Celtic Tales, Told to the Children

TO CHRISTOPHER
This little book was written after several variants of the Tales had been read:—‘Old Celtic Romances,’ by Dr. Joyce; ‘Reliquae Celticae,’ by Dr. Cameron; ‘The Pursuit after Diarmud O’Duibhne and Grainne the daughter of Cormac Mac Airt,’ by Standish Hayes O’Grady; ‘The Three Sorrows of Story-telling,’ by Dr. Douglas Hyde; ‘The Laughter of Peterkin,’ by Fiona Macleod, and other translations and retellings.
L.C.
One of my friends tells me that you, little reader, will not like these old, old tales; another says they are too sad for you, and yet another asks what the stories are meant to teach.
Now I, for my part, think you will like these Celtic Tales very much indeed. It is true they are sad, but you do not always want to be amused. And I have not told the stories for the sake of anything they may teach, but because of their sheer beauty, and I expect you to enjoy them as hundreds and hundreds of Irish and Scottish children have already enjoyed them—without knowing or wondering why.
LOUEY CHISHOLM.

In olden days, when many Kings reigned throughout the Green Island of Erin, none was greater than the great Concobar. So fair was his realm that poets sang its beauty, and such the wonder of his palace that the sweetest songs of Erin were of its loveliness.
In a castle of this fair realm dwelt Felim, a warrior and harper dear unto the King. And it was told him that Concobar with his chief lords would visit the castle.
Then Felim made a feast, and there was great rejoicing, and all men were glad.
But in the midst of the feast an old magician, who was of those that had come with the King, stood up before the great gathering. Long and white was the hair that fell upon his bent shoulders, black were the eyes that gazed into space from beneath his shaggy eyebrows.
‘Speak,’ said the King to the old man, ‘speak, and tell us that thou seest, for well we know thou piercest the veil that hideth from us the secrets of the morrow.’