Where roam you o'er the billow?
Hid by what rocks or secret caves,
That wont beneath my wings to slumber,
I fear the dead will leave their graves,
Ere time restore our number.
Tossed by the surge and sleety storm
At random o'er this briny water;
Woe, woe to all who share the form
Of Lir's unhappy daughter.
Fingula remained that night on the Rock of the Seals. At sunrise the next morning, looking out in every direction along the water, she saw Cornu coming towards[Pg 44] her with head drooping, and feathers drenched with spray, so cold and feeble that he could not answer her questions. Fingula received him lovingly under her wings, and said:—