_Legends of the County Clare._--About nine miles westward from the town of
Ennis, in the midst of some of the wildest scenery in Ireland, lies the
small but very beautiful Lake of Inchiquin, famous throughout the
neighbouring country for its red trout, and for being in winter the haunt
of almost all the various kinds of waterfowl, including the wild swan, that
are to be found in Ireland, while the woods that border one of its sides
are amply stocked with woodcocks. At one extremity of the lake are the
ruins of the Castle of Inchiquin, part of which is built on a rock
projecting into the lake, there about one hundred feet deep, and this
legend is related of the old castle:--Once upon a time, the chieftain of
the Quins, whose stronghold it was, found in one of the caves (many of
which are in the limestone hills that surround the lake) a lady of great
beauty, fast asleep. While gazing on her in rapt admiration she awoke, and,
according to the customs of the Heroic Age, soon consented to become his
bride, merely stipulating that no one bearing the name of O'Brien should be
allowed to enter the castle gate: this being agreed to, the wedding was
celebrated with all due pomp, and in process of time one lovely boy blessed
their union. Among the other rejoicings at the birth of an heir to the
chief of the clan, a grand hunting-match took place, and the chase having
terminated near the castle, the chieftain, as in duty bound, requested the
assembled nobles to partake of his hospitality. To this a ready assent was
given, and the chiefs were ushered into the great hall with all becoming
state; and then for the first time did their host discover that one bearing
the forbidden name was among them The banquet was served, and now the
absence of the lady of the castle alone delayed the onslaught on the good
things spread before them. Surprised and half afraid at her absence, her
husband sought her chamber: on entering, he saw her sitting pensively with
her child at the window which overlooked the lake; raising her head as he
approached, he saw she was weeping, and as he advanced towards her with
words of apology for having broken his promise, she sprang through the
window with her child into the lake. The wretched man rushed forward with a
cry of horror: for one moment he saw her gliding over the waters, now
fearfully disturbed, chanting a wild dirge, and then, with a mingled look
of grief and reproach, she disappeared for ever! And the castle and the
lordship, with many a broad acre besides, passed from the Quins, and are
now the property of the O'Briens to this day; and while the rest of the
castle is little better than a heap of ruins, the fatal window still
remains nearly as perfect as when the lady sprang through it, an
irrefragable proof of the truth of the legend in the eyes of the peasantry.