At the end of the month, as Connla stood by his father's side among the nobles, on the Plain of Arcomin, he saw the same lady approaching him from the west. And when she had come near, she addressed him in this manner-- "A glorious seat, indeed, has Connla among wretched, short-lived mortals, awaiting the dreadful stroke of death! But now, the ever-youthful people of Moy-mell, who never feel old age, and who fear not death, seeing thee day by day among thy friends, in the assemblies of thy Fatherland, love thee with a strange love; and they will make thee king over them if thou wilt come with me." When the king heard the words of the lady, he commanded his people to call the druid again to him, saying-- "Bring my druid, Coran, to me; for I see that the fairy lady has this day regained the power of her voice." At this the lady said, "Valiant Conn, fighter of a hundred, the faith of the druids has come to little honour among the upright, mighty, numberless people of this land. When the righteous law shall be restored, it will seal up the lips of the false, black demon; and his druids shall no longer have power to work their guileful spells." Now the king observed, and marvelled greatly, that whenever the lady was present, his son never spoke one word to any one, nay, even though they addressed him many times. And when the lady had ceased to speak, the king said-- "Connla, my son, has thy mind been moved by the words of the lady?" Connla spoke then, and replied, "Father, I am very unhappy; for though I love my people beyond all, yet I am filled with sadness on account of this lady!" When Connla had said this, the maiden again addressed him, and chanted these words in a very sweet voice-- THE CHANT OF THE FAIRY MAIDEN TO CONNLA OF THE GOLDEN HAIR. I. A land of youth, a land of rest, A land from sorrow free; It lies far off in the golden west, On the verge of the azure sea. A swift canoe of crystal bright, That never met mortal view-- We shall reach the land ere fall of night, In that strong and swift canoe: We shall reach the strand Of that sunny land, From druids and demons free; The land of rest, In the golden west, On the verge of the azure sea! II. A pleasant land of winding vales, bright streams, and verdurous plains, Where summer all the live-long year, in changeless splendour reigns; A peaceful land of calm delight, of everlasting bloom; Old age and death we never know, no sickness, care, or gloom; The land of youth, Of love and truth, From pain and sorrow free; The land of rest, In the golden west, On the verge of the azure sea! III.