_Gaol nam fear-dìolain, mar shruth-lìonaidh na mara; Gaol nam fear-fuadain, mar ghaoith tuath 'thig o'n charraig; Gaol nam fear-posda, mar luing a' seòladh gu cala._ _Lawless love is as the wild tides of the sea; And the roamer's love cruel as the north wind blowing from barren rocks; But wedded love is like the ship coming safe home to haven._ I have found these two and many others of Barabal's sayings and rhymes, except those I have first given, in collections of proverbs and folklore, but do not remember having noted another, though doubtless "The Four Stars of Destiny (or Fate)" will be recalled by some. It ran somewhat as follows:-- _Reul Near_ (Star of the East), Give us kindly birth; _Reul Deas_ (Star of the South), Give us great love; _Reul Niar_ (Star of the West), Give us quiet age; _Reul Tuath_ (Star of the North), Give us Death. It was from her I first heard of the familiar legend of the waiting of Fionn and the Fèinn (popularly now Fingal and the Fingalians), "fo-gheasaibh," spellbound, till the day of their return to the living world. In effect the several legends are the same. That which Barabal told was as an isleswoman would more naturally tell it. A man so pure that he could give a woman love and yet let angels fan the flame in his heart, and so innocent that his thoughts were white as a child's thoughts, and so brave that none could withstand him, climbed once to the highest mountain in the Isles, where there is a great cave that no one has ever entered. A huge white hound slept at the entrance to the cave. He stepped over it, and it did not wake. He entered, and passed four tall demons, with bowed heads and folded arms, one with great wings of red, another with wings of white, another with wings of green, and another with wings of black. They did not uplift their dreadful eyes. Then he saw Fionn and the Fèinn sitting in a circle. Their long hair trailed on the ground; their eyebrows fell to their beards; their beards lay upon their feet, so that nothing of their bodies was seen but hands like scarped rocks that clasped gigantic swords. Behind them hung an elk-horn with a mouth of gold. He blew this horn, but nothing happened, except that the huge white hound came in, and went to the hollow place round which the Fèinn sat, and in silence ate greedily of treasures of precious stones. He blew the horn again, and Fionn and all the Fèinn opened their great, cold, grey, lifeless eyes, and stared upon him; and for him it was as though he stood at a grave and the dead man in the grave put up strong hands and held his feet, and as though his soul saw Fear.