There is a dissertation on this supposed miracle in moyle's Works, London, 1726.
As to the children of Lir, miserable was their abode and evil their plight on the Sea of moyle.
But ever as night fell it was their doom to return to the sea of moyle.
Fearful grew the four swans, for the time was not far off when they must wing their flight north to the wild sea of moyle.
We delayed too long, however, and the Sea of moyle looked as bleak and stormy as it did to the children of Lir.
Once more were ended three hundred years of doom, and glad were the four white swans to leave the cruel sea of moyle.
Sure, I won't have the moon or the stars or the waters of moyle to put things in their place.
I long for the shining eyes of friends and the fellowship of the Red Branch, and to see my own country by the sea of moyle.
Miserable was the abode and evil the plight of the children of Lir on the Sea of moyle.
They must roam for ages, driven on the sea of moyle, while we shall go hand in hand through the country of immortal youth.