As he said this he rushed toward the altar near which they stood, and
seized the two chains which coupled them together. No sooner had he done
so, than the swans lost their plumage, their beautiful feathers
disappeared, and the three sons of Lir appeared three withered old men,
with their bones seeming to project through their skin; while Fingula,
instead of the graceful swan that sung such enchanting strains, became
an old shrivelled hag, fleshless and bloodless. The King let fall the
chains, and returned home, while Macaomh Og uttered many lamentations
after the birds, and pronounced a malediction on Lairgnean. Fingula then
said:--
"Come hither, holy father, and give us baptism, for we are as much
concerned at parting with you as you in parting with us. You are to bury
us together in this manner. Place Cornu and Fiacra at my back, and
place Eugene before me"; and she again said, "Baptize us, holy father,
and make us happy."
After that they departed this life, and the children of Lir were buried
by Macaomh Og as Fingula had desired. He raised the earth in the form of
a tomb, and placed a stone over them, on which he carved their names in
the Ogham character, and wept bitterly above their grave. It is thought
that their souls went to heaven. For Lairgnean, who was the immediate
cause of their death, Macaomh Og predicted his fate in the following
lines:--
Ill shoot of Colman's royal line,
The malison of heaven is thine,
The grief which thou hast caused to mine,
Thine own cold heart shall feel,
Thou whose unholy zeal
Hath left me on this isle forlorn,
My cherished darlings' loss to mourn.
And she whose soul, in evil strong,
Hath prompted this unfeeling wrong,
To early dust consigned, shall long
Her fruitless rapine wail,
A shivering spectre pale!
The malison of heaven is thine,
Ill shoot of Colman's royal line!
Not long after, Lairgnean and his wife died a sudden death, according to
the prediction of Macaomh Og, which concludes the history of the Swans
of Lir.
[Illustration]
A NIGHT IN A WORKHOUSE.
BY JAMES GREENWOOD.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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