Morning returned in joy. The mountains showed their gray heads, the blue face of ocean smiled. The white wave is seen tumbling 'round the distant rock, a mist rose slowly from the lake. It came, in the figure of an aged man, along the silent plain. Its large limbs did not move in steps, for a ghost supported it in mid air. It came towards Selma's hall and dissolved in a shower of blood.
Ahhh I love ancient Irish sagas!
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