a year, in the autumn days, a great gathering was made of the men of Ulster, and from all parts men and women would come to share in the sports and marketing, and to meet their friends, and make merry. The place was joyous and full of gaiety with musicians making music on harps and fiddles, and singers singing, and jugglers plying their feats, and horse-racing in open spaces. The warriors, too, were to be seen exhibiting their trophies of war, and telling tales of their combats and victories, and all were dressed in their best, and feasting and eating was to be found in every part of the assembly.

One day during an autumn feast, in the calm and quiet evening, Cuchulain and Emer his wife and a band of the brave men of Ulster who accompanied Cuchulain, and of the gently bred women who were Emer's companions, were amusing themselves strolling and sitting beside a lake, apart from the people who were making merry, when they saw coming from a distance a flock of white, very beautiful swans, which settled down upon the lake, and began to swim out two and two. "How I wish," Emer said, "that I could have two of those birds, one on each of my shoulders." "All of us are longing for those birds," cried her companions, and one woman said, "If only my husband were here"; and another woman said, "If only my husband were here, he would fetch me the birds."

And Emer looked at Cuchulain, and said, "I think if anyone should have the birds, it is I who ought to have them first."

But Cuchulain seemed to take no notice of what they were saying. And Emer was afraid to ask him, so she went to Laeg, his charioteer, and said, "Come thou and tell Cuchulain that the women are asking for the birds." So Laeg spoke to Cuchulain: "The women wish that you should go and hunt the swans for them to-day."

But Cuchulain looked angry. "Can the women of Ulster find no better occupation for me," he said, "than to set me catching birds for their amusement? Let them set their own husbands to this business, for it is not a fitting sport for me." "This is their fête-day," said the charioteer, "and they would like a gift from you."

"Bring me my chariot, then," Cuchulain said; "a fine heroic deed it is to be taking birds for women, and worthy of a champion's valour."

Angrily he went to the water's edge, and pursued the swans in his chariot, bringing down a number of them with his sword and with stones, so that they fell, flapping their wings against the water. And he picked them up, and threw them down before the women, and returned to Emer, but to her he gave not any birds at all.

"Are you angry?" he said to her. "Certainly I am not," said she; "you gave the birds to the women, and this was the same as though I myself had given them; right glad I am that you did this to please the women." Then Cuchulain's brow cleared, and he said, "Whenever birds come again on our plain, the two most beautiful of all I will bring down for you."

Hardly were the words out of his mouth, than slowly sailing out of the far distance and bearing down towards them, they saw two noble swans, larger and more splendid than any of those that had been on the lake before. The birds were chanting a gentle, mystic song, that soothed all who listened to it to sleep; and they were linked together with a golden chain. White and soft was their plumage, and they seemed to have human reason, for they moved together, with one mind, towards Cuchulain and his wife.

"There are your birds, O Emer," said Cuchulain, and he rose up to pursue them and fetch them down for her. But Emer was afraid. "Go not against those birds," she said, "you shall get birds for me another day; there is some magic power in those birds, and you may come to harm."

"I am not afraid of birds," Cuchulain said, and laughed; "place a stone in my sling, O Laeg."

So he took the sling and made a very careful aim, but for the first time in his life he missed his aim, and the stone when past the birds. "On my word," said Cuchulain, "this is a strange thing; from the day on which I first assumed arms till now, never have I missed a mark. Give me another stone."

Then he aimed again, more carefully than before, but again the stone went past them, and they sailed along unheeding. Then Cuchulain was angry, and he seized his spear, and flung it at the birds. And the aim was so good that it seemed as though the spear went through the swans, but for all that they flew away unhurt, save that the wing of one of them was broken. But when Cuchulain saw that the swans were taking flight, he flung off his mantle and ran after them, Laeg following hard behind. The swans flew slowly round the bend of the lake, and disappeared beneath the water; and when Cuchulain came after them round the point of land, he saw them no more, and though he gazed far out upon the water, and up to the passing clouds of heaven, he could not tell whither the birds were gone.

He looked about him, but he did not recognise the place in which he was, although he was on the Plain of Murthemne, in his own country.

"Where are the birds gone, and where are we, O Laeg?" said Cuchulain, for he was sore perplexed. And a strange weariness overtook him, and he leaned his back against a pillar stone that was hard by, and drowsiness fell upon him. But Laeg seemed to be asleep, for he gave no answer.