Therefore it was easy for Aeifa to mislead Bove Derg as to the reason why she had not brought the children of Lir with her. Nevertheless he doubted greatly that his foster-daughter deceived him, for he could not think that Lir his friend would so mistrust him as to refuse to let Fionula and her brothers accompany their stepmother.
So, secretly, he sent a swift messenger across the hills and straths to the dun of Lir.
Lir was at once wroth and filled with fear when he heard that Aeifa had reached the dun of Bove Derg without the children. Some treachery surely had been done, he cried.
Then, calling together a company, he set forth with all speed. Towards sundown, the cavalcade came upon the wide desolate shores of the great lake of Darvra.
“What is that sound?” cried Lir.
“It is the wind in the reeds, O Lir,” answered a spearman by his side.
“The wind in the reeds is a sweet sound to hear, Coran, but never have I heard any wind that could make so sweet a music.”
“It is the little gentle lapping of the wavelets by the west wind, O Lir.”
“It is no gentle lapping of the wavelets by the west wind, Coran, nor yet is it the wind in the reeds; but that is the voice of Fionula singing.”
And as the sound grew clearer, all heard it, and soon the words were audible: