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Long ago, the people frm Iberia, the Milesians, ruled above the ground in Ireland, and the Tuatha de Danaan ruled the land below. In the hollowed out palaces beneath the hills, made from pearls and silver, time and space had no dominion, and the people were eternally young.
Bov Bearg, the Red Haired, ruled the land, and at that time Lir was a chieftain in the North. After some time, Lir's beloved wife died, so to console him in his grief Bov suggested that Lir take to wife one of his three foster daughters, Eve, Aoife and Alva. All three were of equal and unsurpassable beauty, and after much consideration, Lir chose Eve, since being the oldest, she must possess the greatest wisdom.
Within a year Eve bore Lir twin children. A year later Eve bore twins again, but died bringing them into the world. So through their childhood the children of Lir; Fionnula and Aedh, Fiachra and Conn walked through the world motherless and lonely.
Lir's grief at this second loss was boundless. He walked through the night wailing to the stars and gaunt trees and came near to death himself.
In due course Bov Dearg contacted Lir again, and suggested Aoife as a new wife for Lir - who better to look after the children of her foster sister? For a while Aoife cared for her sister's children, but then jealousy took hold of her and she felt herself to be less regarded than the children, even by her own foster father.
Telling the children she was taking them to Bov Dearg, she set off with them southwards, with only Fionnula suspecting anything amiss. After a short distance, she ordered a halt, and ordered her apalled servants to put the children to the sword. Thrice she demanded, and thrice they refused. Aoife fell silent then, and the journey continued.
When they reached the shores of Lough Derravagh, she again called a halt, and telling the children they must bathe, insited they must wade into the lake. Thereupon she called upon her sourcerers powers and the children were transformed, upon her command, into four white swans.
Tall-necked and white, graceful and serene the four children floated on the waters, beautiful in their sadness. Awful realisation of her deed struck Aoife, and her envy was gone.
Still, she could not reverse the spell, but told Fionnula that it would last for nine hundred years - three hundred on the waters of Lough Derravagh, three hundred years on the cruel sea of Moyle, and three hundred on the rocks and waters of Inish Gluaire. As some measure of recompense she gave a gift to the children, the gift of song.
So for three hundred years the swans stayed on the Lough, singing in tones of unearthly beauty. And from far and near the people of Ireland travelled to hear them, and have their hearts eased by the sound.
On the wild sea of Moyle times were not so easy. The storms raged and the waves pounded, and well wishers could only cry and wave from afar. Fionnula found safety on a ledge far above the waves, sheltering her brothers beneath the spread of her white wings.
Inish Gluaire was even more remote, and no word ever came from their people. At last the time was over, and led by Fionnula, they wheeled into the sky and headed back to Ireland. They landed in a clearing outside the hut of a saintly hermit, and the spell of Aoife was shattered. They changed shape back into human form, but alas, the spell had taken from them all beauty and timelessness, and four ancient and wizened people stood on the grass. Even as the saint blessed them they died, and now even today, when the singing of a swan is heard, the people of Ireland know that this is the last day of another of Lir's children.