three strings were on that harp, one of silver, one of bronze, and one of iron, but in the music of those strings all the peace and joy and sorrow of the world seemed to lie. She played on the thin iron string, and tears came into the Fians' eyes; they felt that sorrow and pain and unnumbered shadows of woe pressed round them on every side, till at last Fionn cried: "Oh, Scathach, cease, or our hearts will break with grief."
She played then on the fine bronze wire, and in a moment the Fians were filled with joy. Beautiful shadowy forms danced round them and sang glad songs, the laughter of little children and grey old people echoed in their ears, and in all the world there was no grief or pain. Then, out of boundless joy, Fionn implored Scathach to stop, for he said such gladness mortals could not bear.
Now Scathach touched the silver wire, and a gentle melody floated over the moonlit hills and bogland. So soft, so gentle it was, that the Fians felt neither sorrow nor joy, only an infinite peace wrapped them round. Forms of the ancient gods appeared to them then:
