Exit Toby.
In a quiet watered land, a land of roses,
Stands Saint Kieran's city fair;
And the warriors of Erin in their famous generations
Slumber there.
Many and many a son of Conn the Hundred Fighter
In the red earth lies at rest;
Many a blue eye of Clan Colman the turf covers,
Many a swan-white breast."
"Pretty," said Sark, with quite unexpected approval. "First line perfection. But, you will observe, the poet studiously refrains from affirming the final extinction of the family of the estimable Conn. 'Many and many a son,' he says, in the red earth lies at rest. One at least is left. They in their time had Conn the Hundred Fighter. We have Tim the Hundred-and-Fifty Fighter."