eat Lake did Bove Derg meet him.
"Oh, Lir, wherefore have thy children come not hither?" And Eva stood by
the King.

Stern and sad rang the answer of Lir: "Alas! Eva, your foster-child,
hath by her wicked magic changed them into four snow-white swans. On the
blue waters of Lake Darvra dwell Finola, Aed, Fiacra, and Conn, and
thence come I that I may avenge their doom."

A silence as the silence of death fell upon the three, and all was still
save that Eva trembled greatly. But ere long Bove Derg spake. Fierce and
angry did he look, as, high above his foster-daughter, he held his magic
wand. Awful was his voice as he pronounced her doom: "Wretched woman,
henceforth shalt thou no longer darken this fair earth, but as a demon
of the air shalt thou dwell in misery till the end of time." And of a
sudden from out her shoulders grew black, shadowy wings, and, with a
piercing scream, she swirled upward, until the awe-stricken Dedannans
saw nought save a black speck vanish among the lowering clouds. And as a
demon of the air do Eva's black wings swirl her through space to this
day.

But great and good was Bove Derg. He laid aside his magic wand and so
spake: "Let us, my people, leave the Great Lake, and let us pitch our
tents on the shores of Lake Darvra. Exceeding dear unto us are the
children of Lir, and I, Bove Derg, and Lir, their father, have vowed
henceforth to make our home forever by the lone waters where they
dwell."

And when it was told throughout the Green Island of Erin of the fate of
the children of Lir and of the vow that Bove Derg had vowed, from north,
south, east, and west did the Dedannans flock to the lake, until a
mighty host dwelt by its shores.

And by day Finola and her brothers knew not loneliness, for in the sweet
Gaelic speech they told of their joys and fears; and by night the mighty
Dedannans knew no sorrowful memories, for by haunting songs were they
lulled to sleep, and the music brought peace to their souls.

Slowly did the years go by, and upon the shoulders of Bove Derg and Lir
fell the long white hair. Fearful grew the four swans, for the time was
not far off when they must wing their flight north to the wild sea of
Moyle.

And when at length the sad day dawned, Finola told her brothers how
their three hundred happy years on Lake Darvra were at an end, and how
they must now leave the peace of its lone waters for evermore.

Then, slowly and sadly, did the four swans glide to the margin