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 for ever 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.
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