We ride the steeds of the síd mounds, From the Otherworld. Though we were alive, now we are dead. Death is coming.
There was once a famous king over all of Ireland named Eochaid Feidleach. Once when he was crossing the assembly ground at Brí Léith, he saw a young woman standing at the edge of a well. Her hair was like burnished red gold and she wore a cloak of green silk embroidered with gold, with clasps of silver and gold above her breasts. Eochaid watched her as she loosened her hair to wash it. Her hands were long and white as snow, her teeth like pearls, her eyes like hyacinth, her lips as red as rowan berries, and her two thighs sleek and warm. She bore herself with the dignity of a queen, and indeed to Eochaid it seemed she was the loveliest woman in the world…
- From The Destruction of Dá Derga’s Hostel in Celtic Mythology: Tales of Gods, Goddesses, and Heroes.
Image credit: “Saint Bernard's well in 1800″ by Roger Griffith. Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.
