ning they were frozen to the ground and could free themselves only
with sore pain, for they left clinging to the ice-bound rock the soft
down of their breasts, the quills from their white wings, and the skin
of their poor feet.

And when the sun melted the ice-bound surface of the waters, and the
swans swam once more in the sea of Moyle, the salt water entered their
wounds, and they well-nigh died of pain. But in time the down on their
breasts and the feathers on their wings grew, and they were healed of
their wounds.

The years dragged on, and by day Finola and her brothers would fly
toward the shores of the Green Island of Erin, or to the rocky blue
headlands of Alba, or they would swim far out into a dim gray wilderness
of waters. But ever as night fell it was their doom to return to the sea
of Moyle.

One day, as they looked toward the Green Isle, they saw coming to the
coast a troop of horsemen mounted on snow-white steeds, and their armor
glittered in the sun.

A cry of great joy went up from the children of Lir, for they had seen
no human form since they spread their wings above Lake Darvra, and flew
to the stormy sea of Moyle.

"Speak," said Finola to her brothers, "speak, and say if these be not
our own Dedannan folk." And Aed and Fiacra and Conn strained their eyes,
and Aed answered, "It seemeth, dear sister, to me, that it is indeed our
own people."

As the horsemen drew nearer and saw the four swans, each man shouted in
the Gaelic tongue, "Behold the children of Lir!"

And when Finola and her brothers heard once more the sweet Gaelic
speech, and saw the faces of their own people, their happiness was
greater than can be told. For long they were silent, but at length
Finola spake.

Of their life on the sea of Moyle she told, of the dreary rains and
blustering winds, of the giant waves and the roaring thunder, of the
black frost, and of their own poor battered and wounded bodies. Of their
loneliness of soul, of that she could not speak. "But tell us," she went
on, "tell us of our father, Lir. Lives he still, and Bove Derg, and our
dear Dedannan friends?"

Scarce could the Dedannans speak for the sorrow they had for Finola and
her brothers, but they told how Lir and Bove Derg were alive and well,
and were even now celebrating the Feast of Age at the house of Lir. "But
for their longing for you, your father and friends would be happy
indeed."

Glad then and of great comfort were the hearts of Finola