Our bed now rock of dripping-caves
Our lullaby a thunderous roar of waves
Royal-couches once our sleepy heads did press
And every night the harpist’s art, caress.
…”Submit to the king, choose a wife from his fosterage and gain his friendship for ever.”
So went the message sent to Lir at Sidhe Finnaha.
Lir immediately set out with fifty chariots and reached Red-Lake by sunset.
The next day the three daughters of Aillil were brought and sat on the same couch as their king and queen.
“They are all three beautiful,” said Lir, “I choose the eldest and noblest.”
Eve and Lir were wedded that self same day.
Continue reading: Fate of the Lir-Brood II… | Stuart France