Lir and his people, hearing that Eva had arrived at Bove Derg's palace without the children, became alarmed, and went southwards without delay; till pa.s.sing by the sh.o.r.e of Lake Darvra, they saw the swans. And the swans swam up and spoke to them, at which they wondered greatly. But when they told Lir that they were indeed his four children whom the witch-lady had turned into birds, he and his people were struck with amazement and horror; and they uttered three long mournful cries of grief and lamentation. And when Lir had heard from Finola how the matter happened, he prepared to set out in quest of Eva. And bidding farewell to the children for a time, he chanted this lay:--

The time has come for me to part: No more, alas! my children dear, Your rosy smiles shall glad my heart, Or light the gloomy home of Lir.

Dark was the day when first I brought This Eva in my home to dwell!

Hard was the woman's heart that wrought This cruel and malignant spell!

I lay me down to rest in vain; For, through the livelong, sleepless night, My little lov'd ones, pictured plain, Stand ever there before my sight.

Finola, once my pride and joy; Dark Aed, adventurous and bold; Bright Ficra, gentle, playful boy; And little Conn, with curls of gold;--

Struck down on Darvra's reedy sh.o.r.e, By wicked Eva's magic power: Oh, children, children, never more My heart shall know one peaceful hour.

After this he fared southwards till he arrived at the palace, where he found Eva. And the king, Bove Derg, when Lir had told him what Eva had done, was in great wrath; for he loved those little children. And calling Eva to him he spoke to her fiercely and asked her what shape of all others, on the earth, or above the earth, or beneath the earth, she most abhorred, and into which she most dreaded to be transformed.

And she, being forced to answer truly, said, "A demon of the air."

"That is the form you shall take," said Bove Derg; and as he spoke he struck Eva with a druidical magic wand, and turned her into a demon of the air. She opened her wings, and flew with a scream upwards and away through the clouds; and she is still a demon of the air, and she shall be a demon of the air till the end of time.

After this, Lir and the Dedannans came to live on the sh.o.r.e of the lake, to be near the swans and to speak with them. And so the swans pa.s.sed their time on the waters. During the day they discoursed lovingly with their father and their friends; and at night they chanted their slow, sweet, fairy music, the most delightful that was ever heard by men; so that all who listened to it, even those who were in grief, or sickness, or pain, forgot their sorrows and their sufferings, and fell into a gentle, sweet sleep from which they awoke bright and happy.

At last the three hundred years[30-1] came to an end, and Finola said to her brothers:--

"Do you know, my dear brothers, that we have come to the end of our time here; and that we have only this one night to spend on Lake Darvra?"

[30-1] Three hundred years: the Dedannans were regarded as G.o.ds and lived an immensely long time.

When the three sons of Lir heard this, they were in great distress and sorrow; for they were almost as happy on Lake Darvra, surrounded by their friends, and conversing with them day by day, as if they had been in their father's house in their own natural shapes; whereas they should now live on the gloomy and tempest-tossed Sea of Moyle, far away from all human society.

Early next morning, the swans came to the margin of the lake to speak to their father and their friends for the last time, and to bid them farewell; and Finola chanted this lay--

I.

Farewell, farewell, our father dear!

The last sad hour has come: Farewell, Bove Derg! farewell to all, Till the dreadful day of doom!

We go from friends and scenes beloved, To a home of grief and pain; And that day of woe Shall come and go, Before we meet again!

II.

We live for ages on stormy Moyle, In loneliness and fear; The kindly words of loving friends We never more shall hear.

Four joyous children long ago; Four snow-white swans to-day; And on Moyle's wild sea Our robe shall be The cold and briny spray.

III.

Far down on the misty stream of time, When three hundred years are o'er, Three hundred more in storm and cold, By Glora's desolate sh.o.r.e; Till Decca fair is Largnen's spouse; Till north and south unite; Till the hymns are sung, And the bells are rung, At the dawn of the pure faith's light.

IV.

Arise, my brothers, from Darvra's wave On the wings of the southern wind; We leave our father and friends to-day In measureless grief behind.

Ah! sad the parting, and sad our flight To Moyle's tempestuous main; For the day of woe Shall come and go, Before we meet again!

The four swans then spread their wings, and rose from the surface of the water in sight of all their friends, till they reached a great height in the air; then resting, and looking downwards for a moment, they flew straight to the north, till they alighted on the Sea of Moyle between Erin and Alban.

VII.

THE FOUR WHITE SWANS ON THE SEA OF MOYLE.

Miserable was the abode and evil the plight of the children of Lir on the Sea of Moyle. Their hearts were wrung with sorrow for their father and their friends; and when they looked towards the steep rocky, far-stretching coasts, and saw the great, dark, wild sea around them, they were overwhelmed with fear and despair. They began also to suffer from cold and hunger, so that all the hardships they had endured on Lake Darvra appeared as nothing compared with their suffering on the sea-current of Moyle.

And so they lived, till one night a great tempest fell upon the sea.

Finola, when she saw the sky filled with black, threatening clouds, thus addressed her brothers:--

"Beloved brothers, we have made a bad preparation for this night: for it is certain that the coming storm will separate us; and now let us appoint a place of meeting, or it may happen that we shall never see each other again."

And they answered, "Dear sister, you speak truly and wisely; and let us fix on Carricknarone,[33-1] for that is a rock that we are all very well acquainted with."

[33-1] Carricknarone, the "Rock of the Seals": probably the Skerry rock near Portrush in Antrim: but the old name is now forgotten.

And they appointed Carricknarone as their place of meeting.

Midnight came, and with it came the beginning of the storm. A wild, rough wind swept over the dark sea, the lightnings flashed, and the great waves rose, and increased their violence and their thunder.

The swans were soon scattered over the waters, so that not one of them knew in what direction the others had been driven. During all that night they were tossed about by the roaring winds and waves, and it was with much difficulty they preserved their lives.

Towards morning the storm abated, the sky cleared, and the sea became again calm and smooth; and Finola swam to Carricknarone. But she found none of her brothers there, neither could she see any trace of them when she looked all round from the summit of the rock over the wide face of the sea.

Then she became terrified, thinking she should never see them again; and she began to lament them plaintively.

[On this incident Thomas Moore wrote the following beautiful song. A person is supposed to be listening to Finola, and--in the first four lines of the song--calls on the winds and the waves to be silent that he may hear.]

SILENT, O MOYLE!

Silent, O Moyle! be the roar of thy water, Break not, ye breezes! your chain of repose, While, murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter Tells to the night-star her tale of woes.

When shall the Swan, her death-note singing, Sleep with wings in darkness furl'd?

When will Heav'n, its sweet bell ringing, Call my spirit from this stormy world?

Sadly, O Moyle! to thy winter-wave weeping, Fate bids me languish long ages away; Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping Still doth the pure light its dawning delay When will that day-star, mildly springing, Warm our Isle with peace and love?

When will Heaven, its sweet bell ringing, Call my spirit to the fields above?