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Updated: May 8, 2025
We call her Finola because she shelters the rest of us under her wings when the Moyle gets tempestuous. You remember the story? 'Of course I do, said Hyacinth, who had learnt the tale of Lir's daughter as other children do Jack the Giant-Killer. 'And who is Miss O'Dwyer? 'Oh, she writes verses. Surely you know them? Hyacinth shook his head. 'What a pity! We all admire them immensely.
Then again did they spread their wings and fly above the green grass on and on, until they reached the hills and trees that surrounded their old home. But, alas! only the ruins of Lir's dwelling were left. Around was a wilderness overgrown with rank grass, nettles, and weeds.
And Bodb Dearg used often to be going to Lir's house for the sake of those children; and he used to bring them to his own place for a good length of time, and then he would let them go back to their own place again.
O, yes, he must speak the grand old tongue. And his Dulcinea? James Stephens is doing some clever sketches. We are becoming important, it seems. Cordelia. Cordoglio. Lir's loneliest daughter. Nookshotten. Now your best French polish. Thank you very much, Mr Russell, Stephen said, rising. If you will be so kind as to give the letter to Mr Norman... O, yes.
For long years did Lir live in discontent, yielding obedience to none. But at length a great sorrow fell upon him, for his wife, who was dear unto him, died, and she had been ill but three days. Loudly did he lament her death, and heavy was his heart with sorrow. When tidings of Lir's grief reached Bove Derg, he was surrounded by his mightiest chiefs.
'Ah, happy is Lir's bright home today With mirth and music and poet's lay; But gloomy and cold his children's home, For ever tossed on the briny foam. Our wreath-ed feathers are thin and light When the wind blows keen through the wintry night; Yet oft we were robed, long, long ago, In purple mantles and robes of snow.
And the Men of Dea were at that time using the Feast of Age in every hill of the Sidhe in turn; and when they came to Lir's hill those four children were their joy and delight for the beauty of their appearance; and it is where they used to sleep, in beds in sight of their father Lir. And he used to rise up at the break of every morning, and to lie down among his children.
"The teaching of Manannan without deceit, the talk of Bodb Dearg on the pleasant ridge; the voice of Angus, his sweet kisses; it is by their side I used to be without grief." After that the riders went on to Lir's house, and they told the chief men of the Tuatha de Danaan all the birds had gone through, and the state they were in.
And Eve, the eldest of the fair maidens, was glad, and that day was she married to Lir, and after two weeks she left the palace by the Great Lake and drove with her husband to her new home. Happily dwelt Lir's household and merrily sped the months. Then were born unto Lir twin babes. The girl they called Finola, and her brother did they name Aed.
You may hear it, too, any fine soft day if you will sit there looking out on Fair Head and Rathlin Island, and read the old fairy tale. When you put down the book you will see Finola, Lir's lovely daughter, in any white-breasted bird; and while she covers her brothers with her wings, she will chant to you her old song in the Gaelic tongue. A name given by the Druids to St. Patrick.
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