All these, I confess, seem to me to belong to the dusty domain of archæologists; but Maeve figures in a story which before long may be as well known as the epic of the Nibelungs, so strong is the grip which Gaelic mythology begins to take upon the imagination of the world--an imagination guided by Irish-born poets, not the least of whom has his native place here in Sligo. William Butler Yeats was born and nurtured here, and these names and these hills and rivers coloured his earliest poetry. From Maeve's cairn--it is an easy climb--you can see north of you to all the mountains of West Donegal, from Barnesmore to Slieve League and Glen Head: south and west you can see the heights of Mayo, Nephin farthest inland, then Croaghpatrick--and stretching away far out to the western sea, the long cliffy shore of Erris, ending up with those peaked rocks, the Stags of Broadhaven. But more famous by far than Knocknarea is the greater mountain, flat-topped Benbulben, which lies north of the lake and the town. And for those who would know the beauties of this county, as I unhappily do not know them, the place of all places to visit is the road which, following the coast, turns round the shoulder of Benbulben, and so running inwards along the south shore of Donegal Bay, brings you ultimately to the pleasant watering-place of Bundoran. And, since I must write of what I know, let me limit myself to two of the historic associations of that drive. One of these memories is legendary. In the cycle of stories which deal with the deeds of Finn MacCool and the Fianna of Ireland, it is told how Finn, old and subtle and strong, went to Tara to be married to the High King's daughter; but she, the Lady Gránia, cast eyes of desire on one of the Fianna, Diarmuid of the curling dusky hair and the berry-red cheeks, who was reputed for the best lover of women in all the world: and, drugging the guest cup, Gránia fled with Diarmuid, till after many escapes and wanderings, the two made their peace with Finn and with the High King Cormac MacArt, and settled down to dwell on the round hill of Keshcorran in County Sligo. Long years they lived together, and Diarmuid was content, but Gránia, the king's daughter, thought her house slighted because the two greatest men in Ireland, Finn MacCool and Cormac MacArt, had never entered its door. "They are enemies to me," said Diarmuid. "Make a feast and win their friendship," said Gránia, and it was agreed; so Cormac with his counsellors and Finn with his Fianna came and hunted for many days about Keshcorran and feasted for many nights in Rath Grainne. But at last a day came when they were hunting, and omens had warned Diarmuid to stay back from the chase: but he set them aside, and followed the hunt to the top of Benbulben and there was Finn standing alone. "It is the wild boar of Benbulben they are hunting," said Finn, "and it is an enchanted beast, and its fate is to have life while you live, Diarmuid, and to die when you die." Then