From Lady Wilde's Ancient Legends of Ireland. pp 42-45.

   That fairies, as we know, are greatly attracted by the beauty of mortal women, and Finvarra the king employs his numerous sprites to find out and carry off when possible the prettiest girls and brides in the country. These are spirited away by enchantment to his fairy palace at Knockma in Tuam, where they remain soothed to passive enjoyment, as in a sweet dream, by the soft low melody of the fairy music, which has the power to lull the hearer into a trance of ecstasy.
   There was once a great lord in that part of the country who had a beautiful wife called Ethna, the
loveliest bride in all the land. And her husband was so proud of her that day after day he had festivals
in her honour; and from morning till night his castle was filled with lords and ladies, and nothing but
music and dancing and feasting and hunting and pleasure was thought of.
   One evening while the feast was merriest, and Ethna floated through the dance in her robe of silver
gossamer clasped with jewels, more bright and beautiful than the stars in heaven, she suddenly let go
of the hand of her partner and sank to the floor in a faint.
   They carried her to her room, where she lay long quiet insensible; but towards the morning she woke
up and declared that she had passed the night in a beautiful palace, and was so happy that she longed
to sleep again and go there in her dreams. And they watched by her all day, but when the shades of
evening fell dark on the castle, low music was heard at her window, and Ethna again fell into a deep
trance from which nothing could rouse her.
   Then her old nurse was set to watch her; but the woman grew weary in the silence and fell asleep, and
never awoke till the sun had risen. And when she looked towards the bed, she saw to her horror that
the young bride had disappeared. The whole household was roused up at once, and search made
everywhere, but no trace of her could be found in all the castle, nor in the gardens, but to no
purpose--no one had seen her; no sign of her could be found, living or dead.
   Then the young lord mounted his swiftest steed and galloped right off to Knockma, to question
Finvarra, the fairy king, if he could give any tidings of the bride, or direct him where to search for her;
for he and Finvarra were friends, and many a good keg of Spanish wine had been left outside the
window of the castle at night for the fairies to carry off, by order of the young lord. But he little
dreamed now that Finvarra himself was the traitor; so he galloped on like mad till he reached
Knockma, the hill of the fairies.
   And as he stopped to rest his horse by the fairy rath, he heard voices in the air above him, and one
said--

"Right glad is Finvarra now, for he has the beautiful bride in his palace at last; and never more will she
see her husband's face."

"Yet," answered another, "if he dig down through the hill to the centre of the earth, he would find his
bride; but the work is hard and the way is difficult, and Finvarra has more power than any mortal
man."

"That is yet to be seen," exclaimed the young lord. "Neither fairy, nor devil, nor Finvarra himself shall
stand between me and my fair young wife;" and on the instant he sent word by his servants to gather
together all the workmen and labourers of the country round with their spades and pickaxes, to dig
through the hill till they came to the fairy palace.

   And the workmen came, a great crowd of them, and they dug through the hill all that day till a great
deep trench was made down to the very centre. Then at sunset they left off for the night; but next
morning when they assembled again to continue their work, behold, all the clay was put back again
into the trench, and the hill looked as if never a spade had touched it--for so Finvarra had ordered; and
he was powerful over earth and air and sea.
   But the young lord had a brave heart, and he made the men go on with the work; and the trench was
dug again, wide and deep into the centre of the hill. And this went on for three days, but always with
the same result, for the clay was put back again each night and the hill looked the same as before, and
they were no nearer to the fairy palace.
   Then the young lord was ready to die for rage and grief, but suddenly he heard a voice near him like a
whisper in the air, and the words it said were these--

"Sprinkle the earth you have dug up with salt, and your work will be safe."

   On this new life came into his heart, and he sent word through all the country to gather salt from the
people; and the clay was sprinkled with it that night, when the men had left off their work at the hill.
Next morning they all rose up early in great anxiety to see what had happened, and there to their great
joy was the trench all safe, just as they had left it, and all the earth round it was untouched.
Then the young lord knew he had power over Finvarra, and he bade the men work on with a good
heart, for they would soon reach the fairy palace now in the centre of the hill. So by the next day a
great glen was cut right through deep down to the middle of the earth, and they could hear the fairy
music if they put their ear close to the ground, and voices were heard round them in the air.

"See now," said one, "Finvarra is sad, for if one of those mortal men strike a blow on the fairy palace
with their spades, it will crumble to dust, and fade away like the mist."

"Then let Fivarra give up the bride," said another, "and we shall be safe."

On which the voice of Finvarra himself was heard, clear like the note of a silver bugle through the hill.

"Stop your work," he said. "Oh, men of earth, lay down your spades, and at sunset shall the bride be
given back to her husband. I, Finvarra, have spoken."

   Then the young lord bade them stop the work, and lay down their spades till the sun went down. And
at sunset he mounted his great chestnut steed and rode to the head of the glen, and watched and
waited; and just as the red light flushed all the sky, he saw his wife coming along the path in her robe
of silver gossamer, more beautiful than ever; and he sprang from the saddle and lifted her up before
him, and rode away like the storm wind back to the castle. And there they laid Ethna on her bed; but
she closed her eyes and spake no word. So day after day passed, and still she never spake or smiled,
but seemed like one in a trance.
   And great sorrow fell upon every one, for they feared she had eaten of the fairy food, and that the
enchantment would never be broken. So her husband was very miserable. But one evening as he was
riding home late, he heard voices in the air, and one of them said--

"It is now a year and a day since the young lord brought home his beautiful wife from Finvarra; but
what good is she to him? She is speechless and like one dead; for her spirit is with the fairies though
her form is there beside him."

Then another voice answered--

"And so she will remain unless the spell is broken. He must unloose the girdle from her waist that is
fastened with an enchanted pin, and burn the girdle with fire, and throw the ashes before the door, and
bury the enchanted pin in the earth; then will her spirit come back from Fairy-land, and she will once
more speak and have true life."

   Hearing this the young lord at once set spurs to his horse, and on reaching the castle hastened to the
room where Ethna lay on her couch silent and beautiful like a waxen figure. Then, being determined to
test the truth of the spirit voices, he untied the girdle, and after much difficulty extracted the enchanted
pin from the folds. But still Ethna spoke no word; then he took the girdle and burned it with fire, and
strewed the ashes before the door, and he buried the enchanted pin in a deep hole in the earth, under a
fairy thorn, that no hand might disturb the spot. After which he returned to his young wife, who smiled
as she looked at him, and held forth her hand. Great was his joy to see the soul coming back to the
beautiful form, and he raised her up and kissed her; and speech and memory came back to her at that
moment, and all her former life, just as if it had never been broken or interrupted; but the year that her
spirit had passed in Fairy-land seemed to her but as a dream of the night, from which she had just
awoke.
   After this Finvarra made no further efforts to carry her off; but the deep cut in the hill remains to this
day, and is called "The Fairy's Glen." So no one can doubt the truth of the story as here narrated.

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