he
world.

That was the last story the King's Son told from Maravaun's book, "The
Breastplate of Instruction." They had another little field of blue
flowers to cross, and as they went across it Fedelma told the King's Son

THE STORY OF THE CLOUD-WOMAN

XIII

The Cloud-woman, Mor, was the daughter
Of Griann, the Sun,--well, and she
Made a marriage to equal that grandeur,
For her Goodman was Lir, the Sea.

The Cloud-woman Mor, she had seven
Strong sons, and the story-books say
Their inches grew in the night-time,
And grew over again in the day.

The Cloud-woman Mor,--as they grew in
Their bone, she grew in her pride,
Till her haughtiness turned away, men say,
Her goodman Lir from her side;

Then she lived in Mor's Home and she watched
With pride her sons and her crop,
Till one day the wish in her grew
To view from the mountain-top
All, all that she owned, so she
Traveled without any stop.

And what did she see? A thousand

Fields and her own fields small, small!
"What a fine and wide place is Eirinn," said she,
"I am Mor, but not great after all."

Then a herdsman came, and he told her
That her sons had stolen away:
They had left the calves in the hollow,
With the goose-flock they would not stay:

They had seen three ships on the sea
And nothing would do them but go:
Mor wept and wept when she heard it,
And her tears made runnels below.

Then her shining splendor departed:
She went, and she left no trace,
And the Cloud-woman, Mor, was never
Beheld again in that place.

The proud woman, Mor, who was daughter
Of Griann, the Sun, and who made
A marriage to equal that grandeur,
Passed away as a shade.

XIV

And that was the last story that Fedelma told, for they had crossed the
Meadows of Brightness and had come to a nameless place--a stretch of
broken ground where there were black rocks and dead grass and bare roots
of trees with here and there a hawthorn tree in blossom. "I fear this
place. We must not halt here," Fedelma said.

And then a flock of ravens came from the rocks, and flying straight
at them attacked Fedelma and the King of Ireland's Son. The King's Son
sprang from the steed and taking his sword in his hand he fought the
ravens until he drove them away. They rode on again. But now the rave