“Oak that grows beneath the steep; Stately and majestic is its aspect! Shall I not speak it? That Lleu will come to my lap?” Then the eagle came down, and sat on Gwydion’s knee. Gwydion struck it with his magic wand, and it became Lleu again, wasted to skin and bone by the poison on the spear. Gwydion took him to Mâth to be healed, and left him there, while he went to Mur y Castell, where Blodeuwedd was. When she heard that he was coming, she fled. But Gwydion overtook her, and changed her into an owl, the bird that hates the day. A still older form of this probably extremely ancient myth of the sun-god—the savage and repulsive details of which speak of a hoary antiquity—makes the chase of Blodeuwedd by Gwydion to have taken place in the sky, the stars scattered over the Milky Way being the traces of it.[308] As for her accomplice, Lleu would accept no satisfaction short of Gronw’s submitting to stand exactly where Lleu had stood, to be shot at in his turn. To this he was obliged to agree; and Lleu killed him.[309] There are two other sons of Beli and Dôn of whom so little is recorded that it would hardly be worth while mentioning them, were it not for the wild poetry of the legend connected with them. The tale, put into writing at a time when all the gods were being transfigured into simple mortals, tells us that they were two kings of Britain, brothers. One starlight night they were walking together. “See,” said Nynniaw to Peibaw, “what a fine, wide-spreading field I have.” “Where is it?” asked Peibaw. “There,” replied Nynniaw; “the whole stretch of the sky, as far as the eye reaches.” “Look then,” returned Peibaw, “what a number of cattle I have grazing on your field.” “Where are they?” asked Nynniaw. “All the stars that you can see,” replied Peibaw, “every one of them of fiery-coloured gold, with the moon for a shepherd over them.” “They shall not feed on my field,” cried Nynniaw. “They shall,” exclaimed Peibaw. “They shall not,” cried Nynniaw, “They shall,” said Peibaw. “They shall not,” Nynniaw answered; and so they went on, from contradiction to quarrel, and from private quarrel to civil war, until the armies of both of them were destroyed, and the two authors of the evil were turned by God into oxen for their sins.[310] Last of the children of Dôn, we find a goddess called Penardun, of whom little is known except that she was married to the sea-god Llyr. This incident is curious, as forming a parallel to the Gaelic story which tells of intermarriage between the Tuatha Dé Danann and the Fomors.[311] Brigit, the Dagda’s daughter, was married to Bress, son of Elathan, while Cian, the son of Diancecht, wedded Ethniu, the daughter of Balor. So, in this kindred mythology, a slender tie of relationship binds the gods of the sky to the gods of the sea.