One day, as they looked toward the Green Isle, they saw coming to the coast a troop of horsemen mounted on snow-white steeds, and their armour glittered in the sun.
A cry of great joy went up from the children of Lir, for they had seen no human form since they spread their wings above Lake Darvra, and flew to the stormy sea of Moyle.
'Speak,' said Finola to her brothers, 'speak, and say if these be not our own Dedannan folk.' And Aed and Fiacra and Conn strained their eyes, and Aed answered, 'It seemeth, dear sister, to me, that it is indeed our own people.'
As the horsemen drew nearer and saw the four swans, each man shouted in the Gaelic tongue, 'Behold the children of Lir!'
And when Finola and her brothers heard once more the sweet Gaelic speech, and saw the faces of their own people, their happiness was greater than can be told. For long they were silent, but at length Finola spake.
Of their life on the sea of Moyle she told, of the dreary rains and blustering winds, of the giant waves and the roaring thunder, of the black frost, and of their own poor battered and wounded bodies. Of their loneliness of soul, of that she could not speak. 'But tell us,' she went on, 'tell us of our father, Lir. Lives he still, and Bove Derg, and our dear Dedannan friends?'
Scarce could the Dedannans speak for the sorrow they had for Finola and her brothers, but they told how Lir and Bove Derg were alive and well, and were even now celebrating the Feast of Age at the house of Lir. 'But for their longing for you, your father and friends would be happy indeed.'
Glad then and of great comfort were the hearts of Finola and her brothers.
But they could not hear more, for they must hasten to fly from the pleasant shores of Erin to the sea-stream of Moyle, which was their doom.
And as they flew, Finola sang, and faint floated her voice over the kneeling host.
As the sad song grew fainter and more faint, the Dedannans wept aloud.
Then, as the snow-white birds faded from sight, the sorrowful company turned the heads of their white steeds from the shore, and rode southward to the home of Lir.
And when it was told there of the sufferings of Finola and her brothers, great was the sorrow of the Dedannans. Yet was Lir glad that his children were alive, and he thought of the day when the magic spell would be broken, and those so dear to him would be freed from their bitter woe.