In the Dún of Darkness
With soft wool we weave
Chains for the heroes.
Death and Despair
In the threads are woven.
Stronger than white bronze
Is the thread from the fleeces
Of the flocks of Darkness.
Fionn and Conan looked at each other. "It seems to me," said Fionn, "that this is a matter touching us. We will see who are the singers of that little song."
"It's a song that is not to my liking," said Conan, "and I think I will stop where I am."
"Never yet," Fionn said, "has any one of the Fianna lacked courage in any adventure, and surely it shall not be said that Conan mac Morna showed fear because of a song he heard sung!"
"By my spear, it shall not," Conan replied, and his face flushed redly. "Let us go now," and he walked onward.
As they rounded a huge ledge of rock they came in sight of the cave, and saw three maidens sitting at the entrance. Young and fair they seemed to be, but when Fionn looked
