A year went by after this, and then Cormac longed for his wife and children again, nor could the bell-branch any longer bring him forgetfulness of them.  So one morning he took the branch and went out alone from Tara over the plain, taking the direction in which they had passed away a year agone; and ere long little wreathes of mist began to curl about his feet, and then to flit by him like long trailing robes, and he knew no more where he was.  After a time, however, he came out again into sunshine and clear sky, and found himself in a country of flowery meadows and of woods filled with singing-birds where he had never journeyed before.  He walked on, till at last he came to a great and stately mansion with a crowd of builders at work upon it, and they were roofing it with a thatch made of the wings of strange birds.  But when they had half covered the house, their supply of feathers ran short, and they rode off in haste to seek for more.  While they were gone, however, a wind arose and whirled away the feathers already laid on, so that the rafters were left bare as before.  And this happened again and again, as Cormac gazed on them for he knew not how long.  At last his patience left him and he said, “I see with that ye have been doing this since the beginning of the world, and that ye will still be doing it in the end thereof,” and with that he went on his way.

And many other strange things he saw, but of them we say nothing now, till he came to the gateway of a great and lofty Dun, where he entered in and asked hospitality.  Then there came to him a tall man clad in a cloak of blue that changed into silver or to purple as its folds waved in the light, and with him was a woman more beautiful than the daughters of men, even she of whom it was said her beauty was as that of a tear when it drops from the eyelid, so crystal-pure it was and bright.[32] They greeted Cormac courteously and begged him to stay with them for the night.

[32] See Miss Hull’s CUCHULAIN, THE HOUND OF ULSTER, p. 175.  The pair were Mananan, god of the sea, and Fand his wife, of whom a tale of great interest is told in the Cuchulain Cycle of legends.  The sea-cloak of Mananan is the subject of a magnificent piece of descriptive poetry in Ferguson’s CONGAL.

Cormac then entered a great hall with pillars of cedar and many-coloured silken hangings on the walls.  In the midst of it was a fire-place whereon the host threw a huge log, and shortly afterwards brought in a young pig which Cormac cut up to roast before the fire.  He first put one quarter of the pig to roast, and then his host said to him,

“Tell us a tale, stranger, and if it be a true one the quarter will be done as soon as the tale is told.”

“Do thou begin,” said Cormac, “and then thy wife, and after that my turn will come.”

“Good,” said the host.  “This is my tale.  I have seven of these swine, and with their flesh the whole world could be fed.  When one of them is killed and eaten, I need but put its bones into the pig-trough and on the morrow it is alive and well again.”  They looked at the fireplace, and behold, the first quarter of the pig was done and ready to be served.