Ireland has always been a land of heroes, but, in far-off days, these were not real men of flesh and blood. They were giants of such mighty size that stories of their deeds must needs be greater than any stories of mere men. Even after countless ages, it is still related how they loved and hated, lived and fought. Traces of their presence can be found in all the regions where they dwelt, and in the wild Northcountry some have left us everlasting tokens lest we should perhaps hear and not believe.
There, where Ireland confronts Scotland, through the shadowy mists you can see the marvellous Causeway, built to allow a Scotch giant passage from one land to the other, and not many miles away lies beautiful Lough Neagh, made by Fionn MacCoul as he pursued an enemy in rage, and seized a portion of the earth to hurl after him, and let loose, where the earth had been, a flood of mighty waters, now formed into a lake. The stories of ancient Ireland are tragic in their theme. The best known of them all are the Three Sorrows—The Fate of the Children of Usnach, The Fate of the Children of Lir, and The Fate of the Children of Turenn.