Receive, O royal sage, our last farewell, Thou of the potent spell! And thou, O Lir, deep skilled in mystic lore-- We meet--we meet no more! The sum complete of our appointed hours, We leave your happy bowers. Farewell, dear friends, till time itself is o'er We meet, we meet no more! Forever now to human converse lost, On Moyle's wild waters tost, Our doom till day, and night, and seasons fail, To weave a mournful tale. Three lingering ages on the northern main To waste in various pain. Three lingering ages in the stormy west To heave on ocean's breast. Sad is our doom, dear friends, on wintry seas Through many a year to freeze,-- Harsh brine and rocks, with horrid sea-weed brown For Lir's soft beds of down! No more the joy of Lir's paternal breast, Early we part unblest! A power unseen commands that we forsake Lone Dairvreac's peaceful lake. Rise from the wave, companions of my fear, Rise, brethren dear! Bright wave and pebbly beach and echoing dell, Farewell, a last farewell! And you, dear friends, who throng the leafy shore, We meet--we meet no more! Having ended those verses, the swans took wing and, arising lightly on the air, continued their flight until they reached the Sruih na Maoile, or the Sea of Moyle, as those waters were called which flowed between Ireland and Scotland. Their departure occasioned deep sorrow to all who witnessed it, and they had a law proclaimed throughout the kingdom, that any one, from the king to the peasant, who should kill a swan, let his power be as great as it might, should meet with certain death. In the mean time, the children of Lir found that they had made an unhappy change of place. When they saw the broad wild ocean around them, they grew cold and hungry, and began to fall into despair, thinking that all they ever suffered was nothing until they were sent to these seas. They remained on the waters until one night it began to freeze very hard. "My loving brothers," said Fingula, "we make very unwise provision against the coming night if we do not keep close together; and lest by any mischance we should lose sight of each other, let us appoint a place where we may meet again as soon as it may be in our power." "In that case, dear sister," said the three brothers, "let us meet at the Carrig na Roin (or the Rock of the Seals), for that is a place with which we are all acquainted."