"None," replied Fingula; "there is no man in existence able to effect that change, nor can it ever take place until a woman from the south, named Deocha, daughter of Ingri, the son of Black Hugh, and a man from the north, named Lairgnean, the son of Colman, shall occasion our deliverance in the time of THE TAILGEAN,[A] when the Christian faith and charity shall come into Ireland." When Lir and his attendants heard these words, they uttered three doleful cries. "Are you satisfied," said Lir, "since you retain your speech and reason, to come and remain with us?" "It is not in our power to do so," replied Fingula, "nor are we at liberty to commit ourselves to the hands of man, until what I have told you shall have come to pass. But in the mean time we possess our speech and our mental faculties as fully as ever, and are moreover endowed with one additional quality, which is that we can sing the most melodious airs that the world has ever heard, and there is no mortal that would not feel a pleasure in listening to our voices. Remain with us for this night, and you shall hear our music." [Footnote A: Tailgean, or the Holy Offspring, a name supposed to have been applied by the Druids to St. Patrick, previous to his arrival in Ireland.--_O'Brien's Irish Dictionary._] When Lir had heard these words, he ordered his followers to unharness their steeds, and they remained during the whole night on the strand, listening to the music of the birds, until all were lulled to sleep by the enchanting melody, excepting Lir alone. In the morning Lir arose from the bank on which he lay, and addressed his children in the following words:-- In vain I stretch my aching limbs And close my weeping eyes, In vain my children's moonlight hymns For me alone arise. 'Tis morn again, on wave and strand, My children, we must part; A word that like a burning brand Falls on your father's heart. O had I seen this fatal hour, When Lir's malignant queen First sought his old paternal tower, This hour had never been! As thus between the shore and you The widening waters grow, So spreads my darkening spirits through The sense of cureless woe. Lir departed from the lake, and, still following the track of Aoife, came to the palace of the Ard-Righ, or Chief King, as Bogh Dearg was entitled. The monarch welcomed him, but complained of his not having brought his children as usual. "Alas, poor that I am!" said Lir, "it is not I who would keep my children from your sight, but Aoife yonder, once your darling, and the sister of their mother, who has had them transformed into four swans, and abandoned them on the Lake of the Speckled Oak. They have been seen in that place by a great multitude of our people, who have heard the story from themselves, for they retain their speech and reason as before."