And Eva made answer: "Three hundred years shall your home be on the smooth waters of this lone lake. Three hundred years shall ye pass on the stormy waters of the sea betwixt Erin and Alba, and three hundred years shall ye be tempest-tossed on the wild Western Sea. Until Decca be the Queen of Largnen, and the good saint come to Erin, and ye hear the chime of the Christ-bell, neither your plaints nor prayers, neither the love of your father Lir, nor the might of your King, Bove Derg, shall have power to deliver you from your doom. But lone white swans though ye be, ye shall keep forever your own sweet Gaelic speech, and ye shall sing, with plaintive voices, songs so haunting that your music will bring peace to the souls of those who hear. And still beneath your snowy plumage shall beat the hearts of Finola, Aed, Fiacra and Conn, and still forever shall ye be the children of Lir." [Illustration: FOUR SNOW-WHITE SWANS FLOATED ON THE BLUE LAKE] Then did Eva order the horses to be yoked to the chariot, and away westward did she drive. And swimming on the lone lake were four white swans. When Eva reached the palace of Bove Derg alone, greatly was he troubled lest evil had befallen the children of Lir. But the attendants, because of their great fear of Eva, dared not to tell the King of the magic spell she had wrought by the way. Therefore Bove Derg asked, "Wherefore, O Eva, come not Finola and her brothers to the palace this day?" And Eva answered: "Because, O King, Lir no longer trusteth thee, therefore would he not let the children come hither." But Bove Derg believed not his foster-daughter, and that night he secretly sent messengers across the hills to the dwelling of Lir. When the messengers came there, and told their errand, great was the grief of the father. And in the morning with a heavy heart he summoned a company of the Dedannans, and together they set out for the palace of Bove Derg. And it was not until sunset as they reached the lone shore of Lake Darvra, that they slackened speed. Lir alighted from his chariot and stood spellbound. What was that plaintive sound? The Gaelic words, his dear daughter's voice more enchanting even than of old, and yet, before and around, only the lone blue lake. The haunting music rang clearer, and as the last words died away, four snow-white swans glided from behind the sedges, and with a wild flap of wings flew toward the eastern shore. There, stricken with wonder, stood Lir. "Know, O Lir," said Finola, "that we are thy children, changed by the wicked magic of our stepmother into four white swans." When Lir and the Dedannan people heard these words, they wept aloud.