house, and when all his people were with him they saw a woman with
strange clothing standing in the house. And she began to make a song
for Bran, and all the people were looking at her and listening to her,
and it is what she said: I bring a branch of the apple-tree from
Emhain, from the far island around which are the shining horses of
the Son of Lir. A delight of the eyes is the plain where the hosts
hold their games: curragh racing against chariot in the Silver-White
Plain to the south.

There are feet of white bronze under it, shining through life and time;
a comely level land through the length of the world's age, and many
blossoms falling on it.

There is an old tree there with blossoms, and birds calling from among
them; every colour is shining there. Delight is common, and music in
the Gentle Voiced Plain, in the Silver Cloud Plain to the south. There
is nothing hard or rough, but sweet music striking on the ear; keening
is not used, or treachery, in the tilled familiar land.

To be without grief, without sorrow, without death, without any
sickness, without weakness; that is the sign of Emhain; it is not a
common wonder that is.

There is nothing to liken its mists to, the sea washes the wave against
the land; brightness falls from its hair.

Golden chariots in the Plain of the Sea, rising up to the sun with
the tide; silver chariots and bronze chariots on the Plain of Sports.

It is a day of lasting weather, silver is dropping on the land; a pure