"I will send Laeg with you," said Cuchullain. I do not care to go to an unknown place while I have my duties here." He then went to Laeg, asking him to go with Liban. "He is longing to go," thought Laeg, "but he mistrusts his power to get away. He has forgotten all he knew and did not wish to appear nothing before a woman. However, it can do no harm if I go and see what they do." Oh, marvel not if in our tale The gleaming figures come and go, More mystic splendors shine and pale Than in an age outworn we know. Their ignorance to us were wise: Their sins our virtue would outshine: A glory passed before their eyes: We hardly dream of the divine. In world may come romance, With all the lures of love and glamour; And woesome tragedy will chance To him whom fairy forms enamour. There slain illusions live anew To stay the soul with coy caresses; But he who only loves the True Slays them again, and onward presses. For golden chains are yet but chains, Enchanted dreams are yet but dreaming; And ere the soul its freedom gains It bursts all bonds, destroys all seeming. IV. The Maidens of the Sidhe "Yes, I'll go with the maid in the green mantle," muttered Laeg to himself; "but I'll don the crimson mantle of five folds which it is my right to wear in the land of the Sidhe, even though my earthly occupation is only the driving of a war-chariot." He began chanting softly; a golden gleam as of sunshine swept circling about him; then as the chant ceased a look of wild exultation came to his face, and he threw up his arms, so that for an instant he had the aspect he wore when guiding the great war-chariot of Cuchullain into the thick of battle. His swaying form fell softly upon the greensward, and above it floated a luminous figure clad in a crimson mantle, but whose face and bare arms were of the color of burnished bronze. So impassive and commanding was his face that even Liban faltered a little as she stole to his side. Cuchullain watched the two figures as they floated slowly over the dark expanse of the lake, till they suddenly disappeared, seemingly into its quiet surface. Then with his face buried in his hands he sat motionless, absorbed in deep thought, while he waited until the return of Laeg. The recumbent form of Liban rose from the crouch where it had lain entranced. Before her stood the phantom figure of Laeg. All in the house save herself were asleep, but with the conscious sleep of the Sidhe, and their shades spoke welcome to Laeg, each saying to him in liquid tones such as come never from lips of clay: "Welcome to you, Laeg; welcome because of her who brings you, of him who sent you, and of yourself."