u the truth of that," said Finn; "it was made in Ireland by the
three sons of Cearmait Honey-Mouth; and nine men used to be sounding it,
and since it came to me I have fifty men sounding it." "And tell me
this," said Conan, "what is the music pleased you best of all you ever
heard?" "I will tell you that," said Finn; "the time the seven
battalions of the Fianna are gathered in the one place and raise their
spear-shafts over their heads, and the sharp whining of the clear, cold
wind goes through them, that is very sweet to me. And when the
drinking-hall is set out in Almhuin, and the cup-bearers give out the
bright cups to the chief men of the Fianna, that is very sweet to me;
and it is sweet to me to be listening to the voice of the sea-gull and
the heron, and the noise of the waves of Traig Liath, the song of the
three sons of Meardha, the whistle of Lugaidh's Son, and the voice of
the cuckoo in the beginning of summer, and the grunting of the pigs on
the Plain of Eithne, and the shouting of laughter in Doire." And it is
what he said: "The Dord in the green-topped woods, the lasting wash of
the waves against the shore, the noise of the waves at Traig Liath
meeting with the river of the White Trout; the three men that came to
the Fianna, a man of them gentle and a man of them rough, another man of
them ploughing the clouds, they were sweeter than any other thing.

"The grey mane of the sea, the time a man cannot follow its track; the
swell that brings the fish to the land, it is sleep-music, its sound is
sweet.

"Feargall, son of Fionn, a man that was ready-handed, it is long his
leap was, it is well marked his track is; he never gave a story that did
not do away with secrets; it is his voice was music of sleep to me."

And when Finn had answered all the questions so well, Conan said he
would give him his daughter, and that he would have a wedding-feast
ready at the end of a month.

They spent the rest of the night then in sleep; but Finn saw a dreadful
vision through his sleep that made him start three times from his bed.
"What makes you start from your bed, Finn?" said Diorraing. "It was the
Tuatha de Danaan I saw," said he, "taking up a quarrel against me, and
making a great slaughter of the Fianna."

Now as to the Fianna, they rested at Fotharladh of Moghna that night,
and they were downhearted, having no tidings of Finn. And early on the
morrow two of them, Bran Beag and Bran Mor, rose up and went to
Mac-an-Re