Farewell to the sweet reed I tuned on the hill, My grief for the rough slopes of Sunnach so still, The wind in the fir tree and bleat of the ewe Are lost in the wild cry my heart makes for you.  The brown floors I danced on, the sheds where I lay, Are gone from my mind like a wing in the bay:  Dear lady, I’d herd the wild swans in the skies If they knew of lake water as blue as your eyes!

Well, it was not very long, as you can imagine, until the Keeper of the Key observed the shepherd boy loitering about the mansion.  When he heard him calling past the house to imaginary flocks a scowl came upon his face.  “Ah-ha!” he said, “another conspiracy!  Last time it was a hunchback tailor.  This time they come from the country.  They signal by the cries of shepherds.  Well, I shall do the driving for them!” There and then he had the shepherd boy apprehended, bound, and put in a cell.  In due course he was accused and sentenced, like the famous goldsmiths, to banishment from Eirinn.  When the daughter of the Keeper heard what had come to pass she was filled with grief.  She appeared before her father for the first time with tears in her eyes and woe in her face.  He was greatly moved, and seated the girl by his side.  She knelt by his knee and confessed to the whole affair with the shepherd boy.  The Keeper of the Key was a little relieved to learn that his suspicions of a fresh conspiracy were unfounded, but filled with indignation that such a person as a shepherd should not alone aspire to but win the heart of his daughter.  “What have we come to,” he said, “when a wild thing from the hills of Sunnach comes down and dares to lay his hand on the all but perfect water nymphs on the golden knob of my door!  Justice shall be done.  The order of banishment is set aside.  Let this wild hare of the hills, this mountain rover, be taken and seven times publicly dipped in the well.  I guarantee that will cool him!  He shall then have until break of day to clear out of my town.  Let him away back to the swine on the hills.”  The girl pleaded that the boy might be spared the frightful indignity of a public dipping in the well of the Seven Sisters, but her father was implacable.  “Have I not spoken?” he said sternly, and the damsel was led away by her governess in tears.

The people flocked to the well as they might to a Feis to see the dipping of the shepherd boy.  Cries of merriment arose among them when the boy, bound in strips of hide, was lowered by the servants of the Keeper of the Key into the mouth of the great well.  It was a cold, dark, creepy place down in the shaft of the well, the walls reeking, covered with slimy green lichen, the waters roaring.  The shepherd boy closed his eyes and gave himself up for lost.  But the Seven Sisters of the well kept moving down as fast as the servants told out the rope, until at last they could not lower him any farther.  The servants danced the rope up and down seven times, and the people screamed and clapped their hands, crying out, “All those who write love verses come to a bad end!” But the poet was never yet born who had not a friend greater than all his enemies.  At that moment the spirits of the Seven Sisters rose out of the water and spoke to the shepherd boy.