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 beautifu