hat same Udan the chief of the Lupra who
had been placed under bonds to taste the porridge in the great cauldron
of Emania, into which pot he fell, and was taken captive with his wife,
and held for five weary years, until he surrendered that which he most
valued in the world, even his boots: the people of the hills laugh still
at the story, and the Leprecauns may still be mortified by it.

There came Bove Derg, the Fiery, seldom seen, and his harper the son of
Trogain, whose music heals the sick and makes the sad heart merry; Rochy
Mac Elathan, Dagda Mor, the Father of Stars, and his daughter from the
Cave of Cruachan; Credh Mac Aedh of Raghery and Cas Corach son of the
great Ollav; Mananaan Mac Lir came from his wide waters shouting louder
than the wind, with his daughters Cliona and Aoife and Etain Fair-Hair;
and Coll and Cecht and Mac Greina, the Plough, the Hazel, and the Sun
came with their wives, whose names are not forgotten, even Banba and
Fodla and Eire, names of glory. Lugh of the Long-Hand, filled with
mysterious wisdom, was not absent, whose father was sadly avenged on the
sons of Turann--these with their hosts.

And one came also to whom the hosts shouted with mighty love, even the
Serene One, Dana, the Mother of the gods, steadfast for ever. Her breath
is on the morning, her smile is summer. From her hand the birds of the
air take their food. The mild ox is her friend, and the wolf trots by
her friendly side; at her voice the daisy peeps from her cave and
the nettle couches his lance. The rose arrays herself in innocence,
scattering abroad her sweetness with the dew, and the oak tree laughs
to her in the air. Thou beautiful! the lambs follow thy footsteps, they
crop thy bounty in the meadows and are not thwarted: the weary men cling
to thy bosom everlasting. Through thee all actions and the deeds of
men, through thee all voices come to us, even the Divine Promise and the
breath of the Almighty from afar laden with goodness.

With wonder, with delight, the daughter of Murrachu watched the hosting
of the Shee. Sometimes her eyes were dazzled as a jewelled forehead
blazed in the sun, or a shoulder-torque of broad gold flamed like a
torch. On fair hair and dark the sun gleamed: white arms tossed and
glanced a moment and sank and reappeared. The eyes of those who did
not hesitate nor compute looked into her eyes, not appraising, not
questioning, but mild and unafraid. The voices of free people spoke in
her ea