rriors of the Fomorians began to laugh; they laughed till
the cups fell from their grasp, and the spears dropped from their
hands, while the wine flowed from the broken bowls; they laughed until
their limbs were helpless with excess of glee.

Once more the Dagda touched his harp, but very, very softly. And now a
music stole forth as soft as dreams, and as sweet as joy: it was the
magic Music of Sleep. When they heard that, gently, gently, the
Fomorian women bowed their heads in slumber; the little children crept
to their mothers' laps; the old men nodded; and the young warriors
drooped in their seats and closed their eyes: one after another all the
Fomorians sank into sleep.

When they were all deep in slumber, the Dagda took his magic harp, and
he and his golden-haired warriors stole softly away, and came in safety
to their own homes again.

THE TAILOR AND THE THREE BEASTS[1]

[1] From Beside the Fire, Douglas Hyde (David Nutt, London).

There was once a tailor in Galway, and he started out on a journey to
go to the king's court at Dublin.

He had not gone far till he met a white horse, and he saluted him.

"God save you," said the tailor.

"God save you," said the horse. "Where are you going?"

"I am going to Dublin," said the tailor, "to build a court for the king
and to get a lady for a wife, if I am able to do it." For, it seems
the king had promised his daughter and a great lot of money to any one
who should be able to build up his court. The trouble was, that three
giants lived in the wood near the court, and every night they came out
of the wood and threw down all that was built by day. So nobody could
get the court built.

"Would you make me a hole," said the old white garraun, "where I could
go a-hiding whenever the people are for bringing me to the mill or the
kiln, so that they won't see me; for they have me perished doing work
for them."

"I'll do that, indeed," said the tailor, "and welcome."

He brought his spade and shovel, and he made a hole, and he said to the
old white horse to go down into it till he would see if it would fit
him. The white horse went down into the hole, but when he tried to
come up again, he was not able.

"Make a place for me now," said the white horse, "by which I'll come up
out of the hole here, whenever I'll be hungry."

"I will not," said the tailor; "remain where you are until I come back,
and I'll lift you up."

The tailor went forward next day,