of death, and where summer\nis slain by winter, and youth by old age, and where love itself, if it\ndie not by falsehood and wrong, perishes many a time of too complete\na joy. But Ois\u00edn said, \"The world of men compared with thy world is\nlike this dreary waste compared with the city of thy father; yet in\nthat city, Niam, none is better or worse than another, and I hunger to\ntell my tale to ignorant and feeble folk that my words can move, as\nwords of mine have done of old, to wonder and delight. Then I shall\nreturn to thee, Niam, and to thy fair and blissful land; and having\nbrought over to mortal men a tale that never man has told before, I\nshall be happy and at peace for ever in the Land of Youth.\"\n\nSo they fared back to the golden city, and next day Niam brought to\nOis\u00edn the white steed that had borne them from Erinn, and bade him\nfarewell. \"This our steed,\" she said, \"will carry thee across the sea\nto the land where I found thee, and whithersoever thou wilt, and what\nfolk are there thou shalt see, and what tale thou hast to tell can be\ntold. But never for even a moment must thou alight from his back, for\nif thy foot once touch again the soil of earth, thou shalt never win\nto me and to the Land of Youth again. And sorely do I fear some evil\nchance. Was not the love of Niam of the Head of Gold enough to fill a\nmortal's heart? But if thou must go, then go, and blessing and victory\nbe thine.\"\n\nThen Ois\u00edn held her long in his arms and kissed her, and vowed to make\nno long stay and never to alight from the fairy steed. And then he\nshook the golden reins and the horse threw its head aloft and snorted\nand bore him away in a pace like that of flowing water for speed and\nsmoothness. Anon they came to the margin of the blue sea, and still\nthe white steed galloped on, brushing the crests of the waves into\nglittering spray. The sun glared upon the sea and Ois\u00edn's head swam\nwith the heat and motion, and in mist and dreams he rode where no day\nwas, nor night, nor any thought of time, till at last his horse's\nhoofs ploughed through wet, yellow sands, and he saw black rocks\nrising up at each side of a little bay, and inland were fields green\nor brown, and white cottages thatched with reeds, and men and women,\ntoil-worn and clad in earth-coloured garments, went to and fro about\ntheir tasks or stopped gazing at the rider in his crimson cloak and at\nthe golden trappings of his horse. But among the cottages was a small\nhouse of stone such as Ois\u00edn had never seen in the land of Erinn;\nstone was its roof as well as the walls, very steep and high, and\nnear-by from a rude frame of timber there hung a bell of bronze. Into\nthis house there passed one whom from his shaven crown Ois\u00edn guessed\nto be a druid, and behind him two lads in white apparel. The druid\nhaving seen the horseman turned his eyes again to the ground and\npassed on, regarding him not, and the lads did likewise. And Ois\u00edn\nrode on, eager to reach the D\u00fan upon the Hill of Allen and to see the\nfaces of his kin and his friends.\n\n[Illustration: \"The white steed had vanished from their eyes like a\nwreath of mist\"]\n\nAt length, coming from the forest path into the great clearing where\nthe Hill of Allen was wont to rise broad and green, with its rampart\nenclosing many white-walled dwellings, and the great hall towering\nhigh in the midst, he saw but grassy mounds overgrown with rank weeds\nand whin bushes, and among them pastured a peasant's kine.\n\nThen a strange horror fell upon him, and he thought some enchantment\nfrom the land of Faery held his eyes and mocked him with false\nvisions. He threw his arms abroad and shouted the names of Finn and\nOscar, but none replied, and he thought that perchance the hounds\nmight hear him, and he cried upon Bran and Sceolaun, and strained his\nears if they might catch the faintest rustle or whisper of the world\nfrom the sight of which his eyes were holden, but he heard only the\nsigh of the wind in the whins. Then he rode in terror from that place,\nsetting his face towards the eastern sea, for he meant to traverse\nIreland from side to side and end to end in the search of some escape\nfrom his enchantment. But when he came near to the eastern sea and was\nnow in the place which is called the Valley of the Thrushes,[24] he\nsaw in a field upon the hillside a crowd of men striving to roll aside\na great boulder from their tilled land, and an overseer directing\nthem. Towards them he rode, meaning to ask them concerning Finn and\nthe Fianna. As he came near, they all stopped their work to gaze upon\nhim, for to them he appeared like a messenger of the Fairy Folk or an\nangel from heaven. Taller and mightier he was than the men-folk they\nknew, with sword-blue eyes and brown ruddy cheeks; in his mouth, as\nit were, a shower of pearls, and bright hair clustered beneath the rim\nof his helmet. And as Ois\u00edn looked upon their puny forms, marred by\ntoil and care, and at the stone which they feebly strove to heave from\nits bed, he was filled with pity, and thought to himself, \"not such\nwere even the churls of Erinn when I left them for the Land of Youth,\"\nand he stooped from his saddle to help them. His hand he set to the\nboulder, and with a mighty heave he lifted it from where it lay and\nset it rolling down the hill. And the men raised a shout of wonder and\napplause, but their shouting changed in a moment into cries of terror\nand dismay, and they fled, jostling and overthrowing each other to\nescape from the place of fear; for a marvel horrible to see had taken\nplace. For Ois\u00edn's saddle-girth had burst as he heaved the stone, and\nhe fell headlong to the ground. In an instant the white steed had\nvanished from their eyes like a wreath of mist, and that which rose,\nfeeble and staggering, from the ground was no youthful warrior but a\nman stricken with extreme old age, white-bearded and withered, who\nstretched out groping hands and moaned with feeble and bitter cries.\nAnd his crimson cloak and yellow silken tunic were now but coarse\nhomespun stuff tied with a hempen girdle, and the gold-hilted sword\nwas a rough oaken staff such as a beggar carries who wanders the roads\nfrom farmer's house to house.\n\n   [24] Glanismole, near Dublin.\n\nWhen the people saw that the doom that had been wrought was not for\nthem they returned, and found the old man prone on the ground with\nhis face hidden in his arms. So they lifted him up and asked who he\nwas and what had befallen him. Ois\u00edn gazed round on them with dim\neyes, and at last he said, \"I was Ois\u00edn the son of Finn, and I pray ye\ntell me where he now dwells, for his D\u00fan on the Hill of Allen is now a\ndesolation, and I have neither seen him nor heard his hunting horn\nfrom the Western to the Eastern Sea.\" Then the men gazed strangely on\neach other and on Ois\u00edn, and the overseer asked, \"Of what Finn dost\nthou speak, for there be many of that name in Erinn?\" Ois\u00edn said,\n\"Surely of Finn mac Cumhal mac Trenmor, captain of the Fianna of\nErinn.\" Then the overseer said, \"Thou art daft, old man, and thou hast\nmade us daft to take thee for a youth as we did a while agone. But we\nat least have now our wits again, and we know that Finn son of Cumhal\nand all his generation have been dead these three hundred years. At\nthe battle of Gowra fell Oscar, son of Ois\u00edn, and Finn at the battle\nof Brea, as the historians tell us; and the lays of Ois\u00edn, whose death\nno man knows the manner of, are sung by our harpers at great men's\nfeasts. But now the Talkenn,[25] Patrick, has come into Ireland and\nhas preached to us the One God and Christ His Son, by whose might\nthese old days and ways are done away with, and Finn and his Fianna,\nwith their feasting and hunting and songs of war and of love, have no\nsuch reverence among us as the monks and virgins of holy Patrick, and\nthe psalms and prayers that go up daily to cleanse us from sin and to\nsave us from the fire of judgment.\" But Ois\u00edn replied, half hearing\nand still less comprehending what was said to him, \"If thy God have\nslain Finn and Oscar, I would say that God is a strong man.\" Then they\nall cried out upon him, and some picked up stones, but the overseer\nbade them let him be until the Talkenn had spoken with him, and till\nhe should order what was to be done.\n\n   [25] Talkenn or \"Adze-head\" was a name given to St Patrick by\n   the Irish. Probably it referred to the shape of his tonsure.\n\nSo they brought him to Patrick, who entreated him gently and\nhospitably, and to Patrick he told the story of all that had befallen\nhim. But Patrick bade his scribes write all carefully down, that the\nmemory of the heroes whom Ois\u00edn had known, and of the joyous and free\nlife they had led in the woods and glens and wild places of Erinn,\nshould never be forgotten among men. And Ois\u00edn, during the short span\nof life that yet remained to him, told to Patrick many tales of the\nFianna and their deeds, but of the three hundred years that he had\nspent with Niam in the Land of Youth he rarely spoke, for they seemed\nto him but as a vision or a dream of the night, set between a sunny\nand a rainy day.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HISTORY OF KING CORMAC\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\n\nI\n\nTHE BIRTH OF CORMAC\n\nOf all the kings that ruled over Ireland, none had a better and more\nloyal servant than was Finn mac Cumhal, and of all the captains and\ncounsellors of kings none ever served a more glorious and a nobler\nmonarch than did Finn, for the time that he served Cormac, son of Art,\nson of Conn of the Hundred Battles. At the time at which this monarch\nlived and reigned, the mist of sixteen centuries hangs between us and\nthe history of Ireland, but through this mist there shine a few great\nand sunlike figures whose glory cannot be altogether hidden, and of\nthese figures Cormac is the greatest and the brightest. Much that is\ntold about him may be true, and much is certainly fable, but the\nfables themselves are a witness to his greatness; they are like forms\nseen in the mist when a great light is shining behind it, and we\ncannot always say when we are looking at the true light and when at\nthe reflected glory.\n\nThe birth of Cormac was on this wise. His father, as we have said, was\nArt, son of Conn, and his mother was named Achta, being the daughter\nof a famous smith or ironworker of Connacht. Now before the birth of\nCormac, Achta had a strange dream, namely, that her head was struck\noff from her body and that out of her neck there grew a great tree\nwhich extended its branches over all Ireland and flourished\nexceedingly, but a huge wave of the sea burst upon it and laid it low.\nThen from the roots of this tree there grew up another, but it did not\nattain the splendour of the first, and a blast of wind came from the\nWest and overthrew it. On this the woman started from her sleep, and\nshe woke her husband, Art, and told him her vision. \"It is a true\ndream,\" said Art. \"I am thy head, and this portends that I shall be\nviolently taken from thee. But thou shalt bear me a son who shall be\nKing of all Ireland, and shall rule with great power and glory until\nsome disaster from the sea overtake him. But from him shall come yet\nanother king, my grandson and thine, who shall also be cut down, and I\nthink that the cause of his fall shall be the armies of the Fian host,\nwho are swift and keen as the wind.\"\n\nNot long thereafter Art, son of Conn, fell in battle with the Picts\nand Britons at the Plain of the Swine, which is between Athenry and\nGalway in Connacht. Now the leader of the invaders then was mac Con, a\nnephew to Art, who had been banished out of Ireland for rising against\nthe High King; and when he had slain Art he seized the sovranty of\nIreland and reigned there unlawfully for many years.\n\nBut before the battle, Art had counselled his wife:\n\n\"If things go ill with us in the fight, and I am slain, seek out my\nfaithful friend Luna who dwells in Corann in Connacht, and he will\nprotect thee till thy son be born.\" So Achta, with one maid, fled in\nher chariot before the host of mac Con and sought to go to the D\u00fan of\nLuna. On her way thither, however, the hour came when her child should\nbe born, and the maid turned the chariot aside into the wild wood at\nthe place called Creevagh (the Place of the Twigs), and there, on a\ncouch of twigs and leaves, she gave birth to a noble son.\n\nThen Achta, when she had cherished her boy and rejoiced over him, bade\nher handmaid keep watch over both of them, and they fell asleep. But\nthe maid's eyes were heavy with weariness and long travelling, and ere\nlong she, too, was overpowered by slumber, and all three slept a deep\nsleep while the horses wandered away grazing through the wood.\n\nBy and by there came a she-wolf roaming through the wood in search of\nprey for her whelps, and it came upon the sleeping woman and the\nlittle child. It did not wake the woman, but very softly it picked up\nthe infant and bore it off to the stony cave that is hard by to\nCreevagh in the hill that was afterwards called Mount Cormac.\n\nAfter a while the mother waked up and found her child gone. Then she\nuttered a lamentable cry, and woke her handmaid, and both the women\nsearched hither and thither, but no trace of the child could they\nfind; and thus Luna found them; for he had heard news of the battle\nand the death of his King, and he had come to succour Achta as he had\npledged his word to do. Luna and his men also made search for the\ninfant, but in vain; and at last he conveyed the two sorrowing women\nto his palace; but Achta was somewhat comforted by her prophetic\ndream. Luna then proclaimed that whoever should discover the King's\nson, if he were yet alive, might claim of him what reward he would.\n\nAnd so the time passed, till one day a man named Grec, a clansman of\nLuna the lord of Corann, as he ranged the woods hunting, came on a\nstony cavern in the side of a hill, and before it he saw wolf-cubs at\nplay, and among them a naked child on all fours gambolling with them,\nand a great she-wolf that mothered them all. \"Right,\" cried Grec, and\noff he goes to Luna his lord. \"What wilt thou give me for the King's\nson?\" said he. \"What wilt thou have?\" said Luna. So Grec asked for\ncertain lands, and Luna bound himself to give them to him and to his\nposterity, and there lived and flourished the Clan Gregor for many a\ngeneration to come. So Luna, guided by Grec, went to the cave on Mount\nCormac, and took the child and the wolf-cubs all together and brought\nthem home. And the child they called Cormac, or the Chariot-Child. Now\nthe lad grew up very comely and strong, and he abode with Luna in\nConnacht, and no one told him of his descent.\n\n\nII\n\nTHE JUDGMENT OF CORMAC\n\nOnce upon a time it happened that Cormac was at play with the two sons\nof Luna, and the lads grew angry in their play and came to blows, and\nCormac struck one of them to the ground. \"Sorrow on it,\" cried the\nlad, \"here I have been beaten by one that knows not his clan or\nkindred, save that he is a fellow without a father.\" When Cormac heard\nthat he was troubled and ashamed, and he went to Luna and told him\nwhat had been said.\n\nAnd Luna seeing the trouble of the youth, and also that he was strong\nand noble to look on, and wise and eloquent in speech, held that the\ntime was now come to reveal to him his descent. \"Thou hadst indeed a\nclan and kindred,\" he said, \"and a father of the noblest, for thou art\nthe son of Art, the High King of Ireland, who was slain and\ndispossessed by mac Con. But it is foretold that thou shalt yet come\nto thy father's place, and the land pines for thee even now, for there\nis no good yield from earth or sea under the unlawful rule of him who\nnow sits on the throne of Art.\"\n\n\"If that be so,\" said Cormac, \"let us go to Tara, and bide our time\nthere in my father's house.\"\n\nSo the two of them set out for Tara on the morrow morn. And this was\nthe retinue they had with them: a body-guard of outlawed men that had\nrevolted against mac Con and other lords and had gathered themselves\ntogether at Corann under Luna, and four wolves that had been cubs with\nCormac when the she-wolf suckled him.\n\n\nWhen they came to Tara, the folk there wondered at the fierce-eyed\nwarriors and the grey beasts that played like dogs around Cormac, and\nthe lad was adopted as a pupil by the King, to be taught arms and\npoetry and law. Much talk there was of his coming, and of his strange\ncompanions that are not wont to be the friends of man, and as the lad\ngrew in comeliness and in knowledge the eyes of all were turned to him\nmore and more, because the rule of mac Con was not good.\n\nSo the time wore on, till one day a case came for judgment before the\nKing, in which the Queen sued a certain wealthy woman and an owner of\nherds named Benna, for that the sheep of Benna had strayed into the\nQueen's fields and had eaten to the ground a crop of woad[26] that was\ngrowing there. The King gave judgment, that the sheep which had eaten\nthe woad were to be given to the Queen in compensation for what they\nhad destroyed. Then Cormac rose up before the people and said, \"Nay,\nbut let the wool of the sheep, when they are next shorn, be given to\nthe Queen, for the woad will grow again and so shall the wool.\" \"A\ntrue judgment, a true judgment,\" cried all the folk that were present\nin the place; \"a very king's son is he that hath pronounced it.\" And\nthey murmured so loudly against mac Con that his druids counselled him\nto quit Tara lest a worse thing befall him. So he gave up the sovranty\nto Cormac and went southward into Munster to rally his friends there\nand recover the kingdom, and there he was slain by Cormac's men as he\nwas distributing great largesse of gold and silver to his followers,\nin the place called The Field of the Gold.\n\n   [26] Woad is a cruciferous plant, _Isatis tinctoria_, used for\n   dyeing.\n\nSo Cormac, son of Art, ruled in Tara and was High King of all Ireland.\nAnd the land, it is said, knew its rightful lord, and yielded harvests\nsuch as never were known, while the forest trees dripped with the\nabundance of honey and the lakes and rivers were alive with fish. So\nmuch game was there, too, that the folk could have lived on that alone\nand never put a ploughshare in the soil. In Cormac's time the autumn\nwas not vexed with rain, nor the spring with icy winds, nor the summer\nwith parching heat, nor the winter with whelming snows. His rule in\nErinn, it is said, was like a wand of gold laid on a dish of silver.\n\nAlso he rebuilt the ramparts of Tara and made it strong, and he\nenlarged the great banqueting hall and made pillars of cedar in it\nornamented with plates of bronze, and painted its lime-white walls in\npatterns of red and blue. Palaces for the women he also made there,\nand store-houses, and halls for the fighting men--never was Tara so\npopulous or so glorious before or since. And for his wisdom and\nrighteousness knowledge was given to him that none other in Ireland\nhad as yet, for it was revealed to him that the Immortal Ones whom the\nGael worshipped were but the names of One whom none can name, and that\nhis message should ere long come to Ireland from over the eastern sea,\ncalling the people to a sweeter and diviner faith.\n\nAnd to the end of his life it was his way to have wolves about him,\nfor he knew their speech and they his, and they were friendly and tame\nwith him and his folk, since they were foster-brothers together in the\nwild wood.\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE MARRIAGE OF KING CORMAC\n\nIt happened that in Cormac's time there was a very wealthy farmer\nnamed Buicad[27] who dwelt in Leinster, and had vast herds of cattle\nand sheep and horses. This Buicad and his wife had no children, but\nthey adopted a foster-child named Ethne, daughter of one Dunlang. Now\nBuicad was the most hospitable of men, and never refused aught to\nanyone, but he kept open house for all the nobles of Leinster who\ncame with their following and feasted there as they would, day after\nday; and if any man fancied any of the cattle or other goods of\nBuicad, he might take them home with him, and none said him nay. Thus\nBuicad lived in great splendour, and his D\u00fan was ever full to\nprofusion with store of food and clothing and rich weapons, until in\ntime it was all wasted away in boundless hospitality and generosity,\nand so many had had a share in his goods that they could never be\nrecovered nor could it be said of any man that he was the cause of\nBuicad's undoing. But undone he was at last, and when there remained\nto him but one bull and seven cows he departed by night with his wife\nand Ethne from D\u00fan Buicad, leaving his mansion desolate. And he\ntravelled till he came to a place where there was a grove of oak trees\nby a little stream in the county of Meath, near where Cormac had a\nsummer palace, and there he built himself a little hut and tended his\nfew cattle, and Ethne waited as a maid-servant upon him and his wife.\n\n   [27] Pronounced Bwe\u00e9-cad. His name is said to be preserved in\n   the townland of Dunboyke, near Blessington, Co. Wicklow.\n\nNow on a certain day it happened that King Cormac rode out on\nhorseback from his D\u00fan in Meath, and in the course of his ride he came\nupon the little herd of Buicad towards evening, and he saw Ethne\nmilking the cows. And this was the way she milked them: first she\nmilked a portion of each cow's milk into a certain vessel, then she\ntook a second vessel and milked into it the remaining portion, in\nwhich was the richest cream, and these two vessels she kept apart.\nCormac watched all this. She then bore the vessels of milk into the\nhut, and came out again with two other vessels and a small cup. These\nshe bore down to the river-side; and one of the vessels she filled by\nmeans of the cup from the water at the brink of the stream, but the\nother vessel she bore out into the middle of the stream and there\nfilled it from the deepest of the running water. After this she took a\nsickle and began cutting rushes by the river-side, and Cormac saw that\nwhen she cut a wisp of long rushes she would put it on one side, and\nthe short rushes on the other, and she bore them separately into the\nhouse. But Cormac stopped her and saluted her, and said:\n\n\"For whom, maiden, art thou making this careful choice of the milk and\nthe rushes and the water?\"\n\n\"I am making it,\" said she, \"for one who is worthy that I should do\nfar more than that for him, if I could.\"\n\n\"What is his name?\"\n\n\"Buicad, the farmer,\" said Ethne.\n\n\"Is it that Buicad, who was the rich farmer in Leinster that all\nIreland has heard of?\" asked the King.\n\n\"It is even so.\"\n\n\"Then thou art his foster-child, Ethne the daughter of Dunlang?\" said\nCormac.\n\n\"I am,\" said Ethne.\n\n\"Wilt thou be my wife and Queen of Erinn?\" then said Cormac.\n\n\"If it please my foster-father to give me to thee, O King, I am\nwilling,\" replied Ethne.\n\nThen Cormac took Ethne by the hand and they went before Buicad, and he\nconsented to give her to Cormac to wife. And Buicad was given rich\nlands and great store of cattle in the district of Odran close by\nTara, and Ethne the Queen loved him and visited him so long as his\nlife endured.\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE INSTRUCTIONS OF THE KING\n\nEthne bore to Cormac a son, her firstborn, named Cairbry, who was King\nof Ireland after Cormac. It was during the lifetime of Cormac that\nCairbry came to the throne, for it happened that ere he died Cormac\nwas wounded by a chance cast of a spear and lost one of his eyes, and\nit was forbidden that any man having a blemish should be a king in\nIreland. Cormac therefore gave up the kingdom into the hands of\nCairbry, but before he did so he told his son all the wisdom that he\nhad in the governing of men, and this was written down in a book which\nis called _The Instructions of Cormac_.[28] These are among the things\nwhich are found in it, of the wisdom of Cormac:--\n\n   [28] _The Instructions of Cormac_ (Tecosa Cormaic) have been\n   edited with a translation by Dr. Kuno Meyer in the Todd Lecture\n   Series of the Royal Irish Academy, vol. xv., April 1909.\n\n  \"Let him (the king) restrain the great,\n   Let him exalt the good,\n   Let him establish peace,\n   Let him plant law,\n   Let him protect the just,\n   Let him bind the unjust,\n   Let his warriors be many and his counsellors few,\n   Let him shine in company and be the sun of the mead-hall,\n   Let him punish with a full fine wrong done knowingly,\n    and with a half-fine wrong done in ignorance.\"\n\nCairbry said, \"What are good customs for a tribe to pursue?\" \"They are\nas follows,\" replied Cormac:--\n\n   \"To have frequent assemblies,\n    To be ever enquiring, to question the wise men,\n    To keep order in assemblies,\n    To follow ancient lore,\n    Not to crush the miserable,\n    To keep faith in treaties,\n    To consolidate kinship,\n    Fighting-men not to be arrogant,\n    To keep contracts faithfully,\n    To guard the frontiers against every ill.\"\n\n\"Tell me, O Cormac,\" said Cairbry, \"what are good customs for the\ngiver of a feast?\" and Cormac said:--\n\n  \"To have lighted lamps,\n   To be active in entertaining the company,\n   To be liberal in dispensing ale,\n   To tell stories briefly,\n   To be of joyous countenance,\n   To keep silence during recitals.\"\n\n\"Tell me, O Cormac,\" said his son once, \"what were thy habits when\nthou wert a lad?\" And Cormac said:--\n\n   \"I was a listener in woods,\n    I was a gazer at stars,\n    I pried into no man's secrets,\n    I was mild in the hall,\n    I was fierce in the fray,\n    I was not given to making promises,\n    I reverenced the aged,\n    I spoke ill of no man in his absence,\n    I was fonder of giving than of asking.\"\n\n\"If you listen to my teaching,\" said Cormac:--\n\n  \"Do not deride any old person though you be young\n   Nor any poor man though you be rich,\n   Nor any naked though you be well-clad,\n   Nor any lame though you be swift,\n   Nor any blind though you be keen-sighted,\n   Nor any invalid though you be robust,\n   Nor any dull though you be clever,\n   Nor any fool though you be wise.\n\n\"Yet be not slothful, nor fierce, nor sleepy, nor niggardly, nor\nfeckless nor envious, for all these are hateful before God and men.\n\n\"Do not join in blasphemy, nor be the butt of an assembly; be not\nmoody in an alehouse, and never forget a tryst.\"\n\n\"What are the most lasting things on earth?\" asked Cairbry.\n\n\"Not hard to tell,\" said Cormac; \"they are grass, copper, and a\nyew-tree.\"\n\n\"If you will listen to me,\" said Cormac, \"this is my instruction for\nthe management of your household and your realm:--\n\n  \"Let not a man with many friends be your steward,\n  Nor a woman with sons and foster-sons your housekeeper,\n  Nor a greedy man your butler,\n  Nor a man of much delay your miller,\n  Nor a violent, foul-mouthed man your messenger,\n  Nor a grumbling sluggard your servant,\n  Nor a talkative man your counsellor,\n  Nor a tippler your cup-bearer,\n  Nor a short-sighted man your watchman,\n  Nor a bitter, haughty man your doorkeeper,\n  Nor a tender-hearted man your judge,\n  Nor an ignorant man your leader,\n  Nor an unlucky man your counsellor.\"\n\n\nSuch were the counsels that Cormac mac Art gave to his son Cairbry.\nAnd Cairbry became King after his father's abdication, and reigned\nseven and twenty years, till he and Oscar, son of Ois\u00edn, slew one\nanother at the battle of Gowra.\n\n\nV\n\nCORMAC SETS UP THE FIRST MILL IN ERINN\n\nDuring the reign of Cormac it happened that some of the lords of\nUlster made a raid upon the Picts in Alba[29] and brought home many\ncaptives. Among them was a Pictish maiden named Kiernit, daughter of a\nking of that nation, who was strangely beautiful, and for that the\nUlstermen sent her as a gift to King Cormac. And Cormac gave her as a\nhousehold slave to his wife Ethne, who set her to grinding corn with a\nhand-quern, as women in Erinn were used to do. One day as Cormac was\nin the palace of the Queen he saw Kiernit labouring at her task and\nweeping as she wrought, for the toil was heavy and she was unused to\nit. Then Cormac was moved with compassion for the women that ground\ncorn throughout Ireland, and he sent to Alba for artificers to come\nover and set up a mill, for up to then there were no mills in Ireland.\nNow there was in Tara, as there is to this day, a well of water\ncalled _The Pearly_, for the purity and brightness of the water that\nsprang from it, and it ran in a stream down the hillside, as it still\nruns, but now only in a slender trickle. Over this stream Cormac bade\nthem build the first mill that was in Ireland, and the bright water\nturned the wheel merrily round, and the women in Tara toiled at the\nquern no more.\n\n   [29] Scotland.\n\n\nVI\n\nA PLEASANT STORY OF CORMAC'S BREHON\n\nAmong other affairs which Cormac regulated for himself and all kings\nwho should come after him was the number and quality of the officers\nwho should be in constant attendance on the King. Of these he ordained\nthat there should be ten, to wit one lord, one brehon, one druid, one\nphysician, one bard, one historian, one musician and three stewards.\nThe function of the brehon, or judge, was to know the ancient customs\nand the laws of Ireland, and to declare them to the King whenever any\nmatter relating to them came before him. Now Cormac's chief brehon was\nat first one Fithel. But Fithel's time came to die, and his son\nFlahari,[30] a wise and learned man, trained by his father in all the\nlaws of the Gael, was to be brehon to the High King in his father's\nstead. Fithel then called his son to his bedside and said:--\n\n   [30] Pronounced Fla'-haree--accent on the first syllable.\n\n\"Thou art well acquainted, my son, with all the laws and customs of\nthe Gael, and worthy to be the chief brehon of King Cormac. But wisdom\nof life thou hast not yet obtained, for it is written in no law-book.\nThis thou must learn for thyself, from life itself; yet somewhat of it\nI can impart unto thee, and it will keep thee in the path of safety,\nwhich is not easily trodden by those who are in the counsels of great\nkings. Mark now these four precepts, and obey them, and thou wilt\navoid many of the pit-falls in thy way:--\n\n  \"Take not a king's son in fosterage,[31]\n  Impart no dangerous secret to thy wife,\n  Raise not the son of a serf to a high position,\n  Commit not thy purse or treasure to a sister's keeping.\"\n\n   [31] The institution of fosterage, by which the children of\n   kings and lords were given to trusted persons among their\n   friends or followers to bring up and educate, was a marked\n   feature of social life in ancient Ireland, and the bonds of\n   affection and loyalty between such foster-parents and their\n   children were held peculiarly sacred.\n\nHaving said this Fithel died, and Flahari became chief brehon in his\nstead.\n\nAfter a time Flahari thought to himself, \"I am minded to test my\nfather's wisdom of life and to see if it be true wisdom or but\nwise-seeming babble. For knowledge is no knowledge until it be tried\nby life.\"\n\nSo he went before the King and said, \"If thou art willing, Cormac, I\nwould gladly have one of thy sons in fosterage.\" At this Cormac was\nwell pleased, and a young child of the sons of Cormac was given to\nFlahari to bring up, and Flahari took the child to his own D\u00fan, and\nthere began to nurture and to train him as it was fitting.\n\nAfter a time, however, Flahari one day took the child by the hand and\nwent with him into the deep recesses of the forest where dwelt one of\nthe swine-herds who minded the swine of Flahari. To him Flahari handed\nover the child and bade him guard him as the apple of his eye, and to\nbe ready deliver him up again when he was required. The Flahari went\nhome, and for some days went about like a man weighed down by gloomy\nand bitter thoughts. His wife marked that, and sought to know the\nreason, but Flahari put her off. At last when she continually pressed\nhim to reveal the cause of his trouble, he said \"If them must needs\nlearn what ails me, and if thou canst keep a secret full of danger to\nme and thee, know that I am gloomy and distraught because I have\nkilled the son of Cormac.\" At this the woman cried out, \"Murderer\nparricide, hast thou spilled the King's blood, and shall Cormac not\nknow it, and do justice on thee?\" And she sent word to Cormac that he\nshould come and seize her husband for that crime.\n\nBut before the officers came, Flahari took a young man, the son of his\nbutler, and placed him in charge of his lands to manage them, while\nFlahari was away for his trial at Tara. And he also gave to his sister\na treasure of gold and silver to keep for him, lest it should be made\na spoil of while he was absent. Then he went with the officers to\nTara, denying his offence and his confession, but when Cormac had\nheard all, and the child could not be found, he sentenced him to be\nput to death.\n\nFlahari then sent a messenger to his sister, begging her to send him\nat once a portion of the treasure he had left with her, that he might\nuse it to make himself friends among the folk at court, and perchance\nobtain a remission of his sentence; but she sent the messenger back\nagain empty, saying she knew not of what he spoke.\n\nOn this Flahari deemed that the time was come to reveal the truth, so\nhe obtained permission from the King to send a message to his\nswineherd before he died, and to hear the man's reply. And the message\nwas this, that Murtach the herd should come without delay to Tara and\nbring with him the child that Flahari had committed to him. Howbeit\nthis messenger also came back empty, and reported that on reaching D\u00fan\nFlahari he had been met by the butler's son that was over the estate,\nwho had questioned him of his errand, and had then said, \"Murtach the\nserf has run away as soon as he heard of his lord's downfall, and if\nhe had any child in his care he has taken it away with him, and he\ncannot be found.\" This he said because, on hearing of the child, he\nguessed what this might mean, and he had been the bitterest of all in\nurging Flahari's death, hoping to be rewarded with a share of his\nlands.\n\nThen Flahari said to himself, \"Truly the proving of my father's wisdom\nof life has brought me very near to death.\" So he sent for the King\nand entreated him that he might be suffered to go himself to the\ndwelling of Murtach the herd, promising that the King's son should be\nthen restored to him, \"or if not,\" said he, \"let me then be slain\nthere without more ado.\" With great difficulty Cormac was moved to\nconsent to this, for he believed it was but a subterfuge of Flahari's\nto put off the evil day or perchance to find a way of escape. But next\nday Flahari was straitly bound and set in a chariot, and, with a guard\nof spearmen about him and Cormac himself riding behind, they set out\nfor D\u00fan Flahari. Then Flahari guided them through the wild wood till\nat last they came to the clearing where stood the dwelling of Murtach\nthe swineherd, and lo! there was the son of Cormac playing merrily\nbefore the door. And the child ran to his foster-father to kiss him,\nbut when he saw Flahari in bonds he burst out weeping and would not be\nat peace until he was set free.\n\nThen Murtach slew one of the boars of his herd and made an oven in the\nearth after the manner of the Fianna, and made over it a fire of\nboughs that he had drying in a shed. And when the boar was baked he\nset it before the company with ale and mead in methers of beechwood,\nand they all feasted and were glad of heart.\n\nCormac then asked of Flahari why he had suffered himself to be\nbrought into this trouble. \"I did so,\" said Flahari, \"to prove the\nfour counsels which my father gave them ere he died, and I have proved\nthem and found them to be wise. In the first place, it is not wise for\nany man that is not a king to take the fosterage of a king's son, for\nif aught shall happen to the lad, his own life is in the king's hands\nand with his life he shall answer for it. Secondly, the keeping of a\nsecret, said my father, is not in the nature of women in general,\ntherefore no dangerous secret should be entrusted to them. The third\ncounsel my father gave me was not to raise up or enrich the son of a\nserf, for such persons are apt to forget benefits conferred on them,\nand moreover it irks them that he who raised them up should know the\npoor estate from which they sprang. And good, too, is the fourth\ncounsel my father gave me, not to entrust my treasure to my sister,\nfor it is the nature of most women to regard as spoil any valuables\nthat are entrusted to them to keep for others.\"\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE JUDGMENT CONCERNING CORMAC'S SWORD\n\nWhen Cormac, son of Art, son of Conn of the Hundred Battles, was High\nKing in Erinn, great was the peace and splendour of his reign, and no\nprovincial king or chief in any part of the country lifted up his\nhead against Cormac. At his court in Tara were many noble youths, who\nwere trained up there in all matters befitting their rank and station.\n\nOne of these youths was named Socht, son of Fithel. Socht had a\nwonderful sword, named \"The Hard-headed Steeling,\" which was said to\nhave been long ago the sword of Cuchulain. It had a hilt of gold and a\nbelt of silver, and its point was double-edged. At night it shone like\na candle. If its point were bent back to the hilt it would fly back\nagain and be as straight as before. If it was held in running water\nand a hair were floated down against the edge, it would sever the\nhair. It was a saying that this sword would make two halves of a man,\nand for a while he would not perceive what had befallen him. This\nsword was held by Socht for a tribal possession from father and\ngrandfather.\n\nThere was at this time a famous steward to the High King in Tara whose\nname was Dubdrenn. This man asked Socht to sell him the sword. He\npromised to Socht such a ration as he, Dubdrenn, had every night, and\nfour men's food for the family of Socht, and, after that, Socht to\nhave the full value of the sword at his own appraisement. \"No,\" said\nSocht. \"I may not sell my father's treasures while he is alive.\"\n\nAnd thus they went on, Dubdrenn's mind ever running on the sword. At\nlast he bade Socht to a drinking-bout, and plied him so with wine and\nmead that Socht became drunken, and knew not where he was, and\nfinally fell asleep.\n\nThen the steward takes the sword and goes to the King's brazier, by\nname Connu.\n\n\"Art thou able,\" says Dubdrenn, \"to open the hilt of this sword?\" \"I\nam that,\" says the brazier.\n\nThen the brazier took apart the hilt, and within, upon the tang of the\nblade, he wrote the steward's name, even Dubdrenn, and the steward\nlaid the sword again by the side of Socht.\n\nSo it was for three months after that, and the steward continued to\nask Socht to sell him the sword, but he could not get it from him.\n\nThen the steward brought a suit for the sword before the High King,\nand he claimed that it was his own and that it had been taken from\nhim. But Socht declared that the sword was his by long possession and\nby equity, and he would not give it up.\n\nThen Socht went to his father, Fithel the brehon, and begged him to\ntake part in the action and to defend his claim. But Fithel said,\n\"Nay, thou art too apt to blame the pleadings of other men; plead for\nthyself.\"\n\nSo the court was set, and Socht was called upon to prove that the\nsword was his. He swore that it was a family treasure, and thus it had\ncome down to him.\n\nThe steward said, \"Well, O Cormac, the oath that Socht has uttered is\na lie.\"\n\n\"What proof hast thou of that?\" asked Cormac.\n\n\"Not hard to declare,\" replied the steward. \"If the sword be mine, my\nname stands graved therein, concealed within the hilt of the sword.\"\n\n\"That will soon be known,\" says Cormac, and therewith he had the\nbrazier summoned. The brazier comes and breaks open the hilt and the\nname of Dubdrenn stands written within it. Thus a dead thing testified\nin law against a living man.\n\nThen Socht said, \"Hear ye, O men of Erinn and Cormac the King! I\nacknowledge that this man is the owner of the sword.\" And to Dubdrenn\nhe said, \"The property therein and all the obligations of it pass from\nme to thee.\"\n\nDubdrenn said, \"I acknowledge property in the sword and all its\nobligations.\"\n\nThen said Socht, \"This sword was found in the neck of my grandfather\nAngus, and till this day it never was known who had done that murder.\nDo justice, O King, for this crime.\"\n\nSaid the King to Dubdrenn, \"Thou art liable for more than the sword is\nworth.\" So he awarded to Socht the price of seven bondwomen as\nblood-fine for the slaying of Angus, and restitution of the sword to\nSocht. Then the steward confessed the story of the sword, and Cormac\nlevied seven other cumals from the brazier. But Cormac said, \"This is\nin truth the sword of Cuchulain, and by it was slain my grandfather,\neven Conn of the Hundred Battles, at the hands of the King of Ulster,\nof whom it is written:--\n\n\"With a host, with a valiant band Well did he go into Connacht. Alas,\nthat he saw the blood of Conn On the side of Cuchulain's sword!\"\n\nThen Cormac and Fithel agreed that the sword be given to Cormac as\nblood-fine for the death of Conn, and his it was; and it was the third\nbest of the royal treasures that were in Erin: namely, Cormac's Cup,\nthat broke if a falsehood were spoken over it and became whole if a\ntruth were spoken; and the Bell Branch that he got in Fairyland, whose\nmusic when it was shaken would put to sleep wounded men, and women in\ntravail; and the Sword of Cuchulain, against which, and against the\nman that held it in his hand, no victory could ever be won.\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE DISAPPEARANCE OF CORMAC\n\nIn the chronicle of the Kings of Ireland that was written by Tierna\nthe Historian in the eleventh century after Christ's coming, there is\nnoted down in the annals of the year 248, \"Disappearance of Cormac,\ngrandson of Conn, for seven months.\" That which happened to Cormac\nduring these seven months is told in one of the bardic stories of\nIreland, being the Story of Cormac's Journey to Fairyland, and this\nwas the manner of it.\n\nOne day Cormac, son of Art, was looking over the ramparts of his royal\nD\u00fan of Tara, when he saw a young man, glorious to look on in his\nperson and his apparel, coming towards him across the plain of Bregia.\nThe young man bore in his hand, as it were, a branch, from which hung\nnine golden bells formed like apples. When he shook the branch the\nnine apples beat against each other and made music so sweet that there\nwas no pain or sorrow in the world that a man would not forget while\nhe hearkened to it.\n\n\"Does this branch belong to thee?\" asked Cormac of the youth.\n\n\"Truly it does,\" replied the youth.\n\n\"Wilt thou sell it to me?\" said Cormac.\n\n\"I never had aught that I would not sell for a price,\" said the young\nman.\n\n\"What is thy price?\" asked Cormac.\n\n\"The price shall be what I will,\" said the young man.\n\n\"I will give thee whatever thou desirest of all that is mine,\" said\nCormac, for he coveted the branch exceedingly, and the enchantment was\nheavy upon him.\n\nSo the youth gave him the bell-branch, and then said, \"My price is thy\nwife and thy son and thy daughter.\"\n\nThen they went together into the palace and found there Cormac's wife\nand his children. \"That is a wonderful jewel thou hast in thy hand,\nCormac,\" said Ethne.\n\n\"It is,\" said Cormac, \"and great is the price I have paid for it.\"\n\n\"What is that price?\" said Ethne.\n\n\"Even thou and thy children twain,\" said the King.\n\n\"Never hast thou done such a thing,\" cried Ethne, \"as to prefer any\ntreasure in the world before us three!\" And they all three lamented\nand implored, but Cormac shook the branch and immediately their sorrow\nwas forgotten, and they went away willingly with the young man across\nthe plain of Bregia until a mist hid them from the eyes of Cormac. And\nwhen the people murmured and complained against Cormac, for Ethne and\nher children were much beloved of them, Cormac shook the bell-branch\nand their grief was turned into joy.\n\nA year went by after this, and then Cormac longed for his wife and\nchildren again, nor could the bell-branch any longer bring him\nforgetfulness of them. So one morning he took the branch and went out\nalone from Tara over the plain, taking the direction in which they had\npassed away a year agone; and ere long little wreathes of mist began\nto curl about his feet, and then to flit by him like long trailing\nrobes, and he knew no more where he was. After a time, however, he\ncame out again into sunshine and clear sky, and found himself in a\ncountry of flowery meadows and of woods filled with singing-birds\nwhere he had never journeyed before. He walked on, till at last he\ncame to a great and stately mansion with a crowd of builders at work\nupon it, and they were roofing it with a thatch made of the wings of\nstrange birds. But when they had half covered the house, their supply\nof feathers ran short, and they rode off in haste to seek for more.\nWhile they were gone, however, a wind arose and whirled away the\nfeathers already laid on, so that the rafters were left bare as\nbefore. And this happened again and again, as Cormac gazed on them for\nhe knew not how long. At last his patience left him and he said, \"I\nsee with that ye have been doing this since the beginning of the\nworld, and that ye will still be doing it in the end thereof,\" and\nwith that he went on his way.\n\nAnd many other strange things he saw, but of them we say nothing now,\ntill he came to the gateway of a great and lofty D\u00fan, where he entered\nin and asked hospitality. Then there came to him a tall man clad in a\ncloak of blue that changed into silver or to purple as its folds waved\nin the light, and with him was a woman more beautiful than the\ndaughters of men, even she of whom it was said her beauty was as that\nof a tear when it drops from the eyelid, so crystal-pure it was and\nbright.[32] They greeted Cormac courteously and begged him to stay\nwith them for the night.\n\n   [32] See Miss Hull's CUCHULAIN, THE HOUND OF ULSTER, p. 175.\n   The pair were Mananan, god of the sea, and Fand his wife, of\n   whom a tale of great interest is told in the Cuchulain Cycle of\n   legends. The sea-cloak of Mananan is the subject of a\n   magnificent piece of descriptive poetry in Ferguson's CONGAL.\n\nCormac then entered a great hall with pillars of cedar and\nmany-coloured silken hangings on the walls. In the midst of it was a\nfire-place whereon the host threw a huge log, and shortly afterwards\nbrought in a young pig which Cormac cut up to roast before the fire.\nHe first put one quarter of the pig to roast, and then his host said\nto him,\n\n\"Tell us a tale, stranger, and if it be a true one the quarter will be\ndone as soon as the tale is told.\"\n\n\"Do thou begin,\" said Cormac, \"and then thy wife, and after that my\nturn will come.\"\n\n\"Good,\" said the host. \"This is my tale. I have seven of these swine,\nand with their flesh the whole world could be fed. When one of them is\nkilled and eaten, I need but put its bones into the pig-trough and on\nthe morrow it is alive and well again.\" They looked at the fireplace,\nand behold, the first quarter of the pig was done and ready to be\nserved.\n\nThen Cormac put on the second quarter, and the woman took up her tale.\n\"I have seven white cows,\" she said, \"and seven pails are filled with\nthe milk of them each day. Though all the folk in the world were\ngathered together to drink of this milk, there would be enough and to\nspare for all.\" As soon as she had said that, they saw that the second\nquarter of the pig was roasted.\n\nThen Cormac said: \"I know you now, who you are; for it is Mananan that\nowns the seven swine of Faery, and it is out of the Land of Promise\nthat he fetched Fand his wife and her seven cows.\" Then immediately\nthe third quarter of the pig was done.\n\n\"Tell us now,\" said Mananan, \"who thou art and why thou art come\nhither.\"\n\nCormac then told his story, of the branch with its nine golden apples\nand how he had bartered for it his wife and his children, and he was\nnow-seeking them through the world. And when he had made an end, the\nlast quarter of the pig was done.\n\n\"Come, let us set to the feast,\" then said Mananan; but Cormac said,\n\"Never have I sat down to meat in a company of two only.\" \"Nay,\" said\nMananan, \"but there are more to come.\" With that he opened a door in\nthe hall and in it appeared Queen Ethne and her two children. And when\nthey had embraced and rejoiced in each other Mananan said, \"It was I\nwho took them from thee, Cormac, and who gave thee the bell-branch,\nfor I wished to bring thee hither to be my guest for the sake of thy\nnobleness and thy wisdom.\"\n\nThen they all sat down to table and feasted and made merry, and when\nthey had satisfied themselves with meat and drink, Mananan showed the\nwonders of his household to King Cormac. And he took up a golden cup\nwhich stood on the table, and said: \"This cup hath a magical property,\nfor if a lie be spoken over it, it will immediately break in pieces,\nand if a truth be spoken it will be made whole again.\" \"Prove this to\nme,\" said Cormac. \"That is easily done,\" said Mananan. \"Thy wife hath\nhad a new husband since I carried her off from thee.\" Straightway the\ncup fell apart into four pieces. \"My husband has lied to thee,\nCormac,\" said Fand, and immediately the cup became whole again.\n\nCormac then began to question Mananan as to the things he had seen on\nhis way thither, and he told him of the house that was being thatched\nwith the wings of birds, and of the men that kept returning ever and\nagain to their work as the wind destroyed it. And Mananan said,\n\"These, O Cormac, are the men of art, who seek to gather together much\nmoney and gear of all kinds by the exercise of their craft, but as\nfast as they get it, so they spend it, or faster and the result is\nthat they will never be rich.\" But when he had said this it is related\nthat the golden cup broke into pieces where it stood. Then Cormac\nsaid, \"The explanation thou hast given of this mystery is not true.\"\nMananan smiled, and said, \"Nevertheless it must suffice thee, O King,\nfor the truth of this matter may not be known, lest the men of art\ngive over the roofing of the house and it be covered with common\nthatch.\"\n\nSo when they had talked their fill, Cormac and his wife and children\nwere brought to a chamber where they lay down to sleep. But when they\nwoke up on the morrow morn, they found themselves in the Queen's\nchamber in the royal palace of Tara, and by Cormac's side were found\nthe bell-branch and the magical cup and the cloth of gold that had\ncovered the table where they sat in the palace of Mananan. Seven\nmonths it was since Cormac had gone out from Tara to search for his\nwife and children, but it seemed to him that he had been absent but\nfor the space of a single day and night.\n\n\nIX\n\nDESCRIPTION OF CORMAC[33]\n\n   [33] The original from the BOOK OF BALLYMOTE (14th century) is\n   given in O'Curry's MS. MATERIALS OF IRISH HISTORY, Appendix\n   xxvi. I have in the main followed O'Curry's translation.\n\n\"A noble and illustrious king assumed the sovranty and rule of Erinn,\nnamely Cormac, grandson of Conn of the Hundred Battles. The world was\nfull of all goodness in his time; there were fruit and fatness of the\nland, and abundant produce of the sea, with peace and ease and\nhappiness. There were no killings or plunderings in his time, but\neveryone occupied his land in happiness.\n\n\"The nobles of Ireland assembled to drink the Banquet of Tara with\nCormac at a certain time.... Magnificently did Cormac come to this\ngreat Assembly; for no man, his equal in beauty, had preceded him,\nexcepting Conary M\u00f3r or Conor son of Caffa, or Angus \u00d3g son of the\nDagda.[34] Splendid, indeed, was Cormac's appearance in that Assembly.\nHis hair was slightly curled, and of golden colour; a scarlet shield\nhe had, with engraved devices, and golden bosses and ridges of silver.\nA wide-folding purple cloak was on him with a gem-set gold brooch over\nhis breast; a golden torque round his neck; a white-collared shirt\nembroidered with gold was on him; a girdle with golden buckles and\nstudded with precious stones was around him; two golden net-work\nsandals with golden buckles upon his feet; two spears with golden\nsockets and many red bronze rivets in his hand; while he stood in the\nfull glow of beauty, without defect or blemish. You would think it was\na shower of pearls that was set in his mouth, his lips were rubies,\nhis symmetrical body was as white as snow, his cheek was ruddy as the\nberry of the mountain-ash, his eyes were like the sloe, his brows and\neye-lashes were like the sheen of a blue-black lance.\"\n\n   [34] Angus \u00d3g was really a deity or fairy king. He appears also\n   in the story of Midir and Etain. _q.v._\n\n\nX\n\nTHE DEATH AND BURIAL OF CORMAC\n\nStrange was the birth and childhood of Cormac strange his life and\nstrange the manner of his death and burial, as we now have to narrate.\n\nCormac, it is said, was the third man in Ireland who heard of the\nChristian Faith before the coming of Patrick. One was Conor mac Nessa,\nKing of Ulster, whose druid told him of the crucifixion of Christ and\nwho died of that knowledge.[35] The second was the wise judge, Morann,\nand the third Cormac, son of Art. This knowledge was revealed to him\nby divine illumination, and thenceforth he refused to consult the\ndruids or to worship the images which they made as emblems of the\nImmortal Ones.\n\n   [35] See the conclusion of the _Vengeance of Mesgedra_.\n\nOne day it happened that Cormac after he had laid down the kingship of\nIreland, was present when the druids and a concourse of people were\nworshipping the great golden image which was set up in the plain\ncalled Moy Slaught. When the ceremony was done, the chief druid, whose\nname was Moylann, spoke to Cormac and said: \"Why, O Cormac, didst thou\nnot bow down and adore the golden image of the god like the rest of\nthe people?\"\n\nAnd Cormac said: \"Never will I worship a stock[36] that my own\ncarpenter has made. Rather would I worship the man that made it, for\nhe is nobler than the work of his hands.\"\n\n   [36] The image was doubtless of wood overlaid with gold.\n\nThen it is told that Moylann by magic art caused the image to move and\nleap before the eyes of Cormac. \"Seest thou that?\" said Moylann.\n\n\"Although I see,\" said Cormac, \"I will do no worship save to the God\nof Heaven and Earth and Hell.\"\n\nThen Cormac went to his own home at Sletty on the Boyne, for there he\nlived after he had given up the kingdom to his son Cairbry. But the\ndruids of Erinn came together and consulted over this matter, and they\ndetermined solemnly to curse Cormac and invoke the vengeance of their\ngods upon him lest the people should think that any man could despise\nand reject their gods, and suffer no ill for it.\n\nSo they cursed Cormac in his flesh and bones, in his waking and\nsleeping, in his down sitting and his uprising, and each day they\nturned over the Wishing Stone upon the altar of their god,[37] and\nwove mighty spells against his life. And whether it was that these\ntook effect, or that the druids prevailed upon some traitorous servant\nof Cormac's to work their will, so it was that he died not long\nthereafter; and some say that he was choked by a fish bone as he sat\nat meat in his house at Sletty on the Boyne.\n\n   [37] There are still Wishing Stones, which are used in\n   connexion with petitions for good or ill, on the ancient altars\n   of Inishmurray and of Caher Island, and possibly other places\n   on the west coast of Ireland.\n\nBut when he felt his end approaching, and had still the power to\nspeak, he said to those that gathered round his bed:--\"When I am gone\nI charge you that ye bury me not at Brugh of the Boyne where is the\nroyal cemetery of the Kings of Erinn.[38] For all these kings paid\nadoration to gods of wood or stone, or to the Sun and the Elements,\nwhose signs are carved on the walls of their tombs, but I have learned\nto know the One God, immortal, invisible, by whom the earth and\nheavens were made. Soon there will come into Erinn one from the East\nwho will declare Him unto us, and then wooden gods and cursing priests\nshall plague us no longer in this land. Bury me then not at\nBrugh-na-Boyna, but on the hither-side of Boyne, at Ross-na-ree, where\nthere is a sunny, eastward-sloping hill, there would I await the\ncoming of the sun of truth.\"\n\n   [38] This famous cemetery of the kings of pagan Ireland lies on\n   the north bank of the Boyne and consists of a number of\n   sepulchral mounds, sometimes of great extent, containing, in\n   their interior, stone walled chambers decorated with symbolic\n   and ornamental carvings. The chief of these mounds, now known\n   as Newgrange, has been explored and described by Mr George\n   Coffey in his valuable work NEWGRANGE, published by the Royal\n   Irish Academy. _Brugh_=mansion.\n\nSo spake Cormac, and he died, and there was a very great mourning for\nhim in the land. But when the time came for his burial, the princes\nand lords of the Gael vowed that he should lie in Brugh with Art, his\nfather, and Conn of the Hundred Battles, and many another king, in the\ngreat stone chambers of the royal dead. For Ross-na-ree, they said, is\nbut a green hill of no note; and Cormac's expectation of the message\nof the new God they took to be but the wanderings of a dying man.\n\nNow Brugh-na-Boyna lay at the farther side of the Boyne from Sletty,\nand near by was a shallow ford where the river could be crossed. But\nwhen the funeral train came down to the ford, bearing aloft the body\nof the King, lo! the river had risen as though a tempest had burst\nupon it at its far-off sources in the hills, and between them and the\nfarther bank was now a broad and foaming flood, and the stakes that\nmarked the ford were washed clean away. Even so they made trial of the\nford, and thrice the bearers waded in and thrice they were forced to\nturn back lest the flood should sweep them down. At length six of the\ntallest and mightiest of the warriors of the High King took up the\nbier upon their shoulders, and strode in. And first the watchers on\nthe bank saw the brown water swirl about their knees, and then they\nsank thigh-deep, and at last it foamed against their shoulders, yet\nstill they braced themselves against the current, moving forward very\nslowly as they found foothold among the slippery rocks in the\nriver-bed. But when they had almost reached the mid-stream it seemed\nas if a great surge overwhelmed them, and caught the bier from their\nshoulders as they plunged and clutched around it, and they must needs\nmake back for the shore as best they could, while Boyne swept down the\nbody of Cormac to the sea.\n\nOn the following morning, however, shepherds driving their flocks to\npasture on the hillside of Ross-na-ree found cast upon the shore the\nbody of an aged man of noble countenance, half wrapped in a silken\npall; and knowing not who this might be they dug a grave in the grassy\nhill, and there laid the stranger, and laid the green sods over him\nagain.\n\nThere still sleeps Cormac the King, and neither Ogham-lettered stone\nnor sculptured cross marks his solitary grave. But he lies in the\nplace where he would be, of which a poet of the Gael in our day has\nwritten:--\n\n  \"A tranquil spot: a hopeful sound\n     Comes from the ever-youthful stream,\n   And still on daisied mead and mound\n     The dawn delays with tenderer beam.\n\n   \"Round Cormac, spring renews her buds:\n     In march perpetual by his side\n   Down come the earth-fresh April floods,\n     And up the sea-fresh salmon glide;\n\n   \"And life and time rejoicing run\n     From age to age their wonted way;\n   But still he waits the risen sun,\n     For still 'tis only dawning day.\"[39]\n\n   [39] These lines are taken from Sir S. Ferguson's noble poem,\n   _The Burial of King Cormac_, from which I have also borrowed\n   some of the details of the foregoing narrative.\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nNotes on the Sources\n\n\n_The Story of the Children of Lir_ and _The Quest of the Sons of\nTurenn_ are two of the three famous and popular tales entitled \"The\nThree Sorrows of Storytelling.\" The third is the _Tragedy of the Sons\nof Usna_, rendered by Miss Eleanor Hull in her volume CUCHULAIN. I\nhave taken the two stories which are given here from the versions in\nmodern Irish published by the Society for the Preservation of the\nIrish Language, with notes and translation. Neither of them is found\nin any very early MS., but their subject-matter certainly goes back to\nvery primitive times.\n\n\n_The Secret of Labra_ is taken from Keating's FORUS FEASA AR EIRINN,\nedited with translation by the Rev. P.S. Dineen for the Irish Texts\nSociety, vol. i. p. 172.\n\n\n_The Carving of mac Datho's Boar_. This is a clean, fierce, fighting\nstory, notable both for its intensely dramatic _d\u00e9nouement_, and for\nthe complete absence from it of the magical or supernatural element\nwhich is so common a feature in Gaelic tales. It has been edited and\ntranslated from one MS. by Dr Kuno Meyer, in _Hibernica Minora_\n(ANECDOTA OXONIENSIA), 1894, and translated from THE BOOK OF LEINSTER\n(twelfth century) in Leahy's HEROIC ROMANCES.\n\n\n_The Vengeance of Mesgedra_. This story, as I have given it, is a\ncombination of two tales, _The Siege of Howth_ and _The Death of King\nConor_. The second really completes the first, though they are not\nfound united in Irish literature. Both pieces are given in O'Curry's\nMS. MATERIALS OF IRISH HISTORY, and Miss Hull has printed translations\nof them in her CUCHULLIN SAGA, the translation of the _Siege_ being by\nDr Whitly Stokes and that of the _Death of Conor_ by O'Curry. These\nare very ancient tales and contain a strong barbaric element. Versions\nof both of them are found in the great MS. collection known as the\nBOOK OF LEINSTER (twelfth century).\n\n\n_King Iubdan and King Fergus_ is a brilliant piece of fairy\nliterature. The imaginative grace, the humour, and, at the close, the\ntragic dignity of this tale make it worthy of being much more widely\nknown than it has yet become. The original, taken from one of the\nEgerton MSS. in the British Museum, will be found with a translation\nin O'Grady's SILVA GADELICA. For the conclusion, I have in the main\nfollowed another version (containing the death of Fergus only), given\nin the SEANCUS MOR and finely versified by Sir Samuel Ferguson in his\nPOEMS, 1880.\n\n\n_The Story of Etain and Midir_. This beautiful and very ancient\nromance is extant in two distinct versions, both of which are\ntranslated by Mr A.H. Leahy in his HEROIC ROMANCES. The tale is found\nin several MSS., among others, in the twelfth century BOOK OF THE DUN\nCOW (LEABHAR NA H-UIDHRE). It has been recently made the subject of a\ndramatic poem by \"Fiona Macleod.\"\n\n\n_How Ethne quitted Fairyland_ is taken from D'Arbois de Jubainville's\nCYCLE MYTHOLOGIQUE IRLANDAIS, ch. xii. 4. The original is to be found\nin the fifteenth century MS., entitled THE BOOK OF FERMOY.\n\n\n_The Boyhood of Finn_ is based chiefly on the MACGNIOMHARTHA FHINN,\npublished in 1856, with a translation, in the _TRANSACTIONS OF THE\nOSSIANIC SOCIETY_, vol. iv. I am also indebted, particularly for the\ntranslation of the difficult _Song of Finn in Praise of May_, to Dr\nKuno Meyer's translation published in _\u00c9riu_ (the Journal of the\nSchool of Irish Learning), vol. i. pt. 2.\n\n\n_The Coming of Finn_, _Finns Chief Men_, the _Tale of Vivionn_ and\n_The Chase of the Gilla Dacar_, are all handfuls from that rich mine\nof Gaelic literature, Mr Standish Hayes O'Grady's SILVA GADELICA. In\nthe _Gilla Dacar_ I have modified the second half of the story rather\nfreely. It appears to have been originally an example of a well-known\nclass of folk-tales dealing with the subject of the Rescue of\nFairyland. The same motive occurs in the famous tale called _The\nSickbed of Cuchulain_. The idea is that some fairy potentate, whose\nrealm is invaded and oppressed, entices a mortal champion to come to\nhis aid and rewards him with magical gifts. But the eighteenth\ncentury narrator whose MS. was edited by Mr S.H. O'Grady, apparently\nhad not the clue to the real meaning of his material, and after going\non brilliantly up to the point where Dermot plunges into the magic\nwell, he becomes incoherent, and the rest of the tale is merely a\nstring of episodes having no particular connexion with each other or\nwith the central theme. The latter I have here endeavoured to restore\nto view. The _Gilla Dacar_ is given from another Gaelic version by Dr\nP.W. Joyce in his invaluable book, OLD CELTIC ROMANCES.\n\n\n_The Birth of Ois\u00edn_ I have found in Patrick Kennedy's LEGENDARY\nFICTIONS OF THE IRISH CELTS. I do not know the Gaelic original.\n\n\n_Ois\u00edn in the Land of Youth_ is based, as regards the outlines of this\nremarkable story, on the LAOI OIS\u00cdN AR TIR NA N-\u00d3G, written by Michael\nComyn about 1750, and edited with a translation by Thomas Flannery in\n1896 (Gill & Son, Dublin). Comyn's poem was almost certainly based on\nearlier traditional sources, either oral or written or both, but these\nhave not hitherto been discovered.\n\n\n_The History of King Cormac_. The story of the birth of Cormac and his\ncoming into his kingdom is to be found in SILVA GADELICA, where it is\nedited from THE BOOK OF BALLYMOTE, an MS. dating from about the year\n1400.\n\nThe charming tale, of his marriage with Ethne ni Dunlaing is taken\nfrom Keating's FORUS FEASA. From this source also I have taken the\ntales of the Brehon Flahari, of Kiernit and the mill, and of Cormac's\ndeath and burial. The _Instructions of Cormac_ have been edited and\ntranslated by Dr Kuno Meyer in the Todd Lecture Series of the Royal\nIrish Academy, xiv., April 1909. They are found in numerous MSS., and\ntheir date is fixed by Dr Meyer about the ninth century. With some\nother Irish matter of the same description they constitute, says Mr\nAlfred Nutt, \"the oldest body of gnomic wisdom\" extant in any European\nvernacular. (_FOLK-LORE_, Sept. 30, 1909.)\n\nThe story of Cormac's adventures in Fairyland has been published with\na translation by Standish Hayes O'Grady in the _TRANSACTIONS OF THE\nOSSIANIC SOCIETY_, vol. iii., and is also given very fully by d'Arbois\nde Jubainvilie in his CYCLE MYTHOLOGIQUE IRLANDAIS. The tale is found,\namong other MSS., in the BOOK OF BALLYMOTE, but is known to have been\nextant at least as early as the tenth century, since in that year it\nfigures in a list of Gaelic tales drawn up by the historian Tierna.\n\nThe ingenious story of the _Judgment concerning Cormac's Sword_ is\nfound in the BOOK OF BALLYMOTE, and is printed with a translation by\nDr Whitly Stokes in _IRISCHE TEXTE_, iii. Serie, 7 Heft, 1891.\n\n\n\n\nPronouncing Index\n\n\nThe correct pronunciation of Gaelic proper names can only be learned\nfrom the living voice. It cannot be accurately represented by any\ncombination of letters from the English alphabet. I have spared the\nreader as much trouble as possible on this score by simplifying, as\nfar as I could, the forms of the names occurring in the text, and if\nthe reader will note the following general rules, he will get quite as\nnear to the pronunciation intended as there is any necessity for him\nto do. A few names which might present some unusual difficulty are\ngiven with their approximate English pronunciations in the Index.\n\nThe chief rule to observe is that vowels are pronounced as in the\nContinental languages, not according to the custom peculiar to\nEngland. Thus _a_ is like _a_ in _father_, never like _a_ in _fate,\nI_(when long) is like _ee_, _u_ like _oo_, or like _u_ in _put_ (never\nlike _u_ in _tune_). An accent implies length, thus _D\u00fan_, a fortress\nor mansion, is pronounced _Doon_. The letters _ch_ are never to be\npronounced with a _t_ sound, as in the word _chip_, but like a rough\n_h_ or a softened _k_, rather as in German. _Gh_ is silent as in\nEnglish, and _g_ is always hard, as in _give_. _C_ is always as _k_,\nnever as _s_.\n\nIn the following Index an accent placed after a syllable indicates\nthat the stress is to be laid on that syllable. Only those words are\ngiven, the pronunciation of which is not easily ascertainable by\nattention to the foregoing rules.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\u00c6da is to be pronounced  Ee'-da.\nAilill          \"        Al'-yill.\nAnluan          \"        An'-looan.\nAoife           \"        Ee'-fa.\nBacarach        \"        Bac'-ara_h_.\nBelachgowran    \"        Bel'-a_h_-gow'-ran.\nCearnach        \"        Kar'-na_h_.\nCuchulain       \"        Coo-_h_oo'-lin.\nCumhal          \"        Coo'wal, Cool.\nDacar           \"        Dak'-ker.\nDerryvaragh     \"        Derry-var'-a.\n\nEisirt          \"        Eye'sert.\nEochy           \"        Yeo'_h_ee.\n\nFiachra         \"        Fee'-a_k_ra.\nFianna          \"        Fee'-anna.\nFinegas         \"        Fin'-egas.\nFionnuala       \"        Fee-on-oo'-ala, shortened in modern Irish\n                          into Fino'-la.\n\nFlahari         \"        Fla'-haree.\n\nIorroway        \"        Yor'-oway.\nIubdan          \"        Youb'-dan.\nIuchar          \"        You'-_h_ar.\nIucharba        \"        You-_h_ar'-ba.\n\nLiagan          \"        Lee'-agan.\nLir             \"        Leer.\nLogary          \"        Lo'-garee.\n\nMaev            \"        rhyming to _wave_.\nMananan         \"        Man'-anan.\nMesgedra        \"        Mes-ged'-ra.\nMidir           \"        Mid'-eer.\nMochaen         \"        Mo-_hain'.\nMochaov\u00f3g       \"        Mo-_h_wee'-vogue.\nMoonremur       \"        Moon'-ray-mur.\n\nOis\u00edn           \"        Ush'-een (Ossian).\n\nPeisear         \"        Pye'-sar.\n\nSceolaun        \"        Ske-o'-lawn (the _e_ very short).\nSlievenamuck    \"        Sleeve-na-muck'.\nSlievenamon     \"        Sleeve-na-mon'.\n\nTuish           \"        Too'-ish.","title":"The high deeds of Finn, and other bardic romances of ancient Ireland","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":71643}