CHAPTER XV. LAEGAIRE IN THE HAPPY PLAIN

And another that went to visit Magh Mell, the Happy Plain, was Laegaire,

son of the King of Connacht, Crimthan Cass.

He was out one day with the king, his father, near Loch na-n Ean, the

Lake of Birds, and the men of Connacht with them, and they saw a man

coming to them through the mist. Long golden-yellow hair he had, and it

streaming after him, and at his belt a gold-hilted sword, and in his

hand two five-barbed darts, a gold-rimmed shield on his back, a

five-folded crimson cloak about his shoulders.

"Give a welcome to the man that is coming towards you," said Laegaire,

that had the best name of all the men of Connacht, to his people. And to

the stranger he said: "A welcome to the champion we do not know."

"I am thankful to you all," said he.

"What is it you are come for, and where are you going?" said Laegaire

then.

"I am come to look for the help of fighting men," said the stranger.

"And my name," he said, "is Fiachna, son of Betach, of the men of the

Sidhe; and it is what ails me, my wife was taken from my pillow and

brought away by Eochaid, son of Sal. And we fought together, and I

killed him, and now she is gone to a brother's son of his, Goll, son of

Dalbh, king of a people of Magh Mell. Seven battles I gave him, but they

all went against me; and on this very day there is another to be fought,

and I am come to ask help. And to every one that deserves it, I will

give a good reward of gold and of silver for that help."

And it is what he said:

"The most beautiful of plains is the Plain of the Two Mists; it is not

far from this; it is a host of the men of the Sidhe full of courage are

stirring up pools of blood upon it.

"We have drawn red blood from the bodies of high nobles; many women are

keening them with cries and with tears.

"The men of the host in good order go out ahead of their beautiful king;

they march among blue spears, white troops of fighters with curled hair.

"They scatter the troops of their enemies, they destroy every country

they make an attack on; they are beautiful in battle, a host with high

looks, rushing, avenging.

"It is no wonder they to have such strength: every one of them is the

son of a king and a queen; manes of hair they have of the colour of

gold.

"Their bodies smooth and comely; their eyes blue and far-seeing; their

teeth bright like crystal, within their thin red lips.

"White shields they have in their hands, with patterns on them of white

silver; blue shining swords, red horns set with gold.

"They are good at killing men in battle; good at song-making, good at

chess-playing.

"The most beautiful of plains is the Plain of the Two Mists; the men of

the Sidhe are stirring up pools of blood on it; it is not far from this

place."

"It would be a shameful thing not to give our help to this man," said

Laegaire.

Fiachna, son of Betach, went down into the lake then, for it was out of

it he had come, and Laegaire went down into it after him, and fifty

fighting men along with him.

They saw a strong place before them then, and a company of armed men,

and Goll, son of Dalbh, at the head of them.

"That is well," said Laegaire, "I and my fifty men will go out against

this troop." "I will answer you," said Goll, son of Dalbh.

The two fifties attacked one another then, and Goll fell, but Laegaire

and his fifty escaped with their lives and made a great slaughter of

their enemies, that not one of them made his escape.

"Where is the woman now?" said Laegaire. "She is within the dun of Magh

Mell, and a troop of armed men keeping guard about it," said Fiachna.

"Let you stop here, and I and my fifty will go there," said Laegaire.

So he and his men went on to the dun, and Laegaire called out to the men

that were about it: "Your king has got his death, your chief men have

fallen, let the woman come out, and I will give you your own lives." The

men agreed to that, and they brought the woman out. And when she came

out she made this complaint:

"It is a sorrowful day that swords are reddened for the sake of the dear

dead body of Goll, son of Dalbh. It was he that loved me, it was himself

I loved, it is little Laegaire Liban cares for that.

"Weapons were hacked and were split by Goll; it is to Fiachna, son of

Betach, I must go; it is Goll son of Dalbh, I loved."

And that complaint got the name of "The Lament of the Daughter of

Eochaid the Dumb."

Laegaire went back with her then till he put her hand in Fiachna's hand.

And that night Fiachna's daughter, Deorgreine, a Tear of the Sun, was

given to Laegaire as his wife, and fifty other women were given to his

fifty fighting men, and they stopped with them there to the end of a

year.

And at the end of that time, Laegaire said: "Let us go and ask news of

our own country." "If you have a mind to go," said Fiachna, "bring

horses with you; but whatever happens," he said, "do not get off from

them."

So they set out then; and when they got back to Ireland, they found a

great gathering of the whole of the men of Connacht that were keening

them.

And when the men of Connacht saw them coming they rose up to meet them,

and to bid them welcome. But Laegaire called out: "Do not come to us,

for it is to bid you farewell we are here." "Do not go from us again,"

said Crimthan, his father, "and I will give you the sway over the three

Connachts, their silver and their gold, their horses and their bridles,

and their beautiful women, if you will not go from us."

And it is what Laegaire said: "In the place we are gone to, the armies

move from kingdom to kingdom, they listen to the sweet-sounding music of

the Sidhe, they drink from shining cups, we talk with those we love, it

is beer that falls instead of rain.

"We have brought from the dun of the Pleasant Plain thirty cauldrons,

thirty drinking horns; we have brought the complaint that was sung by

the Sea, by the daughter of Eochaid the Dumb.

"There is a wife for every man of the fifty; my own wife to me is the

Tear of the Sun; I am made master of a blue sword; I would not give for

all your whole kingdom one night of the nights of the Sidhe."

With that Laegaire turned from them, and went back to the kingdom. And

he was made king there along with Fiachna, son of Betach, and his

daughter, and he did not come out of it yet.

BOOK FIVE: THE FATE OF THE CHILDREN OF LIR

Now at the time when the Tuatha de Danaan chose a king for themselves

after the battle of Tailltin, and Lir heard the kingship was given to

Bodb Dearg, it did not please him, and he left the gathering without

leave and with no word to any one; for he thought it was he himself had

a right to be made king. But if he went away himself, Bodb was given the

kingship none the less, for not one of the five begrudged it to him but

only Lir, And it is what they determined, to follow after Lir, and to

burn down his house, and to attack himself with spear and sword, on

account of his not giving obedience to the king they had chosen. "We

will not do that," said Bodb Dearg, "for that man would defend any place

he is in; and besides that," he said, "I am none the less king over the

Tuatha de Danaan, although he does not submit to me."

All went on like that for a good while, but at last a great misfortune

came on Lir, for his wife died from him after a sickness of three

nights. And that came very hard on Lir, and there was heaviness on his

mind after her. And there was great talk of the death of that woman in

her own time.

And the news of it was told all through Ireland, and it came to the

house of Bodb, and the best of the Men of Dea were with him at that

time. And Bodb said: "If Lir had a mind for it," he said, "my help and

my friendship would be good for him now, since his wife is not living to

him. For I have here with me the three young girls of the best shape,

and the best appearance, and the best name in all Ireland, Aobh, Aoife,

and Ailbhe, the three daughters of Oilell of Aran, my own three

nurselings." The Men of Dea said then it was a good thought he had, and

that what he said was true.

Messages and messengers were sent then from Bodb Dearg to the place Lir

was, to say that if he had a mind to join with the Son of the Dagda and

to acknowledge his lordship, he would give him a foster-child of his

foster-children. And Lir thought well of the offer, and he set out on

the morrow with fifty chariots from Sidhe Fionnachaidh; and he went by

every short way till he came to Bodb's dwelling-place at Loch Dearg, and

there was a welcome before him there, and all the people were merry and

pleasant before him, and he and his people got good attendance that

night.

And the three daughters of Oilell of Aran were sitting on the one seat

with Bodb Dearg's wife, the queen of the Tuatha de Danaan, that was

their foster-mother. And Bodb said: "You may have your choice of the

three young girls, Lir." "I cannot say," said Lir, "which one of them is

my choice, but whichever of them is the eldest, she is the noblest, and

it is best for me to take her." "If that is so," said Bodb, "it is Aobh

is the eldest, and she will be given to you, if it is your wish." "It is

my wish," he said. And he took Aobh for his wife that night, and he

stopped there for a fortnight, and then he brought her away to his own

house, till he would make a great wedding-feast.

And in the course of time Aobh brought forth two children, a daughter

and a son, Fionnuala and Aodh their names were. And after a while she

was brought to bed again, and this time she gave birth to two sons, and

they called them Fiachra and Conn. And she herself died at their birth.

And that weighed very heavy on Lir, and only for the way his mind was

set on his four children he would have gone near to die of grief.

The news came to Bodb Dearg's place, and all the people gave out three

loud, high cries, keening their nursling. And after they had keened her

it is what Bodb Dearg said: "It is a fret to us our daughter to have

died, for her own sake and for the sake of the good man we gave her to,

for we are thankful for his friendship and his faithfulness. However,"

he said, "our friendship with one another will not be broken, for I will

give him for a wife her sister Aoife."

When Lir heard that, he came for the girl and married her, and brought

her home to his house. And there was honour and affection with Aoife for

her sister's children; and indeed no person at all could see those four

children without giving them the heart's love.

And Bodb Dearg used often to be going to Lir's house for the sake of

those children; and he used to bring them to his own place for a good

length of time, and then he would let them go back to their own place

again. And the Men of Dea were at that time using the Feast of Age in

every hill of the Sidhe in turn; and when they came to Lir's hill those

four children were their joy and delight, for the beauty of their

appearance; and it is where they used to sleep, in beds in sight of

their father Lir. And he used to rise up at the break of every morning,

and to lie down among his children.

But it is what came of all this, that a fire of jealousy was kindled in

Aoife, and she got to have a dislike and a hatred of her sister's

children.

Then she let on to have a sickness, that lasted through nearly the

length of a year. And the end of that time she did a deed of jealousy

and cruel treachery against the children of Lir.

And one day she got her chariot yoked, and she took the four children

in it, and they went forward towards the house of Bodb Dearg; but

Fionnuala had no mind to go with her, for she knew by her she had some

plan for their death or their destruction, and she had seen in a dream

that there was treachery against them in Aoife's mind. But all the same

she was not able to escape from what was before her.

And when they were on their way Aoife said to her people: "Let you kill

now," she said, "the four children of Lir, for whose sake their father

has given up my love, and I will give you your own choice of a reward

out of all the good things of the world." "We will not do that indeed,"

said they; "and it is a bad deed you have thought of, and harm will come

to you out of it."

And when they would not do as she bade them, she took out a sword

herself to put an end to the children with; but she being a woman and

with no good courage, and with no great strength in her mind, she was

not able to do it.

They went on then west to Loch Dairbhreach, the Lake of the Oaks, and

the horses were stopped there. And Aoife bade the children of Lir to go

out and bathe in the lake, and they did as she bade them. And as soon as

Aoife saw them out in the lake she struck them with a Druid rod, and put

on them the shape of four swans, white and beautiful. And it is what she

said: "Out with you, children of the king, your luck is taken away from

you for ever; it is sorrowful the story will be to your friends; it is

with flocks of birds your cries will be heard for ever."

And Fionnuala said: "Witch, we know now what your name is, you have

struck us down with no hope of relief; but although you put us from wave

to wave, there are times when we will touch the land. We shall get help

when we are seen; help, and all that is best for us; even though we

have to sleep upon the lake, it is our minds will be going abroad

early."

And then the four children of Lir turned towards Aoife, and it is what

Fionnuala said: "It is a bad deed you have done, Aoife, and it is a bad

fulfilling of friendship, you to destroy us without cause; and vengeance

for it will come upon you, and you will fall in satisfaction for it, for

your power for our destruction is not greater than the power of our

friends to avenge it on you; and put some bounds now," she said, "to the

time this enchantment is to stop on us." "I will do that," said Aoife,

"and it is worse for you, you to have asked it of me. And the bounds I

set to your time are this, till the Woman from the South and the Man

from the North will come together. And since you ask to hear it of me,"

she said, "no friends and no power that you have will be able to bring

you out of these shapes you are in through the length of your lives,

until you have been three hundred years on Loch Dairbhreach, and three

hundred years on Sruth na Maoile between Ireland and Alban, and three

hundred years at Irrus Domnann and Inis Gluaire; and these are to be

your journeys from this out," she said.

But then repentance came on Aoife, and she said: "Since there is no

other help for me to give you now, you may keep your own speech; and you

will be singing sweet music of the Sidhe, that would put the men of the

earth to sleep, and there will be no music in the world equal to it; and

your own sense and your own nobility will stay with you, the way it will

not weigh so heavy on you to be in the shape of birds. And go away out

of my sight now, children of Lir," she said, "with your white faces,

with your stammering Irish. It is a great curse on tender lads, they to

be driven out on the rough wind. Nine hundred years to be on the water,

it is a long time for any one to be in pain; it is I put this on you

through treachery, it is best for you to do as I tell you now.

"Lir, that got victory with so many a good cast, his heart is a kernel

of death in him now; the groaning of the great hero is a sickness to me,

though it is I that have well earned his anger."

And then the horses were caught for Aoife, and the chariot yoked for

her, and she went on to the palace of Bodb Dearg, and there was a

welcome before her from the chief people of the place. And the son of

the Dagda asked her why she did not bring the children of Lir with her.

"I will tell you that," she said. "It is because Lir has no liking for

you, and he will not trust you with his children, for fear you might

keep them from him altogether."

"I wonder at that," said Bodb Dearg, "for those children are dearer to

me than my own children." And he thought in his own mind it was deceit

the woman was doing on him, and it is what he did, he sent messengers to

the north to Sidhe Fionnachaidh. And Lir asked them what did they come

for. "On the head of your children," said they. "Are they not gone to

you along with Aoife?" he said. "They are not," said they; "and Aoife

said it was yourself would not let them come."

It is downhearted and sorrowful Lir was at that news, for he understood

well it was Aoife had destroyed or made an end of his children. And

early in the morning of the morrow his horses were caught, and he set

out on the road to the south-west. And when he was as far as the shore

of Loch Dairbhreach, the four children saw the horses coming towards

them, and it is what Fionnuala said: "A welcome to the troop of horses I

see coming near to the lake; the people they are bringing are strong,

there is sadness on them; it is us they are following, it is for us they

are looking; let us move over to the shore, Aodh, Fiachra, and comely

Conn. Those that are coming can be no others in the world but only Lir

and his household."

Then Lir came to the edge of the lake, and he took notice of the swans

having the voice of living people, and he asked them why was it they had

that voice.

"I will tell you that, Lir," said Fionnuala. "We are your own four

children, that are after being destroyed by your wife, and by the sister

of our own mother, through the dint of her jealousy." "Is there any way

to put you into your own shapes again?" said Lir. "There is no way,"

said Fionnuala, "for all the men of the world could not help us till we

have gone through our time, and that will not be," she said, "till the

end of nine hundred years."

When Lir and his people heard that, they gave out three great heavy

shouts of grief and sorrow and crying.

"Is there a mind with you," said Lir, "to come to us on the land, since

you have your own sense and your memory yet?" "We have not the power,"

said Fionnuala, "to live with any person at all from this time; but we

have our own language, the Irish, and we have the power to sing sweet

music, and it is enough to satisfy the whole race of men to be listening

to that music. And let you stop here to-night," she said, "and we will

be making music for you."

So Lir and his people stopped there listening to the music of the swans,

and they slept there quietly that night. And Lir rose up early on the

morning of the morrow and he made this complaint:--

"It is time to go out from this place. I do not sleep though I am in my

lying down. To be parted from my dear children, it is that is tormenting

my heart.

"It is a bad net I put over you, bringing Aoife, daughter of Oilell of

Aran, to the house. I would never have followed that advice if I had

known what it would bring upon me.

"O Fionnuala, and comely Conn, O Aodh, O Fiachra of the beautiful arms;

it is not ready I am to go away from you, from the border of the harbour

where you are."

Then Lir went on to the palace of Bodb Dearg, and there was a welcome

before him there; and he got a reproach from Bodb Dearg for not bringing

his children along with him. "My grief!" said Lir. "It is not I that

would not bring my children along with me; it was Aoife there beyond,

your own foster-child and the sister of their mother, that put them in

the shape of four white swans on Loch Dairbhreach, in the sight of the

whole of the men of Ireland; but they have their sense with them yet,

and their reason, and their voice, and their Irish."

Bodb Dearg gave a great start when he heard that, and he knew what Lir

said was true, and he gave a very sharp reproach to Aoife, and he said:

"This treachery will be worse for yourself in the end, Aoife, than to

the children of Lir. And what shape would you yourself think worst of

being in?" he said.

"I would think worst of being a witch of the air," she said. "It is into

that shape I will put you now," said Bodb. And with that he struck her

with a Druid wand, and she was turned into a witch of the air there and

then, and she went away on the wind in that shape, and she is in it yet,

and will be in it to the end of life and time.

As to Bodb Dearg and the Tuatha de Danaan they came to the shore of Loch

Dairbhreach, and they made their camp there to be listening to the music

of the swans.

And the Sons of the Gael used to be coming no less than the Men of Dea

to hear them from every part of Ireland, for there never was any music

or any delight heard in Ireland to compare with that music of the swans.

And they used to be telling stories, and to be talking with the men of

Ireland every day, and with their teachers and their fellow-pupils and

their friends. And every night they used to sing very sweet music of the

Sidhe; and every one that heard that music would sleep sound and quiet

whatever trouble or long sickness might be on him; for every one that

heard the music of the birds, it is happy and contented he would be

after it.

These two gatherings now of the Tuatha de Danaan and of the Sons of the

Gael stopped there around Loch Dairbhreach through the length of three

hundred years. And it is then Fionnuala said to her brothers: "Do you

know," she said, "we have spent all we have to spend of our time here,

but this one night only."

And there was great sorrow on the sons of Lir when they heard that, for

they thought it the same as to be living people again, to be talking

with their friends and their companions on Loch Dairbhreach, in

comparison with going on the cold, fretful sea of the Maoil in the

north.

And they came early on the morrow to speak with their father and with

their foster-father, and they bade them farewell, and Fionnuala made

this complaint:--

"Farewell to you, Bodb Dearg, the man with whom all knowledge is in

pledge. And farewell to our father along with you, Lir of the Hill of

the White Field.

"The time is come, as I think, for us to part from you, O pleasant

company; my grief it is not on a visit we are going to you.

"From this day out, O friends of our heart, our comrades, it is on the

tormented course of the Maoil we will be, without the voice of any

person near us.

"Three hundred years there, and three hundred years in the bay of the

men of Domnann, it is a pity for the four comely children of Lir, the

salt waves of the sea to be their covering by night.

"O three brothers, with the ruddy faces gone from you, let them all

leave the lake now, the great troop that loved us, it is sorrowful our

parting is."

After that complaint they took to flight, lightly, airily, till they

came to Sruth na Maoile between Ireland and Alban. And that was a grief

to the men of Ireland, and they gave out an order no swan was to be

killed from that out, whatever chance there might be of killing one, all

through Ireland.

It was a bad dwelling-place for the children of Lir they to be on Sruth

na Maoile. When they saw the wide coast about them, they were filled

with cold and with sorrow, and they thought nothing of all they had gone

through before, in comparison to what they were going through on that

sea.

Now one night while they were there a great storm came on them, and it

is what Fionnuala said: "My dear brothers," she said, "it is a pity for

us not to be making ready for this night, for it is certain the storm

will separate us from one another. And let us," she said, "settle on

some place where we can meet afterwards, if we are driven from one

another in the night."

"Let us settle," said the others, "to meet one another at Carraig na

Ron, the Rock of the Seals, for we all have knowledge of it."

And when midnight came, the wind came on them with it, and the noise of

the waves increased, and the lightning was flashing, and a rough storm

came sweeping down, the way the children of Lir were scattered over the

great sea, and the wideness of it set them astray, so that no one of

them could know what way the others went. But after that storm a great

quiet came on the sea, and Fionnuala was alone on Sruth na Maoile; and

when she took notice that her brothers were wanting she was lamenting

after them greatly, and she made this complaint:--

"It is a pity for me to be alive in the state I am; it is frozen to my

sides my wings are; it is little that the wind has not broken my heart

in my body, with the loss of Aodh.

"To be three hundred years on Loch Dairbhreach without going into my own

shape, it is worse to me the time I am on Sruth na Maoile.

"The three I loved, Och! the three I loved, that slept under the shelter

of my feathers; till the dead come back to the living I will see them no

more for ever.

"It is a pity I to stay after Fiachra, and after Aodh, and after comely

Conn, and with no account of them; my grief I to be here to face every

hardship this night."

She stopped all night there upon the Rock of the Seals until the rising

of the sun, looking out over the sea on every side till at last she saw

Conn coming to her, his feathers wet through and his head hanging, and

her heart gave him a great welcome; and then Fiachra came wet and

perished and worn out, and he could not say a word they could understand

with the dint of the cold and the hardship he had gone through. And

Fionnuala put him under her wings, and she said: "We would be well off

now if Aodh would but come to us."

It was not long after that, they saw Aodh coming, his head dry and his

feathers beautiful, and Fionnuala gave him a great welcome, and she put

him in under the feathers of her breast, and Fiachra under her right

wing and Conn under her left wing, the way she could put her feathers

over them all. "And Och! my brothers," she said, "this was a bad night

to us, and it is many of its like are before us from this out."

They stayed there a long time after that, suffering cold and misery on

the Maoil, till at last a night came on them they had never known the

like of before, for frost and snow and wind and cold. And they were

crying and lamenting the hardship of their life, and the cold of the

night and the greatness of the snow and the hardness of the wind. And

after they had suffered cold to the end of a year, a worse night again

came on them, in the middle of winter. And they were on Carraig na Ron,

and the water froze about them, and as they rested on the rock, their

feet and their wings and their feathers froze to the rock, the way they

were not able to move from it. And they made such a hard struggle to get

away, that they left the skin of their feet and their feathers and the

tops of their wings on the rock after them.

"My grief, children of Lir," said Fionnuala, "it is bad our state is

now, for we cannot bear the salt water to touch us, and there are bonds

on us not to leave it; and if the salt water goes into our sores," she

said, "we will get our death." And she made this complaint:--

"It is keening we are to-night; without feathers to cover our bodies; it

is cold the rough, uneven rocks are under our bare feet.

"It is bad our stepmother was to us the time she played enchantments on

us, sending us out like swans upon the sea.

"Our washing place is on the ridge of the bay, in the foam of flying

manes of the sea; our share of the ale feast is the salt water of the

blue tide.

"One daughter and three sons; it is in the clefts of the rocks we are;

it is on the hard rocks we are, it is a pity the way we are."

However, they came on to the course of the Maoil again, and the salt

water was sharp and rough and bitter to them, but if it was itself, they

were not able to avoid it or to get shelter from it. And they were there

by the shore under that hardship till such time as their feathers grew

again, and their wings, and till their sores were entirely healed. And

then they used to go every day to the shore of Ireland or of Alban, but

they had to come back to Sruth na Maoile every night.

Now they came one day to the mouth of the Banna, to the north of

Ireland, and they saw a troop of riders, beautiful, of the one colour,

with well-trained pure white horses under them, and they travelling the

road straight from the south-west.

"Do you know who those riders are, sons of Lir?" said Fionnuala.

"We do not," they said; "but it is likely they might be some troop of

the Sons of the Gael, or of the Tuatha de Danaan."

They moved over closer to the shore then, that they might know who they

were, and when the riders saw them they came to meet them until they

were able to hold talk together.

And the chief men among them were two sons of Bodb Dearg, Aodh

Aithfhiosach, of the quick wits, and Fergus Fithchiollach, of the chess,

and a third part of the Riders of the Sidhe along with them, and it was

for the swans they had been looking for a long while before that, and

when they came together they wished one another a kind and loving

welcome.

And the children of Lir asked for news of all the Men of Dea, and above

all of Lir, and Bodb Dearg and their people.

"They are well, and they are in the one place together," said they, "in

your father's house at Sidhe Fionnachaidh, using the Feast of Age

pleasantly and happily, and with no uneasiness on them, only for being

without yourselves, and without knowledge of what happened you from the

day you left Loch Dairbhreach."

"That has not been the way with us," said Fionnuala, "for we have gone

through great hardship and uneasiness and misery on the tides of the sea

until this day."

And she made this complaint:--

"There is delight to-night with the household of Lir! Plenty of ale with

them and of wine, although it is in a cold dwelling-place this night are

the four children of the king.

"It is without a spot our bedclothes are, our bodies covered over with

curved feathers; but it is often we were dressed in purple, and we

drinking pleasant mead.

"It is what our food is and our drink, the white sand and the bitter

water of the sea; it is often we drank mead of hazel-nuts from round

four-lipped drinking cups.

"It is what our beds are, bare rocks out of the power of the waves; it

is often there used to be spread out for us beds of the breast-feathers

of birds.

"Though it is our work now to be swimming through the frost and through

the noise of the waves, it is often a company of the sons of kings were

riding after us to the Hill of Bodb.

"It is what wasted my strength, to be going and coming over the current

of the Maoil the way I never was used to, and never to be in the

sunshine on the soft grass.

"Fiachra's bed and Conn's bed is to come under the cover of my wings on

the sea. Aodh has his place under the feathers of my breast, the four of

us side by side.

"The teaching of Manannan without deceit, the talk of Bodb Dearg on the

pleasant ridge; the voice of Angus, his sweet kisses; it is by their

side I used to be without grief."

After that the riders went on to Lir's house, and they told the chief

men of the Tuatha de Danaan all the birds had gone through, and the

state they were in. "We have no power over them," the chief men said,

"but we are glad they are living yet, for they will get help in the end

of time."

As to the children of Lir, they went back towards their old place in the

Maoil, and they stopped there till the time they had to spend in it was

spent. And then Fionnuala said: "The time is come for us to leave this

place. And it is to Irrus Domnann we must go now," she said, "after our

three hundred years here. And indeed there will be no rest for us there,

or any standing ground, or any shelter from the storms. But since it is

time for us to go, let us set out on the cold wind, the way we will not

go astray."

So they set out in that way, and left Sruth na Maoile behind them, and

went to the point of Irrus Domnann, and there they stopped, and it is a

life of misery and a cold life they led there. And one time the sea

froze about them that they could not move at all, and the brothers were

lamenting, and Fionnuala was comforting them, for she knew there would

help come to them in the end.

And they stayed at Irrus Domnann till the time they had to spend there

was spent. And then Fionnuala said: "The time is come for us to go back

to Sidhe Fionnachaidh, where our father is with his household and with

all our own people."

"It pleases us well to hear that," they said.

So they set out flying through the air lightly till they came to Sidhe

Fionnachaidh; and it is how they found the place, empty before them, and

nothing in it but green hillocks and thickets of nettles, without a

house, without a fire, without a hearthstone. And the four pressed close

to one another then, and they gave out three sorrowful cries, and

Fionnuala made this complaint:--

"It is a wonder to me this place is, and it without a house, without a

dwelling-place. To see it the way it is now, Ochone! it is bitterness to

my heart.

"Without dogs, without hounds for hunting, without women, without great

kings; we never knew it to be like this when our father was in it.

"Without horns, without cups, without drinking in the lighted house;

without young men, without riders; the way it is to-night is a

foretelling of sorrow.

"The people of the place to be as they are now, Ochone! it is grief to

my heart! It is plain to my mind to-night the lord of the house is not

living.

"Och, house where we used to see music and playing and the gathering of

people! I think it a great change to see it lonely the way it is

to-night.

"The greatness of the hardships we have gone through going from one wave

to another of the sea, we never heard of the like of them coming on any

other person.

"It is seldom this place had its part with grass and bushes; the man is

not living that would know us, it would be a wonder to him to see us

here."

However, the children of Lir stopped that night in their father's place

and their grandfather's, where they had been reared, and they were

singing very sweet music of the Sidhe. And they rose up early on the

morning of the morrow and went to Inis Gluaire, and all the birds of the

country gathered near them on Loch na-n Ean, the Lake of the Birds. And

they used to go out to feed every day to the far parts of the country,

to Inis Geadh and to Accuill, the place Donn, son of Miled, and his

people that were drowned were buried, and to all the western islands of

Connacht, and they used to go back to Inis Gluaire every night.

It was about that time it happened them to meet with a young man of good

race, and his name was Aibric; and he often took notice of the birds,

and their singing was sweet to him and he loved them greatly, and they

loved him. And it is this young man that told the whole story of all

that had happened them, and put it in order.

And the story he told of what happened them in the end is this.

It was after the faith of Christ and blessed Patrick came into Ireland,

that Saint Mochaomhog came to Inis Gluaire. And the first night he came

to the island, the children of Lir heard the voice of his bell, ringing

near them. And the brothers started up with fright when they heard it

"We do not know," they said, "what is that weak, unpleasing voice we

hear."

"That is the voice of the bell of Mochaomhog," said Fionnuala; "and it

is through that bell," she said, "you will be set free from pain and

from misery."

They listened to that music of the bell till the matins were done, and

then they began to sing the low, sweet music of the Sidhe.

And Mochaomhog was listening to them, and he prayed to God to show him

who was singing that music, and it was showed to him that the children

of Lir were singing it. And on the morning of the morrow he went forward

to the Lake of the Birds, and he saw the swans before him on the lake,

and he went down to them at the brink of the shore. "Are you the

children of Lir?" he said.

"We are indeed," said they.

"I give thanks to God for that," said he, "for it is for your sakes I am

come to this island beyond any other island, and let you come to land

now," he said, "and give your trust to me, that you may do good deeds

and part from your sins."

They came to the land after that, and they put trust in Mochaomhog, and

he brought them to his own dwelling-place, and they used to be hearing

Mass with him. And he got a good smith and bade him make chains of

bright silver for them, and he put a chain between Aodh and Fionnuala,

and a chain between Conn and Fiachra. And the four of them were raising

his heart and gladdening his mind, and no danger and no distress that

was on the swans before put any trouble on them now.

Now the king of Connacht at that time was Lairgnen, son of Colman, son

of Cobthach, and Deoch, daughter of Finghin, was his wife. And that was

the coming together of the Man from the North and the Woman from the

South, that Aoife had spoken of.

And the woman heard talk of the birds, and a great desire came on her to

get them, and she bade Lairgnen to bring them to her, and he said he

would ask them of Mochaomhog.

And she gave her word she would not stop another night with him unless

he would bring them to her. And she set out from the house there and

then. And Lairgnen sent messengers after her to bring her back, and they

did not overtake her till she was at Cill Dun. She went back home with

them then, and Lairgnen sent messengers to ask the birds of Mochaomhog,

and he did not get them.

There was great anger on Lairgnen then, and he went himself to the place

Mochaomhog was, and he asked was it true he had refused him the birds.

"It is true indeed," said he. At that Lairgnen rose up, and he took hold

of the swans, and pulled them off the altar, two birds in each hand, to

bring them away to Deoch. But no sooner had he laid his hand on them

than their bird skins fell off, and what was in their place was three

lean, withered old men and a thin withered old woman, without blood or

flesh.

And Lairgnen gave a great start at that, and he went out from the

place. It is then Fionnuala said to Mochaomhog: "Come and baptize us

now, for it is short till our death comes; and it is certain you do not

think worse of parting with us than we do of parting with you. And make

our grave afterwards," she said, "and lay Conn at my right side and

Fiachra on my left side, and Aodh before my face, between my two arms.

And pray to the God of Heaven," she said, "that you may be able to

baptize us."

The children of Lir were baptized then, and they died and were buried as

Fionnuala had desired; Fiachra and Conn one at each side of her, and

Aodh before her face. And a stone was put over them, and their names

were written in Ogham, and they were keened there, and heaven was gained

for their souls.

And that is the fate of the children of Lir so far.

PART TWO: THE FIANNA.

BOOK ONE: FINN, SON OF CUMHAL.

CHAPTER I. THE COMING OF FINN

At the time Finn was born his father Cumhal, of the sons of Baiscne,

Head of the Fianna of Ireland, had been killed in battle by the sons of

Morna that were fighting with him for the leadership. And his mother,

that was beautiful long-haired Muirne, daughter of Tadg, son of Nuada of

the Tuatha de Danaan and of Ethlinn, mother of Lugh of the Long Hand,

did not dare to keep him with her; and two women, Bodhmall, the woman

Druid, and Liath Luachra, came and brought him away to care him.

It was to the woods of Slieve Bladhma they brought him, and they nursed

him secretly, because of his father's enemies, the sons of Morna, and

they kept him there a long time.

And Muirne, his mother, took another husband that was king of Carraighe;

but at the end of six years she came to see Finn, going through every

lonely place till she came to the wood, and there she found the little

hunting cabin, and the boy asleep in it, and she lifted him up in her

arms and kissed him, and she sang a little sleepy song to him; and then

she said farewell to the women, and she went away again.

And the two women went on caring him till he came to sensible years; and

one day when he went out he saw a wild duck on the lake with her clutch,

and he made a cast at her that cut the wings off her that she could not

fly, and he brought her back to the cabin, and that was his first hunt.

And they gave him good training in running and leaping and swimming. One

of them would run round a tree, and she having a thorn switch, and Finn

after her with another switch, and each one trying to hit at the other;

and they would leave him in a field, and hares along with him, and would

bid him not to let the hares quit the field, but to keep before them

whichever way they would go; and to teach him swimming they would throw

him into the water and let him make his way out.

But after a while he went away with a troop of poets, to hide from the

sons of Morna, and they hid him in the mountain of Crotta Cliach; but

there was a robber in Leinster at that time, Fiacuil, son of Codhna, and

he came where the poets were in Fidh Gaible and killed them all. But he

spared the child and brought him to his own house, that was in a cold

marsh. But the two women, Bodhmall and Liath, came looking for him after

a while, and Fiacuil gave him up to them, and they brought him back to

the same place he was before.

He grew up there, straight and strong and fair-haired and beautiful. And

one day he was out in Slieve Bladhma, and the two women along with him,

and they saw before them a herd of the wild deer of the mountain. "It is

a pity," said the old women, "we not to be able to get a deer of those

deer." "I will get one for you," said Finn; and with that he followed

after them, and caught two stags of them and brought them home to the

hunting cabin. And after that he used to be hunting for them every day.

But at last they said to him: "It is best for you to leave us now, for

the sons of Morna are watching again to kill you."

So he went away then by himself, and never stopped till he came to Magh

Lifé, and there he saw young lads swimming in a lake, and they called to

him to swim against them. So he went into the lake, and he beat them at

swimming. "Fair he is and well shaped," they said when they saw him

swimming, and it was from that time he got the name of Finn, that is,

Fair. But they got to be jealous of his strength, and he went away and

left them.

He went on then till he came to Loch Lein, and he took service there

with the King of Finntraigh; and there was no hunter like him, and the

king said: "If Cumhal had left a son, you would be that son."

He went from that king after, and he went into Carraighe, and there he

took service with the king, that had taken his mother Muirne for his

wife. And one day they were playing chess together, and he won seven

games one after another. "Who are you at all?" said the king then. "I am

a son of a countryman of the Luigne of Teamhair," said Finn. "That is

not so," said the king, "but you are the son that Muirne my wife bore to

Cumhal. And do not stop here any longer," he said, "that you may not be

killed under my protection."

From that he went into Connacht looking for his father's brother,

Crimall, son of Trenmor; and as he was going on his way he heard the

crying of a lone woman. He went to her, and looked at her, and tears of

blood were on her face. "Your face is red with blood, woman," he said.

"I have reason for it," said she, "for my only son is after being killed

by a great fighting man that came on us." And Finn followed after the

big champion and fought with him and killed him. And the man he killed

was the same man that had given Cumhal his first wound in the battle

where he got his death, and had brought away his treasure-bag with him.

Now as to that treasure-bag, it is of a crane skin it was made, that was

one time the skin of Aoife, the beautiful sweetheart of Ilbrec, son of

Manannan, that was put into the shape of a crane through jealousy. And

it was in Manannan's house it used to be, and there were treasures kept

in it, Manannan's shirt and his knife, and the belt and the smith's hook

of Goibniu, and the shears of the King of Alban, and the helmet of the

King of Lochlann, and a belt of the skin of a great fish, and the bones

of Asal's pig that had been brought to Ireland by the sons of Tuireann.

All those treasures would be in the bag at full tide, but at the ebbing

of the tide it would be empty. And it went from Manannan to Lugh, son of

Ethlinn, and after that to Cumhal, that was husband to Muirne, Ethlinn's

daughter.

And Finn took the bag and brought it with him till he found Crimall,

that was now an old man, living in a lonely place, and some of the old

men of the Fianna were with him, and used to go hunting for him. And

Finn gave him the bag, and told him his whole story.

And then he said farewell to Crimall, and went on to learn poetry from

Finegas, a poet that was living at the Boinn, for the poets thought it

was always on the brink of water poetry was revealed to them. And he did

not give him his own name, but he took the name of Deimne. Seven years,

now, Finegas had stopped at the Boinn, watching the salmon, for it was

in the prophecy that he would eat the salmon of knowledge that would

come there, and that he would have all knowledge after. And when at the

last the salmon of knowledge came, he brought it to where Finn was, and

bade him to roast it, but he bade him not to eat any of it. And when

Finn brought him the salmon after a while he said: "Did you eat any of

it at all, boy?" "I did not," said Finn; "but I burned my thumb putting

down a blister that rose on the skin, and after doing that, I put my

thumb in my mouth." "What is your name, boy?" said Finegas. "Deimne,"

said he. "It is not, but it is Finn your name is, and it is to you and

not to myself the salmon was given in the prophecy." With that he gave

Finn the whole of the salmon, and from that time Finn had the knowledge

that came from the nuts of the nine hazels of wisdom that grow beside

the well that is below the sea.

And besides the wisdom he got then, there was a second wisdom came to

him another time, and this is the way it happened. There was a well of

the moon belonging to Beag, son of Buan, of the Tuatha de Danaan, and

whoever would drink out of it would get wisdom, and after a second drink

he would get the gift of foretelling. And the three daughters of Beag,

son of Buan, had charge of the well, and they would not part with a

vessel of it for anything less than red gold. And one day Finn chanced

to be hunting in the rushes near the well, and the three women ran out

to hinder him from coming to it, and one of them that had a vessel of

the water in her hand, threw it at him to stop him, and a share of the

water went into his mouth. And from that out he had all the knowledge

that the water of that well could give.

And he learned the three ways of poetry; and this is the poem he made to

show he had got his learning well:--

"It is the month of May is the pleasant time; its face is beautiful; the

blackbird sings his full song, the living wood is his holding, the

cuckoos are singing and ever singing; there is a welcome before the

brightness of the summer.

"Summer is lessening the rivers, the swift horses are looking for the

pool; the heath spreads out its long hair, the weak white bog-down

grows. A wildness comes on the heart of the deer; the sad restless sea

is asleep.

"Bees with their little strength carry a load reaped from the flowers;

the cattle go up muddy to the mountains; the ant has a good full feast.

"The harp of the woods is playing music; there is colour on the hills,

and a haze on the full lakes, and entire peace upon every sail.

"The corncrake is speaking, a loud-voiced poet; the high lonely

waterfall is singing a welcome to the warm pool, the talking of the

rushes has begun.

"The light swallows are darting; the loudness of music is around the

hill; the fat soft mast is budding; there is grass on the trembling

bogs.

"The bog is as dark as the feathers of the raven; the cuckoo makes a

loud welcome; the speckled salmon is leaping; as strong is the leaping

of the swift fighting man.

"The man is gaining; the girl is in her comely growing power; every wood

is without fault from the top to the ground, and every wide good plain.

"It is pleasant is the colour of the time; rough winter is gone; every

plentiful wood is white; summer is a joyful peace.

"A flock of birds pitches in the meadow; there are sounds in the green

fields, there is in them a clear rushing stream.

"There is a hot desire on you for the racing of horses; twisted holly

makes a leash for the hound; a bright spear has been shot into the

earth, and the flag-flower is golden under it.

"A weak lasting little bird is singing at the top of his voice; the lark

is singing clear tidings; May without fault, of beautiful colours.

"I have another story for you; the ox is lowing, the winter is creeping

in, the summer is gone. High and cold the wind, low the sun, cries are

about us; the sea is quarrelling.

"The ferns are reddened and their shape is hidden; the cry of the wild

goose is heard; the cold has caught the wings of the birds; it is the

time of ice-frost, hard, unhappy."

And after that, Finn being but a young lad yet, made himself ready and

went up at Samhain time to the gathering of the High King at Teamhair.

And it was the law at that gathering, no one to raise a quarrel or

bring out any grudge against another through the whole of the time it

lasted. And the king and his chief men, and Goll, son of Morna, that was

now Head of the Fianna, and Caoilte, son of Ronan, and Conan, son of

Morna, of the sharp words, were sitting at a feast in the great house of

the Middle Court; and the young lad came in and took his place among

them, and none of them knew who he was.

The High King looked at him then, and the horn of meetings was brought

to him, and he put it into the boy's hand, and asked him who was he.

"I am Finn, son of Cumhal," he said, "son of the man that used to be

head over the Fianna, and king of Ireland; and I am come now to get your

friendship, and to give you my service."

"You are son of a friend, boy," said the king, "and son of a man I

trusted."

Then Finn rose up and made his agreement of service and of faithfulness

to the king; and the king took him by the hand and put him sitting

beside his own son, and they gave themselves to drinking and to pleasure

for a while.

Every year, now, at Samhain time, for nine years, there had come a man

of the Tuatha de Danaan out of Sidhe Finnachaidh in the north, and had

burned up Teamhair. Aillen, son of Midhna, his name was, and it is the

way he used to come, playing music of the Sidhe, and all the people that

heard it would fall asleep. And when they were all in their sleep, he

would let a flame of fire out of his mouth, and would blow the flame

till all Teamhair was burned.

The king rose up at the feast after a while, and his smooth horn in his

hand, and it is what he said: "If I could find among you, men of

Ireland, any man that would keep Teamhair till the break of day

to-morrow without being burned by Aillen, son of Midhna, I would give

him whatever inheritance is right for him to have, whether it be much or

little."

But the men of Ireland made no answer, for they knew well that at the

sound of the sweet pitiful music made by that comely man of the Sidhe,

even women in their pains and men that were wounded would fall asleep.

It is then Finn rose up and spoke to the King of Ireland. "Who will be

your sureties that you will fulfil this?" he said. "The kings of the

provinces of Ireland," said the king, "and Cithruadh with his Druids."

So they gave their pledges, and Finn took in hand to keep Teamhair safe

till the breaking of day on the morrow.

Now there was a fighting man among the followers of the King of Ireland,

Fiacha, son of Conga, that Cumhal, Finn's father, used to have a great

liking for, and he said to Finn: "Well, boy," he said, "what reward

would you give me if I would bring you a deadly spear, that no false

cast was ever made with?" "What reward are you asking of me?" said Finn.

"Whatever your right hand wins at any time, the third of it to be mine,"

said Fiacha, "and a third of your trust and your friendship to be mine."

"I will give you that," said Finn. Then Fiacha brought him

the spear, unknown to the sons of Morna or to any other person, and he

said: "When you will hear the music of the Sidhe, let you strip the

covering off the head of the spear and put it to your forehead, and the

power of the spear will not let sleep come upon you."

Then Finn rose up before all the men of Ireland, and he made a round of

the whole of Teamhair. And it was not long till he heard the sorrowful

music, and he stripped the covering from the head of the spear, and he

held the power of it to his forehead. And Aillen went on playing his

little harp, till he had put every one in their sleep as he was used;

and then he let a flame of fire out from his mouth to burn Teamhair.

And Finn held up his fringed crimson cloak against the flame, and it

fell down through the air and went into the ground, bringing the

four-folded cloak with it deep into the earth.

And when Aillen saw his spells were destroyed, he went back to Sidhe

Finnachaidh on the top of Slieve Fuad; but Finn followed after him

there, and as Aillen was going in at the door he made a cast of the

spear that went through his heart. And he struck his head off then, and

brought it back to Teamhair, and fixed it on a crooked pole and left it

there till the rising of the sun over the heights and invers of the

country.

And Aillen's mother came to where his body was lying, and there was

great grief on her, and she made this complaint:--

"Ochone! Aillen is fallen, chief of the Sidhe of Beinn Boirche; the slow

clouds of death are come on him. Och! he was pleasant, Och! he was kind.

Aillen, son of Midhna of Slieve Fuad.

"Nine times he burned Teamhair. It is a great name he was always looking

for, Ochone, Ochone, Aillen!"

And at the breaking of day, the king and all the men of Ireland came out

upon the lawn at Teamhair where Finn was. "King," said Finn, "there is

the head of the man that burned Teamhair, and the pipe and the harp that

made his music. And it is what I think," he said, "that Teamhair and all

that is in it is saved."

Then they all came together into the place of counsel, and it is what

they agreed, the headship of the Fianna of Ireland to be given to Finn.

And the king said to Goll, son of Morna: "Well, Goll," he said, "is it

your choice to quit Ireland or to put your hand in Finn's hand?" "By my

word, I will give Finn my hand," said Goll.

And when the charms that used to bring good luck had done their work,

the chief men of the Fianna rose up and struck their hands in Finn's

hand, and Goll, son of Morna, was the first to give him his hand the way

there would be less shame on the rest for doing it.

And Finn kept the headship of the Fianna until the end; and the place he

lived in was Almhuin of Leinster, where the white dun was made by Nuada

of the Tuatha de Danaan, that was as white as if all the lime in Ireland

was put on it, and that got its name from the great herd of cattle that

died fighting one time around the well, and that left their horns there,

speckled horns and white.

And as to Finn himself, he was a king and a seer and a poet; a Druid and

a knowledgeable man; and everything he said was sweet-sounding to his

people. And a better fighting man than Finn never struck his hand into a

king's hand, and whatever any one ever said of him, he was three times

better. And of his justice it used to be said, that if his enemy and his

own son had come before him to be judged, it is a fair judgment he would

have given between them. And as to his generosity it used to be said, he

never denied any man as long as he had a mouth to eat with, and legs to

bring away what he gave him; and he left no woman without her

bride-price, and no man without his pay; and he never promised at night

what he would not fulfil on the morrow, and he never promised in the day

what he would not fulfil at night, and he never forsook his right-hand

friend. And if he was quiet in peace he was angry in battle, and Oisin

his son and Osgar his son's son followed him in that. There was a young

man of Ulster came and claimed kinship with them one time, saying they

were of the one blood. "If that is so," said Oisin, "it is from the men

of Ulster we took the madness and the angry heart we have in battle."

"That is so indeed," said Finn.

CHAPTER II. FINN'S HOUSEHOLD

And the number of the Fianna of Ireland at that time was seven score and

ten chief men, every one of them having three times nine righting men

under him. And every man of them was bound to three things, to take no

cattle by oppression, not to refuse any man, as to cattle or riches; no

one of them to fall back before nine fighting men. And there was no man

taken into the Fianna until his tribe and his kindred would give

securities for him, that even if they themselves were all killed he

would not look for satisfaction for their death. But if he himself would

harm others, that harm was not to be avenged on his people. And there

was no man taken into the Fianna till he knew the twelve books of

poetry. And before any man was taken, he would be put into a deep hole

in the ground up to his middle, and he having his shield and a hazel rod

in his hand. And nine men would go the length of ten furrows from him

and would cast their spears at him at the one time. And if he got a

wound from one of them, he was not thought fit to join with the Fianna.

And after that again, his hair would be fastened up, and he put to run

through the woods of Ireland, and the Fianna following after him to try

could they wound him, and only the length of a branch between themselves

and himself when they started. And if they came up with him and wounded

him, he was not let join them; or if his spears had trembled in his

hand, or if a branch of a tree had undone the plaiting of his hair, or

if he had cracked a dry stick under his foot, and he running. And they

would not take him among them till he had made a leap over a stick the

height of himself, and till he had stooped under one the height of his

knee, and till he had taken a thorn out from his foot with his nail,

and he running his fastest. But if he had done all these things, he was

of Finn's people.

It was good wages Finn and the Fianna got at that time; in every

district a townland, in every house the fostering of a pup or a whelp

from Samhain to Beltaine, and a great many things along with that. But

good as the pay was, the hardships and the dangers they went through for

it were greater. For they had to hinder the strangers and robbers from

beyond the seas, and every bad thing, from coming into Ireland. And they

had hard work enough in doing that.

And besides the fighting men, Finn had with him his five Druids, the

best that ever came into the west, Cainnelsciath, of the Shining Shield,

one of them was, that used to bring down knowledge from the clouds in

the sky before Finn, and that could foretell battles. And he had his

five wonderful physicians, four of them belonging to Ireland, and one

that came over the sea from the east. And he had his five high poets and

his twelve musicians, that had among them Daighre, son of Morna, and

Suanach, son of Senshenn, that was Finn's teller of old stories, the

sweetest that ever took a harp in his hand in Ireland or in Alban. And

he had his three cup-bearers and his six door-keepers and his

horn-players and the stewards of his house and his huntsman, Comhrag of

the five hundred hounds, and his serving-men that were under

Garbhcronan, of the Rough Buzzing; and a great troop of others along

with them.

And there were fifty of the best sewing-women in Ireland brought

together in a rath on Magh Feman, under the charge of a daughter of the

King of Britain, and they used to be making clothing for the Fianna

through the whole of the year. And three of them, that were a king's

daughters, used to be making music for the rest on a little silver

harp; and there was a very great candlestick of stone in the middle of

the rath, for they were not willing to kindle a fire more than three

times in the year for fear the smoke and the ashes might harm the

needlework.

And of all his musicians the one Finn thought most of was Cnu Deireoil,

the Little Nut, that came to him from the Sidhe.

It was at Slieve-nam-ban, for hunting, Finn was the time he came to him.

Sitting down he was on the turf-built grave that is there; and when he

looked around him he saw a small little man about four feet in height

standing on the grass. Light yellow hair he had, hanging down to his

waist, and he playing music on his harp. And the music he was making had

no fault in it at all, and it is much that the whole of the Fianna did

not fall asleep with the sweetness of its sound. He came up then, and

put his hand in Finn's hand. "Where do you come from, little one,

yourself and your sweet music?" said Finn. "I am come," he said, "out of

the place of the Sidhe in Slieve-nam-ban, where ale is drunk and made;

and it is to be in your company for a while I am come here." "You will

get good rewards from me, and riches and red gold," said Finn, "and my

full friendship, for I like you well." "That is the best luck ever came

to you, Finn," said all the rest of the Fianna, for they were well

pleased to have him in their company. And they gave him the name of the

Little Nut; and he was good in speaking, and he had so good a memory he

never forgot anything he heard east or west; and there was no one but

must listen to his music, and all the Fianna liked him well. And there

were some said he was a son of Lugh Lamh-Fada, of the Long Hand.

And the five musicians of the Fianna were brought to him, to learn the

music of the Sidhe he had brought from that other place; for there was

never any music heard on earth but his was better. These were the three

best things Finn ever got, Bran and Sceolan that were without fault, and

the Little Nut from the House of the Sidhe in Slieve-nam-ban.

CHAPTER III. BIRTH OF BRAN.

This, now, is the story of the birth of Bran.

Finn's mother, Muirne, came one time to Almhuin, and she brought with

her Tuiren, her sister. And Iollan Eachtach, a chief man of the Fianna

of Ulster, was at Almhuin at the time, and he gave his love to Tuiren,

and asked her in marriage, and brought her to his own house. But before

they went, Finn made him gave his word he would bring her back safe and

sound if ever he asked for her, and he bade him find sureties for

himself among the chief men of the Fianna. And Iollan did that, and the

sureties he got were Caoilte and Goll and Lugaidh Lamha, and it was

Lugaidh gave her into the hand of Iollan Eachtach.

But before Iollan made that marriage, he had a sweetheart of the Sidhe,

Uchtdealb of the Fair Breast; and there came great jealousy on her when

she knew he had taken a wife. And she took the appearance of Finn's

woman-messenger, and she came to the house where Tuiren was, and she

said: "Finn sends health and long life to you, queen, and he bids you to

make a great feast; and come with me now," she said, "till I speak a few

words with you, for there is hurry on me."

So Tuiren went out with her, and when they were away from the house the

woman of the Sidhe took out her dark Druid rod from under her cloak and

gave her a blow of it that changed her into a hound, the most beautiful

that was ever seen. And then she went on, bringing the hound with her,

to the house of Fergus Fionnliath, king of the harbour of Gallimh. And

it is the way Fergus was, he was the most unfriendly man to dogs in the

whole world, and he would not let one stop in the same house with him.

But it is what Uchtdealb said to him: "Finn wishes you life and health,

Fergus, and he says to you to take good care of his hound till he comes

himself; and mind her well," she said, "for she is with young, and do

not let her go hunting when her time is near, or Finn will be no way

thankful to you." "I wonder at that message," said Fergus, "for Finn

knows well there is not in the world a man has less liking for dogs than

myself. But for all that," he said, "I will not refuse Finn the first

time he sent a hound to me."

And when he brought the hound out to try her, she was the best he ever

knew, and she never saw the wild creature she would not run down; and

Fergus took a great liking for hounds from that out.

And when her time came near, they did not let her go hunting any more,

and she gave birth to two whelps.

And as to Finn, when he heard his mother's sister was not living with

Iollan Eachtach, he called to him for the fulfilment of the pledge that

was given to the Fianna. And Iollan asked time to go looking for Tuiren,

and he gave his word that if he did not find her, he would give himself

up in satisfaction for her. So they agreed to that, and Iollan went to

the hill where Uchtdealb was, his sweetheart of the Sidhe, and told her

the way things were with him, and the promise he had made to give

himself up to the Fianna. "If that is so," said she, "and if you will

give me your pledge to keep me as your sweetheart to the end of your

life, I will free you from that danger." So Iollan gave her his promise,

and she went to the house of Fergus Fionnliath, and she brought Tuiren

away and put her own shape on her again, and gave her up to Finn. And

Finn gave her to Lugaidh Lamha that asked her in marriage.

And as to the two whelps, they stopped always with Finn, and the names

he gave them were Bran and Sceolan.

CHAPTER IV. OISIN'S MOTHER.

It happened one time Finn and his men were coming back from the hunting,

a beautiful fawn started up before them, and they followed after it, men

and dogs, till at last they were all tired and fell back, all but Finn

himself and Bran and Sceolan. And suddenly as they were going through a

valley, the fawn stopped and lay down on the smooth grass, and Bran and

Sceolan came up with it, and they did not harm it at all, but went

playing about it, licking its neck and its face.

There was wonder on Finn when he saw that, and he went on home to

Almhuin, and the fawn followed after him playing with the hounds, and it

came with them into the house at Almhuin. And when Finn was alone late

that evening, a beautiful young woman having a rich dress came before

him, and she told him it was she herself was the fawn he was after

hunting that day. "And it is for refusing the love of Fear Doirche, the

Dark Druid of the Men of Dea," she said, "I was put in this shape. And

through the length of three years," she said, "I have lived the life of

a wild deer in a far part of Ireland, and I am hunted like a wild deer.

And a serving-man of the Dark Druid took pity on me," she said, "and he

said that if I was once within the dun of the Fianna of Ireland, the

Druid would have no more power over me. So I made away, and I never

stopped through the whole length of a day till I came into the district

of Almhuin. And I never stopped then till there was no one after me but

only Bran and Sceolan, that have human wits; and I was safe with them,

for they knew my nature to be like their own."

Then Finn gave her his love, and took her as his wife, and she stopped

in Almhuin. And so great was his love for her, he gave up his hunting

and all the things he used to take pleasure in, and gave his mind to no

other thing but herself.

But at last the men of Lochlann came against Ireland, and their ships

were in the bay below Beinn Edair, and they landed there.

And Finn and the battalions of the Fianna went out against them, and

drove them back. And at the end of seven days Finn came back home, and

he went quickly over the plain of Almhuin, thinking to see Sadbh his

wife looking out from the dun, but there was no sign of her. And when he

came to the dun, all his people came out to meet him, but they had a

very downcast look. "Where is the flower of Almhuin, beautiful gentle

Sadbh?" he asked them. And it is what they said: "While you were away

fighting, your likeness, and the likeness of Bran and of Sceolan

appeared before the dun, and we thought we heard the sweet call of the

Dord Fiann. And Sadbh, that was so good and so beautiful, came out of

the house," they said, "and she went out of the gates, and she would not

listen to us, and we could not stop her." "Let me go meet my love," she

said, "my husband, the father of the child that is not born." And with

that she went running out towards the shadow of yourself that was before

her, and that had its arms stretched out to her. But no sooner did she

touch it than she gave a great cry, and the shadow lifted up a hazel

rod, and on the moment it was a fawn was standing on the grass. Three

times she turned and made for the gate of the dun, but the two hounds

the shadow had with him went after her and took her by the throat and

dragged her back to him. "And by your hand of valour, Finn," they said,

"we ourselves made no delay till we went out on the plain after her. But

it is our grief, they had all vanished, and there was not to be seen

woman, or fawn or Druid, but we could hear the quick tread of feet on

the hard plain, and the howling of dogs. And if you would ask every one

of us in what quarter he heard those sounds, he would tell you a

different one."

When Finn heard that, he said no word at all, but he struck his breast

over and over again with his shut hands. And he went then to his own

inside room, and his people saw him no more for that day, or till the

sun rose over Magh Lifé on the morrow.

And through the length of seven years from that time, whenever he was

not out fighting against the enemies of Ireland, he went searching and

ever searching in every far corner for beautiful Sadbh. And there was

great trouble on him all the time, unless he might throw it off for a

while in hunting or in battle. And through all that time he never

brought out to any hunting but the five hounds he had most trust in,

Bran and Sceolan and Lomaire and Brod and Lomluath, the way there would

be no danger for Sadbh if ever he came on her track.

But after the end of seven years, Finn and some of his chief men were

hunting on the sides of Beinn Gulbain, and they heard a great outcry

among the hounds, that were gone into some narrow place. And when they

followed them there, they saw the five hounds of Finn in a ring, and

they keeping back the other hounds, and in the middle of the ring was a

young boy, with high looks, and he naked and having long hair. And he

was no way daunted by the noise of the hounds, and did not look at them

at all, but at the men that were coming up. And as soon as the fight was

stopped Bran and Sceolan went up to the little lad, and whined and

licked him, that any one would think they had forgotten their master.

Finn and the others came up to him then, and put their hands on his

head, and made much of him. And they brought him to their own hunting

cabin, and he ate and drank with them, and before long he lost his

wildness and was the same as themselves. And as to Bran and Sceolan,

they were never tired playing about him.

And it is what Finn thought, there was some look of Sadbh in his face,

and that it might be he was her son, and he kept him always beside him.

And little by little when the boy had learned their talk, he told them

all he could remember. He used to be with a deer he loved very much, he

said, and that cared and sheltered him, and it was in a wide place they

used to be, having hills and valleys and streams and woods in it, but

that was shut in with high cliffs on every side, that there was no way

of escape from it. And he used to be eating fruits and roots in the

summer, and in the winter there was food left for him in the shelter of

a cave. And a dark-looking man used to be coming to the place, and

sometimes he would speak to the deer softly and gently, and sometimes

with a loud angry voice. But whatever way he spoke, she would always

draw away from him with the appearance of great dread on her, and the

man would go away in great anger. And the last time he saw the deer, his

mother, the dark man was speaking to her for a long time, from softness

to anger. And at the end he struck her with a hazel rod, and with that

she was forced to follow him, and she looking back all the while at the

child, and crying after him that any one would pity her. And he tried

hard to follow after her, and made every attempt, and cried out with

grief and rage, but he had no power to move, and when he could hear his

mother no more he fell on the grass and his wits went from him. And when

he awoke it is on the side of the hill he was, where the hounds found

him. And he searched a long time for the place where he was brought up,

but he could not find it.

And the name the Fianna gave him was Oisin, and it is he was their maker

of poems, and their good fighter afterwards.

CHAPTER V. THE BEST MEN OF THE FIANNA

And while Oisin was in his young youth, Finn had other good men along

with him, and the best of them were Goll, son of Morna, and Caoilte, son

of Ronan, and Lugaidh's Son.

As to Goll, that was of Connacht, he was very tall and light-haired, and

some say he was the strongest of all the Fianna. Finn made a poem in

praise of him one time when some stranger was asking what sort he was,

saying how hardy he was and brave in battle, and as strong as a hound or

as the waves, and with all that so kind and so gentle, and open-handed

and sweet-voiced, and faithful to his friends.

And the chessboard he had was called the Solustairtech, the Shining

Thing, and some of the chessmen were made of gold, and some of them of

silver, and each one of them was as big as the fist of the biggest man

of the Fianna; and after the death of Goll it was buried in Slieve

Baune.

And as to Caoilte, that was a grey thin man, he was the best runner of

them all. And he did a good many great deeds; a big man of the Fomor he

killed one time, and he killed a five-headed giant in a wheeling door,

and another time he made an end of an enchanted boar that no one else

could get near, and he killed a grey stag that had got away from the

Fianna through twenty-seven years. And another time he brought Finn out

of Teamhair, where he was kept by force by the High King, because of

some rebellion the Fianna had stirred up. And when Caoilte heard Finn

had been brought away to Teamhair, he went out to avenge him. And the

first he killed was Cuireach, a king of Leinster that had a great name,

and he brought his head up to the hill that is above Buadhmaic. And

after that he made a great rout through Ireland, bringing sorrow into

every house for the sake of Finn, killing a man in every place, and

killing the calves with the cows.

And every door the red wind from the east blew on, he would throw it

open, and go in and destroy all before him, setting fire to the fields,

and giving the wife of one man to another.

And when he came to Teamhair, he came to the palace, and took the

clothes off the door-keeper, and he left his own sword that was worn

thin in the king's sheath, and took the king's sword that had great

power in it. And he went into the palace then in the disguise of a

servant, to see how he could best free Finn.

And when evening came Caoilte held the candle at the king's feast in the

great hall, and after a while the king said: "You will wonder at what I

tell you, Finn, that the two eyes of Caoilte are in my candlestick." "Do

not say that," said Finn, "and do not put reproach on my people although

I myself am your prisoner; for as to Caoilte," he said, "that is not the

way with him, for it is a high mind he has, and he only does high

deeds, and he would not stand serving with a candle for all the gold of

the whole world."

After that Caoilte was serving the King of Ireland with drink, and when

he was standing beside him he gave out a high sorrowful lament. "There

is the smell of Caoilte's skin on that lament," said the king. And when

Caoilte saw he knew him he spoke out and he said: "Tell me what way I

can get freedom for my master." "There is no way to get freedom for him

but by doing one thing," said the king, "and that is a thing you can

never do. If you can bring me together a couple of all the wild

creatures of Ireland," he said, "I will give up your master to you

then."

When Caoilte heard him say that he made no delay, but he set out from

Teamhair, and went through the whole of Ireland to do that work for the

sake of Finn. It is with the flocks of birds he began, though they were

scattered in every part, and from them he went on to the beasts. And he

gathered together two of every sort, two ravens from Fiodh da Bheann;

two wild ducks from Loch na Seillein; two foxes from Slieve Cuilinn; two

wild oxen from Burren; two swans from blue Dobhran; two owls from the

wood of Faradhruim; two polecats from the branchy wood on the side of

Druim da Raoin, the Ridge of the Victories; two gulls from the strand of

Loch Leith; four woodpeckers from white Brosna; two plovers from

Carraigh Dhain; two thrushes from Leith Lomard; two wrens from Dun

Aoibh; two herons from Corrain Cleibh; two eagles from Carraig of the

stones; two hawks from Fiodh Chonnach; two sows from Loch Meilghe; two

water-hens from Loch Erne; two moor-hens from Monadh Maith; two

sparrow-hawks from Dubhloch; two stonechats from Magh Cuillean; two

tomtits from Magh Tuallainn; two swallows from Sean Abhla; two

cormorants from Ath Cliath; two wolves from Broit Cliathach; two

blackbirds from the Strand of the Two Women; two roebucks from Luachair

Ire; two pigeons from Ceas Chuir; two nightingales from Leiter Ruadh;

two starlings from green-sided Teamhair; two rabbits from Sith Dubh

Donn; two wild pigs from Cluaidh Chuir; two cuckoos from Drom Daibh; two

lapwings from Leanain na Furraich; two woodcocks from Craobh Ruadh; two

hawks from the Bright Mountain; two grey mice from Luimneach; two otters

from the Boinn; two larks from the Great Bog; two bats from the Cave of

the Nuts; two badgers from the province of Ulster; two landrail from the

banks of the Sionnan; two wagtails from Port Lairrge; two curlews from

the harbour of Gallimh; two hares from Muirthemne; two deer from Sith

Buidhe; two peacocks from Magh Mell; two cormorants from Ath Cliath; two

eels from Duth Dur; two goldfinches from Slieve na-n Eun; two birds of

slaughter from Magh Bhuilg; two bright swallows from Granard; two

redbreasts from the Great Wood; two rock-cod from Cala Chairge; two

sea-pigs from the great sea; two wrens from Mios an Chuil; two salmon

from Eas Mhic Muirne; two clean deer from Gleann na Smoil; two cows from

Magh Mor; two cats from the Cave of Cruachan; two sheep from bright

Sidhe Diobhlain; two pigs of the pigs of the son of Lir; a ram and a

crimson sheep from Innis.

And along with all these he brought ten hounds of the hounds of the

Fianna, and a horse and a mare of the beautiful horses of Manannan.

And when Caoilte had gathered all these, he brought them to the one

place. But when he tried to keep them together, they scattered here and

there from him; the raven went away southward, and that vexed him

greatly, but he overtook it again in Gleann da Bheann, beside Loch

Lurcan. And then his wild duck went away from him, and it was not easy

to get it again, but he followed it through every stream to grey Accuill

till he took it by the neck and brought it back, and it no way willing.

And indeed through the length of his life Caoilte remembered well all he

went through that time with the birds, big and little, travelling over

hills and ditches and striving to bring them with him, that he might set

Finn his master free.

And when he came to Teamhair he had more to go through yet, for the king

would not let him bring them in before morning, but gave him a house

having nine doors in it to put them up in for the night. And no sooner

were they put in than they raised a loud screech all together, for a

little ray of light was coming to them through fifty openings, and they

were trying to make their escape. And if they were not easy in the

house, Caoilte was not easy outside it, watching every door till the

rising of the sun on the morrow.

And when he brought out his troop, the name the people gave them was

"Caoilte's Rabble," and there was no wonder at all in that.

But all the profit the King of Ireland got from them was to see them

together for that one time. For no sooner did Finn get his freedom than

the whole of them scattered here and there, and no two of them went by

the same road out of Teamhair.

And that was one of the best things Caoilte, son of Ronan, ever did. And

another time he ran from the wave of Cliodna in the south to the wave of

Rudraige in the north. And Colla his son was a very good runner too, and

one time he ran a race backwards against the three battalions of the

Fianna for a chessboard. And he won the race, but if he did, he went

backward over Beinn Edair into the sea.

And very good hearing Caoilte had. One time he heard the King of the

Luigne of Connacht at his hunting, and Blathmec that was with him said,

"What is that hunt, Caoilte?" "A hunt of three packs of hounds," he

said, "and three sorts of wild creatures before them. The first hunt,"

he said, "is after stags and large deer and the second hunt is after

swift small hares, and the third is a furious hunt after heavy boars."

"And what is the fourth hunt, Caoilte?" said Blathmec. "It is the

hunting of heavy-sided, low-bellied badgers." And then they heard coming

after the hunt the shouts of the lads and of the readiest of the men and

the serving-men that were best at carrying burdens. And Blathmec went

out to see the hunting, and just as Caoilte had told him, that was the

way it was.

And he understood the use of herbs, and one time he met with two women

that were very downhearted because their husbands had gone from them to

take other wives. And Caoilte gave them Druid herbs, and they put them

in the water of a bath and washed in it, and the love of their husbands

came back to them, and they sent away the new wives they had taken.

And as to Lugaidh's Son, that was of Finn's blood, and another of the

best men of the Fianna, he was put into Finn's arms as a child, and he

was reared up by Duban's daughter, that had reared eight hundred

fighting men of the Fianna, till his twelfth year, and then she gave him

all he wanted of arms and of armour, and he went to Chorraig Conluain

and the mountains of Slieve Bladhma, where Finn and the Fianna were at

that time.

And Finn gave him a very gentle welcome, and he struck his hand in

Finn's hand, and made his agreement of service with him. And he stopped

through the length of a year with the Fianna; but he was someway

sluggish through all that time, so that under his leading not more than

nine of the Fianna got to kill so much as a boar or a deer. And along

with that, he used to beat both his servants and his hounds.

And at last the three battalions of the Fianna went to where Finn was,

at the Point of the Fianna on the edge of Loch Lein, and they made their

complaint against Lugaidh's Son, and it is what they said: "Make your

choice now, will you have us with you, or will you have Lugaidh's Son by

himself."

Then Lugaidh's Son came to Finn, and Finn asked him, "What is it has put

the whole of the Fianna against you?" "By my word," said the lad, "I do

not know the reason, unless it might be they do not like me to be doing

my feats and casting my spears among them."

Then Finn gave him an advice, and it is what he said: "If you have a

mind to be a good champion, be quiet in a great man's house; be surly in

the narrow pass. Do not beat your hound without a cause; do not bring a

charge against your wife without having knowledge of her guilt; do not

hurt a fool in fighting, for he is without his wits. Do not find fault

with high-up persons; do not stand up to take part in a quarrel; have no

dealings with a bad man or a foolish man. Let two-thirds of your

gentleness be showed to women and to little children that are creeping

on the floor, and to men of learning that make the poems, and do not be

rough with the common people. Do not give your reverence to all; do not

be ready to have one bed with your companions. Do not threaten or speak

big words, for it is a shameful thing to speak stiffly unless you can

carry it out afterwards. Do not forsake your lord so long as you live;

do not give up any man that puts himself under your protection for all

the treasures of the world. Do not speak against others to their lord,

that is not work for a good man. Do not be a bearer of lying stories, or

a tale-bearer that is always chattering. Do not be talking too much; do

not find fault hastily; however brave you may be, do not raise factions

against you. Do not be going to drinking-houses, or finding fault with

old men; do not meddle with low people; this is right conduct I am

telling you. Do not refuse to share your meat; do not have a niggard for

your friend; do not force yourself on a great man or give him occasion

to speak against you. Hold fast to your arms till the hard fight is well

ended. Do not give up your opportunity, but with that follow after

gentleness."

That was good advice Finn gave, and he was well able to do that; for it

was said of him that he had all the wisdom of a little child that is

busy about the house, and the mother herself not understanding what he

is doing; and that is the time she has most pride in him.

And as to Lugaidh's Son, that advice stayed always with him, and he

changed his ways, and after a while he got a great name among the poets

of Ireland and of Alban, and whenever they would praise Finn in their

poems, they would praise him as well.

And Aoife, daughter of the King of Lochlann, that was married to Mal,

son of Aiel, King of Alban, heard the great praise the poets were giving

to Lugaidh's Son, and she set her love on him for the sake of those

stories.

And one time Mal her husband and his young men went hunting to

Slieve-mor-Monaidh in the north of Alban. And when he was gone Aoife

made a plan in her sunny house where she was, to go over to Ireland,

herself and her nine foster-sisters. And they set out and went over the

manes of the sea till they came to Beinn Edair, and there they landed.

And it chanced on that day there was a hunting going on, from Slieve

Bladhma to Beinn Edair. And Finn was in his hunting seat, and his

fosterling, brown-haired Duibhruinn, beside him. And the little lad was

looking about him on every side, and he saw a ship coming to the

strand, and a queen with modest looks in the ship, and nine women along

with her. They landed then, and they came up to where Finn was, bringing

every sort of present with them, and Aoife sat down beside him. And Finn

asked news of her, and she told him the whole story, and how she had

given her love to Lugaidh's Son, and was come over the sea looking for

him; and Finn made her welcome.

And when the hunting was over, the chief men of the Fianna came back to

where Finn was, and every one asked who was the queen that was with him.

And Finn told them her name, and what it was brought her to Ireland. "We

welcome her that made that journey," said they all; "for there is not in

Ireland or in Alban a better man than the man she is come looking for,

unless Finn himself."

And as to Lugaidh's Son, it was on the far side of Slieve Bladhma he was

hunting that day, and he was the last to come in. And he went into

Finn's tent, and when he saw the woman beside him he questioned Finn the

same as the others had done, and Finn told him the whole story. "And it

is to you she is come," he said; "and here she is to you out of my hand,

and all the war and the battles she brings with her; but it will not

fall heavier on you," he said, "than on the rest of the Fianna."

And she was with Lugaidh's Son a month and a year without being asked

for. But one day the three battalions of the Fianna were on the Hill of

the Poet in Leinster, and they saw three armed battalions equal to

themselves coming, against them, and they asked who was bringing them.

"It is Mal, son of Aiel, is bringing them," said Finn, "to avenge his

wife on the Fianna. And it is a good time they are come," he said, "when

we are gathered together at the one spot."

Then the two armies went towards one another, and Mal, son of Aiel,

took hold of his arms, and three times he broke through the Fianna, and

every time a hundred fell by him. And in the middle of the battle he and

Lugaidh's Son met, and they fought against one another with spear and

sword. And whether the fight was short or long, it was Mal fell by

Lugaidh's Son at the last.

And Aoife stood on a hill near by, as long as the battle lasted. And

from that out she belonged to Lugaidh's Son, and was a mother of

children to him.

BOOK TWO: FINN'S HELPERS

CHAPTER I. THE LAD OF THE SKINS

Besides all the men Finn had in his household, there were some that

would come and join him from one place or another. One time a young man

wearing a dress of skins came to Finn's house at Almhuin, and his wife

along with him, and he asked to take service with Finn.

And in the morning, as they were going to their hunting, the Lad of the

Skins said to Finn: "Let me have no one with me but myself, and let me

go into one part of the country by myself, and you yourself with all

your men go to another part." "Is it on the dry ridges you will go,"

said Finn, "or is it in the deep bogs and marshes, where there is danger

of drowning?" "I will go in the deep boggy places," said he.

So they all went out from Almhuin, Finn and the Fianna to one part, and

the Lad of the Skins to another part, and they hunted through the day.

And when they came back at evening, the Lad of the Skins had killed more

than Finn and all his men together.

When Finn saw that, he was glad to have so good a servant. But Conan

said to him: "The Lad of the Skins will destroy ourselves and the whole

of the Fianna of Ireland unless you will find some way to rid yourself

of him." "I never had a good man with me yet, Conan," said Finn, "but

you wanted me to put him away; and how could I put away a man like

that?" he said. "The way to put him away," said Conan, "is to send him

to the King of the Floods to take from him the great cauldron that is

never without meat, but that has always enough in it to feed the whole

world. And let him bring that cauldron back here with him to Almhuin,"

he said.

So Finn called to the Lad of the Skins, and he said: "Go from me now to

the King of the Floods and get the great cauldron that is never empty

from him, and bring it here to me." "So long as I am in your service I

must do your work," said the Lad of the Skins. With that he set out,

leaping over the hills and valleys till he came to the shore of the sea.

And then he took up two sticks and put one of them across the other, and

a great ship rose out of the two sticks. The Lad of the Skins went into

the ship then, and put up the sails and set out over the sea, and he

heard nothing but the whistling of eels in the sea and the calling of

gulls in the air till he came to the house of the King of the Floods.

And at that time there were hundreds of ships waiting near the shore;

and he left his ship outside them all, and then he stepped from ship to

ship till he stood on land.

There was a great feast going on at that time in the king's house, and

the Lad of the Skins went up to the door, but he could get no farther

because of the crowd. So he stood outside the door for a while, and no

one looked at him, and he called out at last: "This is a hospitable

house indeed, and these are mannerly ways, not to ask a stranger if

there is hunger on him or thirst." "That is true," said the king; "and

give the cauldron of plenty now to this stranger," he said, "till he

eats his fill."

So his people did that, and no sooner did the Lad of the Skins get a

hold of the cauldron than he made away to the ship and put it safe into

it. But when he had done that he said: "There is no use in taking the

pot by my swiftness, if I do not take it by my strength." And with that

he turned and went to land again. And the whole of the men of the army

of the King of the Floods were ready to fight; but if they were, so was

the Lad of the Skins, and he went through them and over them all till

the whole place was quiet.

He went back to his ship then and raised the sails and set out again

for Ireland, and the ship went rushing back to the place where he made

it. And when he came there, he gave a touch of his hand to the ship, and

there was nothing left of it but the two sticks he made it from, and

they lying on the strand before him, and the cauldron of plenty with

them. And he took up the cauldron on his back, and brought it to Finn,

son of Cumhal, at Almhuin. And Finn gave him his thanks for the work he

had done.

One day, now, Finn was washing himself at the well, and a voice spoke

out of the water, and it said: "You must give back the cauldron, Finn,

to the King of the Floods, or you must give him battle in place of it."

Finn told that to the Lad of the Skins, but the answer he got from him

was that his time was up, and that he could not serve on time that was

past. "But if you want me to go with you," he said, "let you watch my

wife, that is Manannan's daughter, through the night; and in the middle

of the night, when she will be combing her hair, any request you make of

her, she cannot refuse it. And the request you will make is that she

will let me go with you to the King of the Floods, to bring the cauldron

to his house and to bring it back again."

So Finn watched Manannan's daughter through the night, and when he saw

her combing her hair, he made his request of her. "I have no power to

refuse you," she said; "but you must promise me one thing, to bring my

husband back to me, alive or dead. And if he is alive," she said, "put

up a grey-green flag on the ship coming back; but if he is dead, put up

a red flag."

So Finn promised to do that, and he himself and the Lad of the Skins set

out together for the dun of the King of the Floods, bringing the

cauldron with them.

No sooner did the king see them than he gave word to all his armies to

make ready. But the Lad of the Skins made for them and overthrew them,

and he went into the king's dun, and Finn with him, and they overcame

him and brought away again the cauldron that was never empty.

But as they were going back to Ireland, they saw a great ship coming

towards them. And when the Lad of the Skins looked at the ship, he said:

"I think it is an old enemy of my own is in that ship, that is trying to

bring me to my death, because of my wife that refused him her love." And

when the ship came alongside, the man that was in it called out: "I know

you well, and it is not by your dress I know you, son of the King of the

Hills." And with that he made a leap on to the ship, and the two fought

a great battle together, and they took every shape; they began young

like two little boys, and fought till they were two old men; they fought

from being two young pups until they were two old dogs; from being two

young horses till they were two old horses. And then they began to fight

in the shape of birds, and it is in that shape they killed one another

at the last. And Finn threw the one bird into the water, but the other,

that was the Lad of the Skins, he brought with him in the ship. And when

he came in sight of Ireland, he raised a red flag as he had promised the

woman.

And when he came to the strand, she was there before him, and when she

saw Finn, she said: "It is dead you have brought him back to me." And

Finn gave her the bird, and she asked was that what she was to get in

the place of her husband. And she was crying over the bird, and she

brought it into a little boat with her, and she bade Finn to push out

the boat to sea.

And he pushed it out, and it was driven by wind and waves till at last

she saw two birds flying, having a dead one between them. And the two

living birds let down the dead one on an island; and it was not long

till it rose up living, and the three went away together.

And when Manannan's daughter saw that, she said: "There might be some

cure for my man on the island, the way there was for that dead bird."

And the sea brought the boat to the island, and she went searching

around, but all she could find was a tree having green leaves. "It might

be in these leaves the cure is," she said; and she took some of the

leaves and brought them to where the Lad of the Skins was, and put them

about him. And on that moment he stood up as well and as sound as ever

he was.

They went back then to Ireland, and they came to Almhuin at midnight,

and the Lad of the Skins knocked at the door, and he said: "Put me out

my wages." "There is no man, living or dead, has wages on me but the Lad

of the Skins," said Finn; "and I would sooner see him here to-night," he

said, "than the wages of three men." "If that is so, rise up and you

will see him," said he.

So Finn rose up and saw him, and gave him a great welcome, and paid him

his wages.

And after that he went away and his wife with him to wherever his own

country was; but there were some said he was gone to the country of his

wife's father, Manannan, Son of the Sea.

CHAPTER II. BLACK, BROWN, AND GREY

Finn was hunting one time near Teamhair of the Kings, and he saw three

strange men coming towards him, and he asked what were their names.

"Dubh and Dun and Glasan, Black, Brown, and Grey, are our names," they

said, "and we are come to find Finn, son of Cumhal, Head of the Fianna,

and to take service with him."

So Finn took them into his service, and when evening came he said: "Let

each one of you watch through a third part of the night." And there was

a trunk of a tree there, and he bade them make three equal parts of it,

and he gave a part to each of the three men, and he said: "When each one

of you begins his watch, let him set fire to his own log, and as long as

the wood burns let him watch."

Then they drew lots, and the lot fell to Dubh to go on the first watch.

So he set fire to his log, and he went out around the place, and Bran

with him. He went farther and farther till at last he saw a bright

light, and when he came to the place where it was, he saw a large house.

He went inside, and there was a great company of very strange-looking

men in it, and they drinking out of a single cup. One of the men, that

seemed to be the highest, gave the cup to the man nearest him; and after

he had drunk his fill he passed it on to the next, and so on to the

last. And while it was going round, he said: "This is the great cup that

was taken from Finn, son of Cumhal, a hundred years ago, and however

many men may be together, every man of them can drink his fill from it,

of whatever sort of drink he has a mind for."

Dubh was sitting near the door, on the edge of the crowd, and when the

cup came to him he took a drink from it, and then he slipped away in the

dark, bringing it with him. And when he came to the place where Finn

was, his log was burned out.

Then it was the turn of Dun to go out, for the second lot had fallen on

him, and he put a light to his log, and went out, and Bran with him.

He walked on through the night till he saw a fire that was shining from

a large house, and when he went in he saw a crowd of men, and they

fighting. And a very old man that was in a high place above the rest

called out: "Stop fighting now, for I have a better gift for you than

the one you lost to-night." And with that he drew a knife out of his

belt and held it up, and said: "This is the wonderful knife, the small

knife of division, that was stolen from Finn, son of Cumhal, a hundred

years ago; and you have but to cut on a bone with that knife and you

will get your fill of the best meat in the world." Then he gave the

knife to the man nearest him, and a bare bone with it, and the man began

to cut, and there came off the bone slices of the best meat in the

world.

The knife and the bone were sent round then from man to man till they

came to Dun, and as soon as he had the knife in his hand he slipped out

unknown and hurried back, and he had just got to the well where Finn

was, when his part of the log burned out.

Then Glasan lighted his log and went out on his watch till he came to

the house, the same way the others did. And he looked in and he saw the

floor full of dead bodies, and he thought to himself: "There must be

some great wonder here. And if I lie down on the floor and put some of

the bodies over me," he said, "I will be able to see all that happens."

So he lay down and pulled some of the bodies over him, and he was not

long there till he saw an old hag coming into the house, having one leg

and one arm and one upper tooth, that was long enough to serve her in

place of a crutch. And when she came inside the door she took up the

first dead body she met with, and threw it aside, for it was lean. And

as she went on, she took two bites out of every fat body she met with,

and threw away every lean one.

She had her fill of flesh and blood before she came to Glasan, and she

dropped down on the floor and fell asleep, and Glasan thought that every

breath she drew would bring down the roof on his head. He rose up then

and looked at her, and wondered at the bulk of her body. And at last he

drew his sword and hit her a slash that killed her; but if he did, three

young men leaped out of her body. And Glasan made a stroke that killed

the first of them, and Bran killed the second, but the third made his

escape.

Glasan made his way back then, and just when he got to where Finn was,

his log of wood was burned out, and the day was beginning to break.

And when Finn rose up in the morning he asked news of the three

watchers, and they gave him the cup and the knife and told him all they

had seen, and he gave great praise to Dubh and to Dun; but to Glasan he

said: "It might have been as well for you to have left that old hag

alone, for I am in dread the third young man may bring trouble on us

all."

It happened at the end of twenty-one years, Finn and the Fianna were at

their hunting in the hills, and they saw a Red-Haired Man coming

towards them, and he spoke to no one, but came and stood before Finn.

"What is it you are looking for?" said Finn. "I am looking for a master

for the next twenty-one years," he said. "What wages are you asking?"

said Finn. "No wages at all, but only if I die before the twenty-one

years are up, to bury me on Inis Caol, the Narrow Island." "I will do

that for you," said Finn.

So the Red-Haired Man served Finn well through the length of twenty

years. But in the twenty-first year he began to waste and to wither

away, and he died.

And when he was dead, the Fianna were no way inclined to go to Inis Caol

to bury him. But Finn said he would break his word for no man, and that

he himself would bring his body there. And he took an old white horse

that had been turned loose on the hills, and that had got younger and

not older since it was put out, and he put the body of the Red-Haired

Man on its back, and let it take its own way, and he himself followed

it, and twelve men of the Fianna.

And when they came to Inis Caol they saw no trace of the horse or of the

body. And there was an open house on the island, and they went in. And

there were seats for every man of them inside, and they sat down to rest

for a while.

But when they tried to rise up it failed them to do it, for there was

enchantment on them. And they saw the Red-Haired Man standing before

them in that moment.

"The time is come now," he said, "for me to get satisfaction from you

for the death of my mother and my two brothers that were killed by

Glasan in the house of the dead bodies." He began to make an attack on

them then, and he would have made an end of them all, but Finn took

hold of the Dord Fiann, and blew a great blast on it.

And before the Red-Haired Man was able to kill more than three of them,

Diarmuid, grandson of Duibhne, that had heard the sound of the Dord

Fiann, came into the house and made an end of him, and put an end to the

enchantment. And Finn, with the nine that were left of the Fianna, came

back again to Almhuin.

CHAPTER III. THE HOUND

One day the three battalions of the Fianna came to Magh Femen, and there

they saw three young men waiting for them, having a hound with them; and

there was not a colour in the world but was on that hound, and it was

bigger than any other hound.

"Where do you come from, young men?" said Finn. "Out of the greater

Iruath in the east," said they; "and our names are Dubh, the Dark, and

Agh, the Battle, and Ilar, the Eagle." "What is it you came for?" "To

enter into service, and your friendship," said they. "What good will it

do us, you to be with us?" said Finn. "We are three," said they, "and

you can make a different use of each one of us." "What uses are those?"

said Finn. "I will do the watching for all the Fianna of Ireland and of

Alban," said one of them. "I will take the weight of every fight and

every battle that will come to them, the way they can keep themselves in

quiet," said the second. "I will meet every troublesome thing that might

come to my master," said the third; "and let all the wants of the world

be told to me and I will satisfy them. And I have a pipe with me," he

said; "and all the men of the world would sleep at the sound of it, and

they in their sickness. And as to the hound," he said, "as long as there

are deer in Ireland he will get provision for the Fianna every second

night. And I myself," he said, "will get it on the other nights." "What

will you ask of us to be with us like that?" said Finn. "We will ask

three things," they said: "no one to come near to the place where we

have our lodging after the fall of night; nothing to be given out to us,

but we to provide for ourselves; and the worst places to be given to us

in the hunting." "Tell me by your oath now," said Finn, "why is it you

will let no one see you after nightfall?" "We have a reason," said they;

"but do not ask it of us, whether we are short or long on the one path

with you. But we will tell you this much," they said, "every third

night, one of us three is dead and the other two are watching him, and

we have no mind for any one to be looking at us."

So Finn promised that; but if he did there were some of the Fianna were

not well pleased because of the ways of those three men, living as they

did by themselves, and having a wall of fire about them, and they would

have made an end of them but for Finn protecting them.

About that time there came seven men of poetry belonging to the people

of Cithruadh, asking the fee for a poem, three times fifty ounces of

gold and the same of silver to bring back to Cithruadh at Teamhair.

"Whatever way we get it, we must find some way to get that," said a man

of the Fianna. Then the three young men from Iruath said: "Well, men of

learning," they said, "would you sooner get the fee for your poem

to-night or to-morrow?" "To-morrow will be time enough," said they.

And the three young men went to the place where the hound had his bed a

little way off from the rath, and the hound threw out of his mouth

before them the three times fifty ounces of gold and three times fifty

of silver, and they gave them to the men of poetry, and they went away.

Another time Finn said: "What can the three battalions of the Fianna do

to-night, having no water?" And one of the men of Iruath said: "How many

drinking-horns are with you?" "Three hundred and twelve," said Caoilte.

"Give me the horns into my hand," said the young man, "and whatever you

will find in them after that, you may drink it." He filled the horns

then with beer and they drank it, and he did that a second and a third

time; and with the third time of filling they were talkative and their

wits confused. "This is a wonderful mending of the feast," said Finn.

And they gave the place where all that happened the name of the Little

Rath of Wonders.

And one time after that again there came to Finn three bald red clowns,

holding three red hounds in their hands, and three deadly spears. And

there was poison on their clothes and on their hands and their feet, and

on everything they touched. And Finn asked them who were they. And they

said they were three sons of Uar, son of Indast of the Tuatha de Danaan;

and it was by a man of the Fianna, Caoilte son of Ronan, their father

was killed in the battle of the Tuatha de Danaan on Slieve nan Ean, the

Mountain of Birds, in the east. "And let Caoilte son of Ronan give us

the blood-fine for him now," they said. "What are your names?" said

Finn. "Aincel and Digbail and Espaid; Ill-wishing and Harm and Want are

our names. And what answer do you give us now, Finn?" they said. "No one

before me ever gave a blood-fine for a man killed in battle, and I will

not give it," said Finn. "We will do revenge and robbery on you so,"

said they. "What revenge is that?" said Finn. "It is what I will do,"

said Aincel, "if I meet with two or three or four of the Fianna, I will

take their feet and their hands from them." "It is what I will do,"

said Digbail, "I will not leave a day without loss of a hound or a

serving-boy or a fighting man to the Fianna of Ireland." "And I myself

will be always leaving them in want of people, or of a hand, or of an

eye," said Espaid. "Without we get some help against them," said

Caoilte, "there will not be one of us living at the end of a year."

"Well," said Finn, "we will make a dun and stop here for a while, for I

will not be going through Ireland and these men following after me, till

I find who are the strongest, themselves or ourselves."

So the Fianna made little raths for themselves all about Slieve Mis, and

they stopped there through a month and a quarter and a year. And through

all that time the three red bald-headed men were doing every sort of

hurt and harm upon them.

But the three sons of the King of Iruath came to speak with Finn, and it

is what they said: "It is our wish, Finn, to send the hound that is with

us to go around you three times in every day, and however many may be

trying to hurt or to rob you, they will not have power to do it after

that. But let there be neither fire nor arms nor any other dog in the

house he goes into," they said. "I will let none of these things go into

the one house with him," said Finn, "and he will go safe back to you."

So every day the hound would be sent to Finn, having his chain of ridges

of red gold around his neck, and he would go three times around Finn,

and three times he would put his tongue upon him. And to the people that

were nearest to the hound when he came into the house it would seem like

as if a vat of mead was being strained, and to others there would come

the sweet smell of an apple garden.

And every harm and sickness the three sons of Uar would bring on the

Fianna, the three sons of the King of Iruath would take it off them

with their herbs and their help and their healing.

And after a while the High King of Ireland came to Slieve Mis with a

great, troop of his men, to join with Finn and the Fianna. And they told

the High King the whole story, and how the sons of Uar were destroying

them, and the three sons of the King of Iruath were helping them against

them. "Why would not the men that can do all that find some good spell

that would drive the sons of Uar out of Ireland?" said the High King.

With that Caoilte went looking for the three young men from Iruath and

brought them to the High King. "These are comely men," said the High

King, "good in their shape and having a good name. And could you find

any charm, my sons," he said, "that will drive out these three enemies

that are destroying the Fianna of Ireland?" "We would do that if we

could find those men near us," said they; "and it is where they are

now," they said, "at Daire's Cairn at the end of the raths." "Where are

Garb-Cronan, the Rough Buzzing One, and Saltran of the Long Heel?" said

Finn. "Here we are, King of the Fianna," said they. "Go out to those men

beyond, and tell them I will give according to the judgment of the King

of Ireland in satisfaction for their father." The messengers went out

then and brought them in, and they sat down on the bank of the rath.

Then the High King said: "Rise up, Dubh, son of the King of Iruath, and

command these sons of Uar with a spell to quit Ireland." And Dubh rose

up, and he said: "Go out through the strength of this spell and this

charm, you three enemies of the Fianna, one-eyed, lame-thighed,

left-handed, of the bad race. And go out on the deep bitter sea," he

said, "and let each one of you strike a blow of his sword on the head

of his brothers. For it is long enough you are doing harm and

destruction on the King of the Fianna, Finn, son of Cumhal."

With that the hound sent a blast of wind under them that brought them

out into the fierce green sea, and each of them struck a blow on the

head of the others. And that was the last that was seen of the three

destroying sons of Uar, Aincel and Digbail and Espaid.

But after the time of the Fianna, there came three times in the one

year, into West Munster, three flocks of birds from the western sea

having beaks of bone and fiery breath, and the wind from their wings was

as cold as a wind of spring. And the first time they came was at reaping

time, and every one of them brought away an ear of corn from the field.

And the next time they came they did not leave apple on tree, or nut on

bush, or berry on the rowan; and the third time they spared no live

thing they could lift from the ground, young bird or fawn or silly

little child. And the first day they came was the same day of the year

the three sons of Uar were put out in the sea.

And when Caoilte, that was one of the last of the Fianna, and that was

living yet, heard of them, he remembered the sons of Uar, and he made a

spell that drove them out into the sea again, and they perished there by

one another.

It was about the length of a year the three sons of the King of Iruath

stopped with Finn. And at the end of that time Donn and Dubhan, two sons

of the King of Ulster, came out of the north to Munster. And one night

they kept watch for the Fianna, and three times they made a round of the

camp. And it is the way the young men from Iruath used to be, in a place

by themselves apart from the Fianna, and their hound in the middle

between them; and at the fall of night there used a wall of fire to be

around them, the way no one could look at them.

And the third time the sons of the King of Ulster made the round of the

camp, they saw the fiery wall, and Donn said: "It is a wonder the way

those three young men are through the length of a year now, and their

hound along with them, and no one getting leave to look at them."

With that he himself and his brother took their arms in their hands, and

went inside the wall of fire, and they began looking at the three men

and at the hound. And the great hound they used to see every day at the

hunting was at this time no bigger than a lap-dog that would be with a

queen or a high person. And one of the young men was watching over the

dog, and his sword in his hand, and another of them was holding a vessel

of white silver to the mouth of the dog; and any drink any one of the

three would ask for, the dog would put it out of his mouth into the

vessel.

Then one of the young men said to the hound: "Well, noble one and brave

one and just one, take notice of the treachery that is done to you by

Finn." When the dog heard that he turned to the King of Ulster's sons,

and there rose a dark Druid wind that blew away the shields from their

shoulders and the swords from their sides into the wall of fire. And

then the three men came out and made an end of them; and when that was

done the dog came and breathed on them, and they turned to ashes on the

moment, and there was never blood or flesh or bone of them found after.

And the three battalions of the Fianna divided themselves into companies

of nine, and went searching through every part of Ireland for the King

of Ulster's two sons.

And as to Finn, he went to Teamhair Luachra, and no one with him but the

serving-lads and the followers of the army. And the companies of nine

that were looking for the King of Ulster's sons came back to him there

in the one night; but they brought no word of them, if they were dead or

living.

But as to the three sons of the King of Iruath and the hound that was

with them, they were seen no more by Finn and the Fianna.

CHAPTER IV. RED RIDGE

There was another young man came and served Finn for a while; out of

Connacht he came, and he was very daring, and the Red Ridge was the name

they gave him. And he all but went from Finn one time, because of his

wages that were too long in coming to him. And the three battalions of

the Fianna came trying to quiet him, but he would not stay for them. And

at the last Finn himself came, for it is a power he had, if he would

make but three verses he would quiet any one. And it is what he said:

"Daring Red Ridge," he said, "good in battle, if you go from me to-day

with your great name it is a good parting for us. But once at Rath Cro,"

he said, "I gave you three times fifty ounces in the one day; and at Cam

Ruidhe I gave you the full of my cup of silver and of yellow gold. And

do you remember," he said, "the time we were at Rath Ai, when we found

the two women, and when we ate the nuts, myself and yourself were there

together."

And after that the young man said no more about going from him.

And another helper came to Finn one time he was fighting at a ford, and

all his weapons were used or worn with the dint of the fight. And there

came to him a daughter of Mongan of the Sidhe, bringing him a flat stone

having a chain of gold to it. And he took the stone and did great deeds

with it. And after the fight the stone fell into the ford, that got the

name of Ath Liag Finn.

And that stone will never be found till the Woman of the Waves will find

it, and will bring it to land on a Sunday morning; and on that day seven

years the world will come to an end.

BOOK THREE: THE BATTLE OF THE WHITE STRAND.

CHAPTER I. THE ENEMIES OF IRELAND

Of all the great battles the Fianna fought to keep the foreigners out of

Ireland, the greatest was the one that was fought at Finntraigh the

White Strand, in Munster; and this is the whole story of it, and of the

way the Fianna came to have so great a name.

One time the enemies of Ireland gathered together under Daire Donn, High

King of the Great World, thinking to take Ireland and to put it under

tribute.

The King of Greece was of them, and the King of France, and the King of

the Eastern World, and Lughman of the Broad Arms, King of the Saxons,

and Fiacha of the Long Hair, King of the Gairean, and Tor the son of

Breogan, King of the Great Plain, and Sligech, son of the King of the

Men of Cepda, and Comur of the Crooked Sword, King of the Men of the

Dog-Heads, and Caitchenn, King of the Men of the Cat-Heads, and Caisel

of the Feathers, King of Lochlann, and Madan of the Bent Neck, son of

the King of the Marshes, and three kings from the rising of the sun in

the east, and Ogarmach, daughter of the King of Greece, the best

woman-warrior that ever came into the world, and a great many other

kings and great lords.

The King of the World asked then: "Who is there can give me knowledge of

the harbours of Ireland?" "I will do that for you, and I will bring you

to a good harbour," said Glas, son of Bremen, that had been put out of

Ireland by Finn for doing some treachery.

Then the armies set out in their ships, and they were not gone far when

the wind rose and the waves, and they could hear nothing but the wild

playing of the sea-women, and the screams of frightened birds, and the

breaking of ropes and of sails. But after a while, when the wind found

no weakness in the heroes, it rose from them and went up into its own

high place. And then the sea grew quiet and the waves grew tame and the

harbours friendly, and they stopped for a while at an island that was

called the Green Rock. But the King of the World said then: "It is not a

harbour like this you promised me, Glas, son of Dremen, but a shore of

white sand where my armies could have their fairs and their gatherings

the time they would not be fighting." "I know a harbour of that sort in

the west of Ireland," said Glas, "the Harbour of the White Strand in

Corca Duibhne." So they went into their ships again, and went on over

the sea towards Ireland.

CHAPTER II. CAEL AND CREDHE