The Cloud-woman, Mor, was the daughter
Of Griann, the Sun,--well, and she
Made a marriage to equal that grandeur,
For her Goodman was Lir, the Sea.

The Cloud-woman Mor, she had seven
Strong sons, and the story-books say
Their inches grew in the night-time,
And grew over again in the day.

The Cloud-woman Mor,--as they grew in
Their bone, she grew in her pride,
Till her haughtiness turned away, men say,
Her goodman Lir from her side;

Then she lived in Mor's Home and she watched
With pride her sons and her crop,
Till one day the wish in her grew
To view from the mountain-top
All, all that she owned, so she
Traveled without any stop.

And what did she see? A thousand
Fields and her own fields small, small!
"What a fine and wide place is Eirinn," said she,
"I am Mor, but not great after all."

Then a herdsman came, and he told her
That her sons had stolen away:
They had left the calves in the hollow,
With the goose-flock they would not stay:

They had seen three ships on the sea
And nothing would do them but go:
Mor wept and wept when she heard it,
And her tears made runnels below.

Then her shining splendor departed:
She went, and she left no trace,
And the Cloud-woman, Mor, was never
Beheld again in that place.

The proud woman, Mor, who was daughter
Of Griann, the Sun, and who made
A marriage to equal that grandeur,
Passed away as a shade.