. Then again did they
spread their wings and fly above the green grass on and on, until they
reached the hills and trees that surrounded their old home. But, alas!
only the ruins of Lir's dwelling were left. Around was a wilderness
overgrown with rank grass, nettles, and weeds.

Too downhearted to stir, the swans slept that night within the ruined
walls of their old home, but, when day broke, each could no longer bear
the loneliness, and again they flew westward. And it was not until they
came to Inis Glora that they alighted. On a small lake in the heart of
the island they made their home, and, by their enchanting music, they
drew to its shores all the birds of the west, until the lake came to be
called "The Lake of the Bird-flocks."

Slowly passed the years, but a great longing filled the hearts of the
children of Lir. When would the good saint come to Erin? When would the
chime of the Christ-bell peal over land and sea?

One rosy dawn the swans awoke among the rushes of the Lake of the
Bird-flocks, and strange and faint was the sound that floated to them
from afar. Trembling, they nestled close the one to the other, until the
brothers stretched their wings and fluttered hither and thither in great
fear. Yet trembling they flew back to their sister, who had remained
silent among the sedges. Crouching by her side they asked, "What, dear
sister, can be the strange, faint sound that steals across our island?"

With quiet, deep joy Finola answered: "Dear brothers, it is the chime of
the Christ-bell that ye hear, the Christ-bell of which we have dreamed
through thrice three hundred years. Soon the spell will be broken, soon
our sufferings will end." Then did Finola glide from the shelter of the
sedges across the rose-lit lake, and there by the shore of the Western
Sea she chanted a song of hope.

Calm crept into the hearts of the brothers as Finola sang, and, as she
ended, once more the chime stole across the isle. No longer did it
strike terror into the hearts of the children of Lir, rather as a note
of peace did it sink into their souls.

Then, when the last chime died, Finola said, "Let us sing to the great
King of Heaven and Earth."

Far stole the sweet strains of the white swans, far across Inis Glora,
until they reached the good Saint Kemoc, for whose early prayers the
Christ-bell had chimed.

And he, filled with wonder at the surpassing sweetness of the music,
stood mute, but when it was revealed unto him t