No high-born heroes
No hounds in chase
No shields arrayed
No silver soft goblets
No light cavalcades
No youthful assemblies
No beetle-browed maids
To brighten our desolate halls.
…When their three hundred years were ended the swans left the Sea of Moyle and flew westward until they reached Erris Domnan and the sea around the Isle of Glora.
Here they remained, suffering much from storm and cold.
One night a frost so hard came that the whole of the sea was frozen into a thick floor of ice and the snow was driven by a north-west wind.
It seemed to the three swan brothers then that they could bear their suffering no longer and they began to utterloud and pitiful complaints.
Unable to console them, Finnola herself lamented with her brothers but at the end of the cold snap the swans flew to a small lake where they alighted and there began to sing so sweetly that all the birds of the district gathered in flocks around them on the lake and on its shore.
The area became famous, now being known, as the Lake of Bird-Flocks.
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