The dwellers of those coast lands used to visit the shore in crowds to hear their sweet music and watch their graceful movements. But after a time they were caught by the strong current of Mull, and this drove the fair birds into the stormy seas between Erin and Alba. Here they endured many a woe; for sometimes they were separated from one another by the storm and darkness, and sometimes they were almost frozen to death in the icy floods. And so, tormented by the restless waves and the chill winds of winter, they waited for three hundred years. But one soft spring morning, when the ice-floes had drifted away and the wind sang gently over the mountains, as they floated along their own Lake Dairbreak, they heard the sound of a Christian bell. For St Patrick had come to Ireland with the glad Gospel news, and everywhere men were building churches, and hastening to fill them with worshippers. So when the sound of the distant bell floated over the water, the spell was broken, and the Children of Lir returned to their own shapes. But they had lived so long that, after they had learnt the Christian faith, they were glad to lie down and rest for ever. They were all buried in the self-same tomb, and after their death men made songs about them; and every Irish boy and girl to this day loves to hear the story of the Swan-Children of Lir. _From the earliest mythological cycle of Celtic poems. No copy of it is found in writing till the early seventeenth century._ The Quest of the Seven Champions I. The Seven Champions of Arthur These stories were told in old days to British boys and girls as they sat round the fireside and heard the wind outside skirling among the wild Welsh hills. But, no doubt, in time they crossed the border, and were told also to English children, such as most of you, who knew and loved the charming tales of Arthur and his knights. In the days of King Arthur there lived a noble young prince named Kilhugh, to whom it had been foretold that he should never marry until he could win for his wife the maiden Olwen, daughter of Thornogre Thistlehair, the Chief of the Giants. But, though he was full of love towards the very name of the unknown maid, he could not find out where she lived, nor could anyone tell him anything about her. He was not cast down, however, but set off upon his steed of dappled grey to seek help from his kinsman Arthur. A fine sight he was, indeed, as he rode along on his prancing horse. His bridle was made of golden chains, his saddle-cloth of fine purple, from the corners of which hung four golden apples of great value.