.

Now Sheela the Scribe, having fasted from midnight until dawn, gazed
upon the Horn of Foreknowledge, and read there that it was wiser for her
to remain on guard at the Fairy Palace, while her sisters explored the
secret fastnesses of the labyrinth.

When Finola was apparelled to set forth upon her quest, Pearla thought
her the loveliest maiden upon the ridge of the world, and wondered
whether she meant to conquer the invader by force of arms or by the
power of beauty.

The rose and the lily were fighting together in her face, and one could
not tell which of them got the victory. Her arms and hands were like the
lime, her mouth was as red as a ripe strawberry, her foot as small and
as light as another one's hand, her form smooth and slender, and her
hair falling down from her head under combs of gold.++ One could not
look at her without being 'all over in love with her,' as Oisin said at
his first meeting with Niam of the Golden Hair. And as for Pearla, the
rose on her cheeks was heightened by her rage against the invader,
the delicate blossom of the sloe was not whiter than her neck, and her
glossy chestnut ringlets fell to her waist.

++ Description of the Princess in Guleesh na Guss Dhu.

Then the Gilla Dacker unleashed Bran, the keen-scented terrier hound,
and put a pearl-embroidered pillion on Enbarr of the Flowing Mane, and
the two dauntless maidens leaped upon her back, each bearing a broad
shield and a long polished, death-dealing spear. When Enbarr had been
given a free rein she set out for the labyrinth, trailing the Magic
Thread-Clue behind her, cleaving the air with long, active strides;
and if you know what the speed of a swallow is, flying across a
mountain-side, or the dry wind of a March day sweeping over the plains,
then you can understand nothing of the swiftness of this steed of the
flowing mane, acquired by the day by the maydens of Devorgilla.

Many were the dangers that beset the path of these two noble champions
on their quest for the Fairy Quicken Tree. Here they met an enormous
white stoat, but this was slain by the intrepid Bran, and they buried
its bleeding corse and raised a cairn over it, with the name 'Stoat'
graven on it in Ogam; there a druidical fairy mist sprang up in
their path to hide the way, but they pierced it with a note of their
far-reaching, clarion-toned voices,--an art learned in their native land
beyond the wave.

Now the dog Bran, being unhungered, and refusin