andthe
noon
and
the
summer
,
but
still
alive
to
the
sting
of
the
wasp
,
to
the
fret
of
the
aphis
,
to
the
burn
of
the
drought
,
to
the
theft
of
the
parasite
.
She
only
dimly
understood
,
and
yet
she
was
smitten
with
awe
and
reverence
at
that
endless
grief
which
had
no
taint
of
cowardice
upon
it
,
but
was
pure
as
the
patriot’s
despair
,
impersonal
as
the
prophet’s
agony
.
For
the
first
time
,
the
intellect
in
her
consciously
awoke
.
For
the
first
time
she
heard
a
human
mind
find
voice
even
in
its
stupor
and
its
wretchedness
to
cry
aloud
,
in
reproach
to
its
unknown
Creator
:
“
I
am
yours
!
Shall
I
perish
with
the
body
?
Why
have
you
ever
bade
me
desire
the
light
and
seek
it
,
if
for
ever
you
must
thrust
me
into
the
darkness
of
negation
?
Shall
I
be
Nothing
?
—
like
the
muscle
that
rots
,
like
the
bones
that
crumble
,
like
the
flesh
that
turns
to
ashes
,
and
blows
in
a
film
on
the
winds
?
Shall
I
die
so
?
I
?
—
the
mind
of
a
man
,
the
breath
of
a
god
?
”
Time
went
by
;
the
chimes
from
the
cathedral
tolled
dully
through
the
darkness
,
over
the
expanse
of
the
flood
.
The
light
from
the
burning
wood
shone
redly
and
fitfully
.
The
sigh
and
moan
of
the
tossed
rushes
,
and
of
the
water
birds
,
awakened
and
afraid
,
came
from
the
outer
world
on
the
winds
that
blew
through
the
desolation
of
the
haunted
chamber
.
Grey
owls
flew
in
the
high
roof
,
taking
refuge
from
the
night
.
Rats
hurried
noiseless
and
eager
over
the
stones
of
the
floor
,
seeking
stray
grains
that
fell
through
the
rafters
from
the
granaries
above
.
She
noticed
none
of
these
things
;
she
never
looked
up
nor
around
:
all
she
heard
was
the
throb
of
the
delirious
words
on
the
silence
,
all
she
saw
was
the
human
face
in
the
clouded
light
through
the
smoke
from
the
flame
.
The
glow
of
the
fire
shone
on
the
bowed
head
of
Thanatos
,
the
laughing
eyes
of
Pan
,
Hermes’
fair
cold
derisive
face
,
and
the
majesty
of
the
Lykegênês
toiling
in
the
ropes
that
bound
him
to
the
mill‐stones
to
grind
bread
,
for
the
mortal
appetites
and
the
ineloquent
lips
of
men
.
But
at
the
gods
she
barely
looked
;
her
eyes
were
bent
upon
the
human
form
beside
her
.
She
crouched
beside
him
,
half
kneeling
and
half
sitting
:
her
clothes
were
drenched
,
the
fire
scorched
,
the
draughts
of
air
froze
,
her
;
she
had
neither
eaten
nor
drunk
since
the
noon
of
the
day
;
but
she
had
no
other
remembrance
than
of
this
life
which
had
the
beauty
of
the
sun‐king
and
the
misery
of
the
beggar
.
He
lay
long
,
restless
,
unconscious
,
muttering
strange
sad
words
,
at
times
of
sense
,
at
times
of
folly
,
but
always
,
whether
lucid
or
delirious
,
words
of
rebellion
against
his
fate
,
of
a
despairing
lament
for
the
soul
in
him
that
would
be
with
the
body
quenched
.
After
awhile
the
feverish
mutterings
of
his
voice
grew
lower
and
less
frequent
;
his
eyes
seemed
to
become
sensible
of
the
glare
of
the
fire
,
and
to
contract
and
close
in
a
more
conscious
pain
;
after
a
yet
longer
time
he
ceased
to
stir
so
restlessly
,
ceased
to
sigh
and
shudder
;
he
grew
quite
still
,
his
breath
came
tranquilly
,
his
head
fell
back
,
and
he
sank
to
a
deep
sleep
.
The
personal
fears
,
the
womanly
terrors
,
which
would
have
assailed
creatures
at
once
less
savage
and
less
innocent
never
moved
her
for
an
instant
.
That
there
was
any
strangeness
in
her
action
,
any
peril
in
this
solitude
,
she
never
dreamed
.
Her
heart
,
bold
with
the
blood
of
Taric
,
could
know
no
physical
fear
;
and
her
mind
at
once
ignorant
and
visionary
,
her
temper
at
once
fierce
and
unselfish
,
kept
from
her
all
thought
of
those
suspicions
,
which
would
fall
on
and
chastise
an
act
like
hers
;
suspicions
,
such
as
would
have
made
women
less
pure
and
less
dauntless
tremble
at
that
lonely
house
,
that
night
of
storm
,
that
unknown
fate
which
she
had
taken
into
her
own
hands
,
unwitting
and
unheeding
whether
good
or
evil
might
be
the
issue
thereof
.
To
her
he
was
beautiful
,
he
suffered
,
she
had
saved
him
from
death
,
and
he
was
hers
:
and
this
was
all
that
she
remembered
.
She
dealt
with
him
as
she
would
have
done
with
some
forest
beast
or
bird
that
she
should
have
found
frozen
in
the
woods
of
winter
.
His
head
had
fallen
on
her
,
and
she
crouched
unwearied
in
the
posture
that
gave
him
easiest
rest
.
With
a
touch
so
light
that
it
could
not
awaken
him
,
she
stroked
the
lustreless
gold
of
his
hair
,
and
from
time
to
time
felt
for
the
inaudible
beating
of
his
heart
.
Innumerable
dreams
,
shapeless
,
delicious
,
swept
through
her
brain
,
as
the
echoes
of
some
music
,
faint
yet
unutterably
sweet
,
that
half
arouses
and
half
soothes
some
sleeper
in
a
grey
drowsy
summer
dawn
.
For
the
first
time
since
the
melodies
of
Phratos
had
died
for
ever
from
off
her
ear
she
was
happy
.
She
did
not
ask
wherefore
,
—
neither
of
herself
nor
of
the
gods
did
she
question
whence
came
this
wonder‐flower
of
her
nameless
joy
.
She
only
sat
quiet
,
and
let
the
hours
drift
by
,
and
watched
this
stranger
as
he
slept
,
and
was
content
.
So
the
night
passed
.
Whilst
yet
it
seemed
night
still
,
the
silence
trembled
with
the
pipe
of
waking
birds
,
the
darkness
quivered
with
the
pale
first
rays
of
dawn
.
Over
the
flood
and
the
fields
the
first
light
broke
.
From
the
unseen
world
behind
the
mist
,
faint
bells
rang
in
the
coming
day
.
He
moved
in
his
sleep
,
and
his
eyes
unclosed
,
and
looked
at
her
face
as
it
hung
above
him
,
like
some
drooped
rose
heavy
with
the
too
great
sweetness
of
a
summer
shower
.
It
was
but
the
gaze
of
a
moment
,
and
his
lids
dropped
again
,
weighted
with
the
intense
weariness
of
a
slumber
that
held
all
his
senses
close
in
its
leaden
chains
.
But
the
glance
,
brief
though
it
was
,
had
been
conscious
;
—
under
it
a
sudden
flush
passed
over
her
,
as
the
life
stirs
in
the
young
woodlands
at
the
near
coming
of
the
spring
.
For
the
first
time
since
her
birth
she
became
wholly
human
.
A
sharp
terror
made
her
tremble
like
a
leaf
;
she
put
his
head
softly
from
her
on
the
ground
,
and
rose
,
quivering
,
to
her
feet
.
It
was
not
the
gods
whom
she
feared
,
it
was
herself
.
She
had
never
once
known
that
she
had
beauty
,
any
more
than
the
flower
knows
it
blowing
on
the
wind
.
She
had
passed
through
the
crowds
of
fair
and
market
,
not
knowing
why
the
youths
looked
after
her
with
cruel
eyes
all
aglow
.
She
had
walked
through
them
,
indifferent
and
unconscious
,
only
thinking
that
they
wanted
to
hunt
her
down
as
an
unclean
beast
,
and
dared
not
,
because
her
teeth
were
strong
.
She
had
taken
a
vague
pleasure
in
the
supple
grace
of
her
own
form
,
as
she
saw
it
mirrored
in
some
woodland
pool
where
she
had
bathed
amidst
the
water‐lilies
;
but
it
had
been
only
such
an
instinctive
and
unstudied
pleasure
as
the
swan
takes
in
seeing
her
silver
breast
shine
back
to
her
,
on
the
glassy
current
adown
which
she
sails
.
Now
,
—
as
she
rose
and
stood
,
as
the
dawn
broke
,
beside
him
,
on
the
hearth
,
and
heard
the
birds’
first
waking
notes
,
that
told
her
the
sun
was
even
then
touching
the
edge
of
the
veiled
world
to
light
,
a
hot
shame
smote
her
,
and
the
womanhood
in
her
woke
.
She
looked
down
on
herself
,
and
saw
that
her
soaked
skirts
were
knotted
above
her
knees
,
as
she
had
bound
them
when
she
had
leaped
from
the
boat’s
side
;
that
her
limbs
were
wet
and
glistening
with
river
water
,
and
the
moisture
from
the
grasses
,
and
the
sand
and
shingle
of
the
shore
;
and
that
the
linen
of
her
vest
,
threadbare
with
age
,
left
her
arms
bare
to
the
shoulders
,
and
showed
,
through
its
rents
,
the
gleam
of
her
warm
brown
skin
and
the
curves
of
her
shining
shoulders
.
A
sudden
horror
came
upon
her
,
lest
he
should
awake
again
and
see
her
as
she
was
;
—
wet
,
miserable
,
half‐clothed
,
wind‐tossed
like
the
rushes
,
outcast
and
ashamed
.
She
did
not
know
that
she
had
beauty
in
her
;
she
did
not
know
that
even
as
she
was
,
she
had
an
exquisite
grace
in
her
savage
loveliness
,
as
storm‐birds
have
in
theirs
against
the
thunder‐cloud
and
the
lightning
blaze
of
their
water‐world
in
tempest
.
She
felt
a
sudden
shrinking
from
all
chance
of
his
clearer
and
more
conscious
gaze
;
a
sudden
agony
of
shy
dread
,
and
longing
to
hide
herself
under
the
earth
,
or
take
refuge
in
the
depths
of
the
waters
,
rather
than
meet
the
eyes
to
which
she
had
given
back
the
light
of
life
cast
on
her
in
abhorrence
and
in
scorn
.
That
he
could
have
any
other
look
for
her
,
she
had
no
thought
.
She
had
been
an
outcast
amongst
an
alien
people
too
long
to
dream
that
any
human
love
or
gratitude
or
praise
could
ever
fall
on
her
.
She
had
been
too
long
cursed
by
every
tongue
,
to
dream
that
any
human
voice
could
ever
arise
in
honour
or
in
welcome
to
a
thing
so
despised
and
criminal
as
she
.
For
the
gift
which
she
had
given
this
man
too
would
only
live
to
curse
her
;
—
that
she
had
known
when
she
had
offered
it
.
She
drew
her
rude
garments
closer
,
and
stole
away
with
velvet
footfall
,
through
the
twilight
of
the
dawn
;
her
head
hung
down
,
and
her
face
was
flushed
as
with
some
great
guilt
.
With
the
rising
of
the
day
all
her
new
joy
was
dead
.
With
the
waking
of
the
world
,
all
her
dreams
shrank
back
into
secrecy
and
shame
.
The
mere
timid
song
of
the
linnet
in
the
leafless
bushes
seemed
sharp
on
her
ear
,
calling
on
her
to
rise
and
go
and
toil
with
the
beasts
of
the
share
and
the
shaft
,
as
the
creature
of
labour
,
of
exile
,
of
namelessness
,
and
of
despair
,
that
men
had
made
her
.
At
the
casement
,
she
turned
and
cast
one
lingering
glance
upon
him
where
he
slept
;
then
once
more
she
launched
herself
into
the
dusky
watery
mists
of
the
cold
dawn
.
She
had
made
no
more
sound
in
her
passing
than
a
bird
makes
in
its
flight
.
The
sleeper
never
stirred
,
but
dreamed
on
motionless
,
in
the
darkness
and
the
silence
,
and
the
drowsy
warmth
.
He
dreamed
indeed
,
of
a
woman’s
form
,
half‐bare
,
golden
of
hue
like
a
fruit
of
the
south
,
blue
veined
,
and
flushed
to
changing
rose
heats
,
like
an
opal’s
fire
;
with
limbs
strong
and
yet
slender
,
gleaming
wet
with
water
,
and
brown
arched
feet
shining
with
silvery
sands
;
with
mystical
eyes
,
black
as
night
and
amorous‐lidded
;
and
a
mouth
like
the
half‐closed
bud
of
a
flower
,
which
sighing
seemed
to
breathe
upon
him
the
fragrance
of
dim
cedar‐woods
shrouded
in
summer
rains
,
of
honey‐weighted
heather
blown
by
moorland
winds
,
of
almond
blossoms
shed
like
snow
against
a
purple
sea
;
of
all
things
air‐born
,
sun‐fed
,
fair
and
free
.
But
he
saw
these
only
as
in
a
dream
;
and
,
as
a
dream
,
when
he
awakened
they
had
passed
.
Though
still
dark
from
mists
and
heavy
clouds
,
the
dawn
grew
on
to
morning
as
she
went
noiselessly
away
over
the
grey
sands
,
the
wet
shore
paths
,
the
sighing
rushes
.
The
river‐meadows
were
all
flooded
,
and
on
the
opposite
banks
the
road
was
impassable
;
but
on
her
side
she
could
still
find
footing
,
for
the
ground
there
had
a
steeper
rise
,
and
the
swollen
tide
had
not
reached
in
any
public
roadway
too
high
for
her
to
wade
,
or
draw
herself
by
the
half‐merged
bushes
through
it
on
the
homeward
tracks
to
Yprès
.
The
low
sun
was
hidden
in
a
veil
of
water
.
The
old
convent‐bells
of
all
the
country‐side
rang
through
the
mists
.
The
day
was
very
young
as
yet
;
but
the
life
of
the
soil
and
the
stream
was
waking
as
the
birds
were
.
Boats
went
by
on
the
current
,
bearing
a
sad
freightage
of
sheep
drowned
in
the
night
,
and
ruined
peasants
,
whose
little
wealth
of
stack
and
henhouse
had
been
swept
down
by
the
unlooked‐for
tide
.
From
the
distant
banks
,
the
voices
of
women
came
muffled
through
the
fog
,
weeping
and
wailing
for
some
lost
lamb
,
choked
by
the
water
in
its
fold
,
or
some
pretty
breadth
of
garden
,
just
welcome
to
their
sight
with
snowdrops
and
with
violets
,
that
had
been
laid
desolate
and
washed
away
.
Through
the
clouds
of
vapour
that
curled
in
a
dense
opaque
smoke
from
the
wet
earth
,
there
loomed
the
dusky
shapes
of
oxen
;
their
belled
horns
sending
forth
a
pleasant
music
from
the
gloom
.
On
the
air
there
was
an
odour
from
soaked
grasses
and
upturned
sods
,
from
the
breath
of
the
herds
lowing
hock
deep
in
water
,
from
the
green
knots
of
broken
primrose
roots
sailing
by
on
the
brown
rough
river
.
A
dying
bush
of
grey
lavender
swept
by
on
the
stream
;
it
had
the
fresh
earth
of
its
lost
garden
home
still
about
it
;
and
in
its
stems
a
robin
had
built
her
little
nest
.
The
nest
streamed
in
tatters
and
ruin
on
the
wind
,
the
robin
flew
above
the
wreck
fluttering
and
uttering
shrill
notes
of
woe
.
Folle‐Farine
saw
nothing
.
She
held
on
her
way
blindly
,
mutely
,
mechanically
,
by
sheer
force
of
long
habit
.
Her
mind
was
in
a
trance
:
she
was
insensible
of
pain
or
cold
,
of
hunger
or
fever
,
of
time
or
place
.
Yet
she
went
straight
home
,
as
the
horse
being
blinded
will
do
,
to
the
place
where
its
patience
and
fealty
have
never
been
recompensed
with
any
other
thing
than
blows
.
As
she
had
groped
her
way
through
the
gloom
of
the
night
,
and
found
it
,
though
the
light
of
the
roadside
Christ
had
been
turned
from
her
,
so
in
the
same
blind
manner
she
had
groped
her
way
to
her
own
conceptions
of
honesty
and
duty
.
She
hated
the
bitter
and
cruel
old
man
,
with
a
slave’s
hatred
,
mute
and
enduring
,
that
nothing
could
have
changed
;
but
all
the
same
she
served
him
faithfully
.
She
was
an
untamed
animal
indeed
,
that
he
had
yoked
to
his
ploughshare
;
but
she
did
her
work
loyally
and
doggedly
;
and
whenever
she
had
shaken
her
neck
free
of
the
yoke
,
she
returned
and
thrust
her
head
through
it
again
,
whether
he
scourged
her
back
to
it
or
not
.
It
was
partially
from
the
force
of
habit
which
is
strong
upon
all
creatures
;
it
was
partially
from
a
vague
instinct
in
her
to
work
out
her
right
to
the
begrudged
shelter
which
she
received
,
and
not
to
be
beholden
for
it
for
one
single
hour
to
any
charity
.
The
mill
was
at
work
in
the
twilight
when
she
reached
it
.
Claudis
Flamma
screamed
at
her
from
the
open
door
of
the
loft
,
where
he
was
weighing
corn
for
the
grinding
.
“
You
have
been
away
all
night
long
!
”
She
was
silent
;
standing
below
in
the
wet
garden
.
He
cast
a
foul
word
at
her
,
new
upon
his
lips
.
She
was
silent
all
the
same
;
her
arms
crossed
on
her
breast
,
her
head
bent
.
“
Where
is
the
boat
?
—
that
is
worth
more
than
your
body
.
And
soul
you
have
none
.
”
She
raised
her
head
and
looked
upward
.
“
I
have
lost
the
boat
.
”
She
thought
that
,
very
likely
,
he
would
kill
her
for
it
.
Once
when
she
had
lost
an
osier
basket
,
not
a
hundredth
part
of
the
cost
of
this
vessel
,
he
had
beaten
her
till
every
bone
in
her
frame
had
seemed
broken
for
many
a
week
.
But
she
looked
up
quietly
,
standing
there
amongst
the
dripping
bushes
and
the
cheerless
grassy
ways
.
That
she
never
told
a
lie
,
he
above
in
the
loft
knew
by
long
proof
;
but
this
was
in
his
sight
only
a
piece
with
the
strength
born
in
her
from
the
devil
;
the
devil
had
in
all
ages
told
so
many
truths
to
the
confusion
of
the
saints
of
God
.
“
Drifted
where
?
”
“
I
do
not
know
—
on
the
face
of
the
flood
,
—
with
the
tide
.
”
“
You
had
left
it
loose
?
”
“
I
got
out
to
push
it
off
the
sand
.
It
had
grounded
.
I
forgot
it
.
It
went
adrift
.
”
“
What
foul
thing
were
you
at
meanwhile
?
”
She
was
silent
.
“
If
you
do
not
say
,
I
will
cut
your
heart
out
with
a
hundred
stripes
!
”
“
You
can
.
”
“
I
can
!
you
shall
know
truly
that
I
can
!
Go
,
get
the
boat
—
find
it
above
or
below
water
—
or
to
the
town
prison
you
go
as
a
thief
.
”
The
word
smote
her
with
a
sudden
pang
.
For
the
first
time
her
courage
failed
her
.
She
turned
and
went
in
silence
at
his
bidding
.
In
the
wet
daybreak
,
through
the
swollen
pools
and
the
soaked
thickets
,
she
searched
for
the
missing
vessel
;
knowing
well
that
it
would
be
scarcely
less
than
a
miracle
which
could
restore
it
to
her
;
and
that
the
god
upon
the
cross
worked
no
miracles
for
her
;
—
a
child
of
sin
.
For
several
hours
she
searched
;
hungry
,
drenched
,
ready
to
drop
with
exhaustion
,
as
she
was
used
to
see
the
overdriven
cattle
sink
upon
the
road
.
She
passed
many
peasants
;
women
on
their
mules
,
men
in
their
barges
,
children
searching
for
such
flotsam
and
jetsam
as
the
water
might
have
flung
upon
the
land
from
the
little
flooded
gardens
,
and
the
few
riverside
cabins
,
which
it
had
invaded
in
the
night
.
She
asked
tidings
of
the
boat
from
none
of
these
.
What
she
could
not
do
for
herself
,
it
never
occurred
to
her
that
others
could
do
for
her
.
It
was
an
ignorance
that
was
strength
.
At
length
,
to
her
amaze
,
she
found
it
;
saved
for
her
by
the
branches
of
a
young
tree
,
which
,
being
blown
down
,
had
fallen
into
the
stream
,
and
had
caught
the
boat
hard
and
fast
as
in
a
net
.
At
sore
peril
to
herself
she
dislodged
it
with
infinite
labour
from
the
entanglement
of
the
boughs
,
and
at
scarce
less
peril
,
rowed
on
her
homeward
way
upon
the
swollen
force
of
the
turbid
river
;
full
against
the
tide
which
again
was
flowing
inland
,
from
the
sea
that
beat
the
bar
,
away
to
the
northward
,
in
the
full
sunrise
.
It
was
far
on
in
the
forenoon
,
as
she
drew
near
the
orchards
of
Yprès
,
brown
in
their
leaflessness
,
and
with
grey
lichens
blowing
from
their
boughs
,
like
hoary
beards
of
trembling
paupers
shaking
in
the
icy
breaths
of
charity
.
She
saw
that
Claudis
Flamma
was
at
work
amidst
his
trees
,
pruning
and
delving
in
the
red
and
chilly
day
.
She
went
up
the
winding
stairs
,
planks
green
and
slippery
with
wet
river
reeds
,
which
led
straight
through
the
apple
orchards
to
the
mill
.
“
I
have
found
the
boat
,
”
she
said
,
standing
before
him
;
her
voice
was
faint
and
very
tired
,
her
whole
body
drooped
with
fatigue
,
her
head
for
once
was
bowed
.
He
turned
with
his
billhook
in
his
hands
.
There
was
a
leap
of
gladness
at
his
heart
;
the
miser’s
gladness
over
recovered
treasure
;
but
he
showed
such
welcome
neither
in
his
eye
nor
words
.
“
It
is
well
for
you
that
you
have
,
”
he
said
with
bitter
meaning
.
“
I
will
spare
you
half
the
stripes
:
—
strip
.
”
Without
a
word
of
remonstrance
,
standing
before
him
in
the
grey
shadow
of
the
lichens
,
and
the
red
mists
of
the
morning
,
she
pushed
the
rough
garments
from
her
breast
and
shoulders
,
and
vanquishing
her
weakness
,
drew
herself
erect
to
receive
the
familiar
chastisement
.
“
I
am
guilty
—
this
time
,
”
she
said
to
herself
as
the
lash
fell
:
—
she
was
thinking
of
her
theft
.
CHAPTER
IV
.
A
SCORE
of
years
before
,
in
a
valley
of
the
far
north
,
a
group
of
eager
and
silent
listeners
stood
gathered
about
one
man
,
who
spoke
aloud
with
fervent
and
rapturous
oratory
.
It
was
in
the
green
Norwegian
spring
,
when
the
silence
of
the
winter
world
had
given
way
to
a
million
sounds
of
waking
life
from
budding
leaves
and
nesting
birds
,
and
melting
torrents
and
warm
winds
,
fanning
the
tender
primrose
into
being
,
and
wooing
the
red
Alpine
rose
to
blossom
.
The
little
valley
was
peopled
by
a
hardy
race
of
herdsmen
and
of
fishers
;
men
who
kept
their
goat
flocks
on
the
steep
sides
of
the
mountains
,
or
went
down
to
the
deep
waters
in
search
of
a
scanty
subsistence
.
But
they
were
a
people
simple
,
noble
,
grave
,
even
in
a
manner
heroic
and
poetic
,
a
people
nurtured
on
the
old
grand
songs
of
a
mighty
past
,
and
holding
a
pure
faith
in
the
traditions
of
a
great
sea‐sovereignty
.
They
listened
,
breathless
,
to
the
man
who
addressed
them
,
raised
on
a
tribune
of
rough
rock
,
and
facing
the
ocean
,
where
it
stretched
at
the
northern
end
of
the
vale
;
a
man
peasant‐born
himself
,
but
gifted
with
a
native
eloquence
;
half‐poet
,
half‐preacher
;
fanatic
and
enthusiast
;
one
who
held
it
as
his
errand
to
go
to
and
fro
the
land
,
raising
his
voice
against
the
powers
of
the
world
,
and
of
wealth
,
and
who
spoke
against
these
with
a
fervour
and
force
which
,
to
the
unlearned
and
impressionable
multitudes
that
heard
him
,
seemed
the
voice
of
a
genius
heaven‐sent
.
When
a
boy
he
had
been
a
shepherd
,
and
dreaming
in
the
loneliness
of
the
mountains
,
and
by
the
side
of
the
deep
hill‐lakes
far
away
from
any
sound
or
steps
of
human
life
,
a
madness
,
innocent
,
and
in
its
way
beautiful
,
had
come
upon
him
.
He
believed
himself
born
to
carry
the
message
of
grace
to
the
nations
;
and
to
raise
up
his
voice
against
those
passions
whose
fury
had
never
assailed
him
,
and
against
those
riches
whose
sweetness
he
had
never
tasted
.
So
he
had
wandered
from
city
to
city
,
from
village
to
village
;
mocked
in
some
places
,
revered
in
others
;
protesting
always
against
the
dominion
of
wealth
,
and
speaking
with
a
strange
pathos
and
poetry
which
thrilled
the
hearts
of
his
listeners
,
and
had
in
it
,
at
times
,
almost
the
menace
and
the
mystery
of
a
prophet’s
upbraiding
.
He
lived
very
poorly
;
he
was
gentle
as
a
child
;
he
was
a
cripple
and
very
feeble
;
he
drank
at
the
wayside
rills
with
the
dogs
;
he
lay
down
on
the
open
fields
with
the
cattle
;
yet
he
had
a
power
in
him
that
had
its
sway
over
the
people
,
and
held
the
scoffers
and
the
jesters
quiet
under
the
spell
of
his
tender
and
flute‐like
voice
.
Raised
above
the
little
throng
upon
the
bare
red
rock
,
with
the
green
fiords
and
the
dim
pine‐woods
stretching
round
him
as
far
as
his
eye
could
reach
,
he
preached
,
now
to
the
groups
of
fishers
and
herdsmen
,
and
foresters
and
hunters
;
protesting
to
this
simple
people
against
the
force
of
wealth
,
and
the
lust
of
possession
,
as
though
he
preached
to
princes
and
to
conquerors
.
He
told
them
of
what
he
had
seen
in
the
great
cities
through
which
he
had
wandered
;
of
the
corruption
and
the
vileness
,
and
the
wantonness
;
of
the
greed
in
which
the
days
and
the
years
of
men’s
lives
were
spent
;
of
the
amassing
of
riches
for
which
alone
the
nations
cared
,
so
that
all
loveliness
,
all
simplicity
,
all
high
endeavour
,
all
innocent
pastime
,
were
abjured
and
derided
amongst
them
.
His
voice
was
sweet
and
full
as
the
swell
of
the
music
as
he
spoke
to
them
,
telling
them
one
of
the
many
fables
and
legends
,
of
which
he
had
gathered
a
full
harvest
,
in
the
may
lands
that
had
felt
his
footsteps
.
This
was
the
parable
he
set
before
them
that
day
,
whilst
the
rude
toilers
of
the
forests
and
the
ocean
stood
quiet
as
little
children
,
hearkening
with
upturned
faces
and
bated
breath
,
as
the
sun
went
down
behind
the
purple
pines
.
“
There
lived
once
in
the
east
,
a
great
king
;
he
dwelt
far
away
,
amongst
the
fragrant
fields
of
roses
,
and
in
the
light
of
suns
that
never
set
.
“
He
was
young
,
he
was
beloved
,
he
was
fair
of
face
and
form
;
and
the
people
as
they
hewed
stone
,
or
brought
water
,
said
amongst
themselves
,
‘Verily
,
this
man
is
as
a
god
;
he
goes
where
he
lists
,
and
he
lies
still
or
rises
up
as
he
pleases
;
and
all
fruits
of
all
lands
are
culled
for
him
;
and
his
nights
are
nights
of
gladness
,
and
his
days
,
when
they
dawn
,
are
all
his
to
sleep
through
or
spend
as
he
wills.’
But
the
people
were
wrong
.
For
this
king
was
weary
of
his
life
.
“
His
buckler
was
sown
with
gems
,
but
his
heart
beneath
it
was
sore
.
For
he
had
been
long
bitterly
harassed
by
foes
who
descended
on
him
as
wolves
from
the
hills
in
their
hunger
,
and
he
ha
been
long
plauged
with
heavy
wars
and
with
bad
rice
harvests
,
and
with
many
troubles
to
his
nation
that
kept
it
very
poor
,
and
forbade
him
to
finish
the
building
of
new
marble
palaces
,
and
the
making
of
fresh
gardens
of
delight
,
on
which
his
heart
was
set
.
So
he
,
being
weary
of
a
barren
land
and
of
an
empty
treasury
,
with
all
his
might
prayed
to
the
gods
that
all
he
touched
might
turn
to
gold
,
even
as
he
had
heard
had
happened
to
some
magician
long
before
in
other
ages
.
And
the
gods
gave
him
the
thing
he
craved
;
and
his
treasury
overflowed
.
No
king
had
ever
been
so
rich
,
as
this
king
now
became
in
the
short
space
of
a
single
summer‐day
.
“
But
it
was
bought
with
a
price
.
“
When
he
stretched
out
his
hand
to
gather
the
rose
that
blossomed
in
his
path
,
a
golden
flower
scentless
and
stiff
was
all
he
grasped
.
When
he
called
to
him
the
carrier‐dove
that
sped
with
a
scroll
of
love
words
across
the
mountains
,
the
bird
sank
on
his
breast
a
carven
piece
of
metal
.
When
he
was
athirst
and
shouted
to
his
cup
bearer
for
drink
,
the
red
wine
ran
a
stream
of
molten
gold
.
When
he
would
fain
have
eaten
,
the
pulse
and
pomegranate
grew
alike
to
gold
between
his
teeth
.
And
lo
!
at
eventide
,
when
he
sought
the
silent
chambers
of
his
harem
,
saying
,
‘here
at
least
shall
I
find
rest
,
’
and
bent
his
steps
to
the
couch
whereon
his
best
beloved
slave
was
sleeping
,
a
statue
of
gold
was
all
he
drew
into
his
eager
arms
,
and
cold
shut
lips
of
sculptured
gold
were
all
that
met
his
own
.
“
That
night
the
great
king
slew
himself
,
unable
any
more
to
bear
this
agony
;
since
all
around
him
was
desolation
,
even
though
all
around
him
was
wealth
.
“
Now
the
world
is
too
like
that
king
,
and
in
its
greed
of
gold
it
will
barter
its
life
away
.
“
Look
you
,
—
this
thing
is
certain
—
I
say
that
the
world
will
perish
,
even
as
that
king
perished
,
slain
as
he
was
slain
,
by
the
curse
of
its
own
fulfilled
desire
.
“
The
future
of
the
world
is
written
.
For
God
has
granted
their
prayer
to
men
.
He
has
made
them
rich
and
their
riches
shall
kill
them
.
“
When
all
green
places
have
been
destroyed
in
the
builder’s
lust
of
gain
:
—
when
all
the
lands
are
but
mountains
of
brick
,
and
piles
of
wood
and
iron
:
—
when
there
is
no
moisture
anywhere
;
and
no
rain
ever
falls
:
—
when
the
sky
is
a
vault
of
smoke
;
and
all
the
rivers
reek
with
poison
:
—
when
forest
and
stream
,
and
moor
and
meadow
,
and
all
the
old
green
wayside
beauty
are
things
vanished
and
forgotten
:
—
when
every
gentle
timid
thing
of
brake
and
bush
,
of
air
and
water
,
has
been
killed
,
because
it
robbed
them
of
a
berry
or
a
fruit
:
—
when
the
earth
is
one
vast
city
,
whose
young
children
behold
neither
the
green
of
the
field
nor
the
blue
of
the
sky
;
and
hear
no
song
but
the
hiss
of
the
stream
,
and
know
no
music
but
the
roar
of
the
furnace
:
—
when
the
old
sweet
silence
of
the
country‐side
,
and
the
old
sweet
sounds
of
waking
birds
,
and
the
old
sweet
fall
of
summer
showers
,
and
the
grace
of
a
hedge‐row
bough
,
and
the
glow
of
the
purple
heather
,
and
the
note
of
the
cuckoo
and
cushat
,
and
the
freedom
of
waste
and
of
woodland
,
are
all
things
dead
,
and
remembered
of
no
man
:
—
then
the
world
,
like
the
Eastern
king
,
will
perish
miserably
of
famine
and
of
drought
,
with
gold
in
its
stiffened
hands
,
and
gold
in
its
withered
lips
,
and
gold
everywhere
:
—
gold
that
the
people
can
neither
eat
nor
drink
,
gold
that
cares
nothing
for
them
,
but
mocks
them
horribly
:
—
gold
for
which
their
fathers
sold
peace
and
health
,
and
holiness
and
liberty
:
—
gold
that
is
one
vast
grave
.
”
His
voice
sank
,
and
the
silence
that
followed
was
only
filled
with
the
sound
of
the
winds
in
the
pine‐woods
,
and
the
sound
of
the
sea
on
the
shore
.
The
people
were
very
still
and
afraid
;
for
it
seemed
to
them
that
he
had
spoken
as
prophets
speak
,
and
that
his
words
were
words
of
truth
.
Suddenly
on
the
awe‐stricken
silence
an
answering
voice
rang
,
clear
,
scornful
,
bold
,
and
with
the
eager
and
fearless
defiance
of
youth
.
“
If
I
had
been
that
king
,
I
would
not
have
cared
for
woman
,
or
bird
,
or
rose
.
I
would
have
lived
long
enough
to
enrich
my
nation
,
and
mass
my
armies
,
and
die
a
conqueror
.
What
would
the
rest
have
mattered
?
You
are
mad
,
O
Preacher
!
to
rail
against
gold
.
You
flout
a
god
that
you
know
not
,
and
that
never
has
smiled
upon
you
.
”
The
speaker
stood
outside
the
crowd
with
a
dead
sea‐bird
in
his
hand
;
he
was
in
his
early
boyhood
,
he
had
long
locks
of
bright
hair
that
curled
loosely
on
his
shoulders
,
and
eyes
of
northern
blue
,
that
flashed
like
steel
in
their
scorn
.
The
people
,
indignant
and
terrified
at
the
cold
rough
words
which
blasphemed
their
prophet
,
turned
with
one
accord
to
draw
off
the
rash
doubter
from
that
sacred
audience
place
,
but
the
Preacher
stayed
their
hands
with
a
gesture
,
and
looked
sadly
at
the
boy
.
“
Is
it
thee
,
Arslàn
—
dost
thou
praise
gold
?
—
I
thought
thou
hadst
greater
gods
.
”
The
boy
hung
his
head
and
his
face
flushed
.
“
Gold
must
be
power
always
,
”
he
muttered
.
“
And
without
power
what
is
life
?
”
And
he
went
on
his
way
out
from
the
people
with
his
dead
bird
,
which
he
had
slain
with
a
stone
that
he
might
study
the
exquisite
mystery
of
its
silvery
hues
.
The
Preacher
followed
him
dreamily
with
his
glance
.
“
Yet
he
will
not
give
his
life
for
gold
,
”
he
murmured
.
“
For
there
is
that
in
him
greater
than
gold
,
which
will
not
let
him
sell
it
,
if
he
would
.
”
CHAPTER
V.
AND
the
words
of
the
Preacher
had
come
true
;
so
true
that
the
boy
Arslàn
,
grown
to
manhood
,
had
dreamed
of
fame
,
followed
the
genius
in
him
,
and
having
failed
to
force
the
world
to
show
faith
in
him
,
had
dropped
down
dying
on
a
cold
hearth
,
for
sheer
lack
of
bread
,
under
the
eyes
of
the
gods
.
It
had
long
been
day
when
he
awoke
.
The
wood
smouldered
,
still
warming
the
stone
chamber
.
The
owls
that
nested
in
the
ceiling
of
the
hall
were
beating
their
wings
impatiently
against
the
closed
casements
,
blind
with
the
light
and
unable
to
return
to
their
haunts
and
homes
.
The
food
and
the
wine
stood
beside
him
on
the
floor
;
the
fire
had
scared
the
rats
from
theft
.
He
raised
himself
slowly
,
and
by
sheer
instinct
ate
and
drank
with
the
avidity
of
long
fast
.
Then
he
stared
around
him
blankly
,
blinded
like
the
owls
.
It
seemed
to
him
that
he
had
been
dead
;
and
had
risen
from
the
grave
.
“
It
will
be
to
suffer
it
all
over
again
in
a
little
space
,
”
he
muttered
dully
.
His
first
sensation
was
disappointment
,
anger
,
weariness
.
He
did
not
reason
.
He
only
felt
.
His
mind
was
a
blank
.
Little
by
little
a
disjointed
remembrance
came
to
him
.
He
remembered
that
he
had
been
famished
in
the
coldness
of
the
night
,
had
endured
much
torment
of
the
body
,
had
fallen
headlong
and
lost
his
consciousness
.
This
was
all
he
could
recall
.
He
looked
stupidly
for
awhile
at
the
burning
logs
;
at
the
pile
of
brambles
;
at
the
flask
of
wine
,
and
the
simple
stores
of
food
.
He
looked
at
the
grey
closed
window
,
through
which
a
silvery
daylight
came
.
There
was
not
a
sound
in
the
house
;
there
was
only
the
cracking
of
the
wood
and
the
sharp
sealike
smell
of
the
smoking
pine
boughs
,
to
render
the
place
different
from
what
it
had
been
when
he
last
had
seen
it
.
He
could
recall
nothing
,
except
that
he
had
starved
for
many
days
;
had
suffered
,
and
must
have
slept
.
Suddenly
his
face
burned
with
a
flush
of
shame
.
As
sense
returned
to
him
,
he
knew
that
he
must
have
swooned
from
weakness
produced
by
cold
and
hunger
;
that
some
one
must
have
seen
and
succoured
his
necessity
;
and
that
the
food
which
he
had
half
unconsciously
devoured
must
have
been
the
food
of
alms
.
His
limbs
writhed
and
his
teeth
clenched
as
the
thought
stole
on
him
.
To
have
gone
through
all
the
aching
pangs
of
winter
in
silence
,
asking
aid
of
none
,
only
to
come
to
this
at
last
!
To
have
been
ready
to
die
in
all
the
vigour
of
virility
,
in
all
the
strength
of
genius
,
only
to
be
saved
by
charity
at
the
end
!
To
have
endured
,
mute
and
patient
,
the
travail
of
all
the
barren
years
,
only
at
their
close
to
be
called
back
to
life
by
aid
that
was
degradation
!
He
bit
his
lips
till
the
blood
started
,
as
he
thought
of
it
.
Some
eyes
must
have
looked
on
him
,
in
his
wretchedness
.
Some
face
must
have
bent
over
him
in
misery
.
Some
other
human
form
must
have
been
near
his
in
this
hour
of
his
feebleness
and
need
,
or
this
thing
could
never
have
been
.
He
would
have
died
alone
and
unremembered
of
man
,
like
a
snake
in
its
swamp
or
a
fox
in
its
earth
.
And
such
a
death
would
have
been
to
him
tenfold
preferable
to
a
life
restored
to
him
by
such
means
as
these
.
Death
before
accomplishments
is
a
failure
,
yet
withal
may
be
great
;
but
life
saved
by
alms
is
a
failure
,
and
a
failure
for
ever
inglorious
.
So
the
shame
of
this
ransom
for
death
far
outweighed
with
him
the
benefit
.
“
Why
could
they
not
let
me
be
?
”
he
cried
in
his
soul
against
those
unknown
lives
which
had
weighed
his
own
with
the
fetters
of
obligation
.
“
Rather
death
than
a
debt
!
I
was
content
to
die
;
the
bitterness
was
passed
.
I
should
have
known
no
more
.
Why
could
they
not
let
me
be
!
”
And
his
heart
was
hard
against
them
.
They
had
stolen
his
only
birthright
—
freedom
.
Had
he
craved
life
so
much
as
to
desire
to
live
by
shame
he
would
sooner
have
gone
out
into
the
dusky
night
and
have
snatched
food
enough
for
his
wants
from
some
rich
husbandman’s
granaries
,
or
have
stabbed
some
miser
at
prayers
,
for
a
bag
of
gold
:
—
rather
crime
than
the
debt
of
a
beggar
.
So
he
reasoned
;
stung
and
made
savage
by
the
scourge
of
enforced
humiliation
.
Hating
himself
because
,
in
obedience
to
mere
animal
craving
,
he
had
taken
and
eaten
,
not
asking
whether
what
he
took
was
his
own
.
He
had
closed
his
mouth
,
living
,
and
had
been
ready
to
die
mute
,
glad
only
that
none
had
pitied
him
;
his
heart
hardened
itself
utterly
against
this
unknown
hand
which
had
snatched
him
from
death’s
dreamless
ease
and
ungrudged
rest
,
to
awaken
him
to
a
humiliation
that
would
be
as
ashes
in
his
teeth
so
long
as
his
life
should
last
.
He
arose
slowly
,
and
staggered
to
the
casement
.
He
fancied
he
was
delirious
,
and
had
distempered
visions
of
the
food
so
long
desired
.
He
knew
that
he
had
been
starving
long
—
how
long
?
Long
enough
for
his
brain
to
be
weak
and
visited
with
phantoms
.
Instinctively
he
touched
the
long
round
rolls
of
bread
,
the
shape
of
the
wine
flask
,
the
wicker
of
the
basket
:
they
were
the
palpable
things
of
common
life
;
they
seemed
to
tell
him
that
he
had
not
dreamed
.
Then
it
was
charity
?
His
lips
moved
with
a
curse
.
That
was
his
only
thanksgiving
.
The
windows
were
unshuttered
;
through
them
he
looked
straight
out
upon
the
rising
day
—
a
day
rainless
and
pale
,
and
full
of
cool
softness
,
after
the
deluge
of
the
rains
.
The
faint
sunlight
of
a
spring
that
was
still
chilled
by
winter
was
shed
over
the
flooded
fields
and
swollen
streams
;
snow‐white
mists
floated
before
the
languid
passage
of
the
wind
;
and
the
moist
land
gave
back
,
as
in
a
mirror
,
the
leafless
trees
,
the
wooden
bridges
,
the
belfries
and
the
steeples
,
and
the
strange
sad
bleeding
Christs
.
On
all
sides
near
,
the
meadows
were
sheets
of
water
,
the
woods
seemed
to
drift
upon
a
lake
;
a
swan’s
nest
was
washed
past
on
broken
rushes
,
the
great
silvery
birds
beating
their
heavy
wings
upon
the
air
,
and
pursuing
their
ruined
home
with
cries
.
Beyond
,
everything
was
veiled
in
the
twilight
of
the
damp
grey
vapour
;
a
world
half
seen
,
half
shrouded
,
lovely
exceedingly
,
filled
with
all
divine
possibilities
and
all
hidden
powers
:
a
world
such
as
Youth
beholds
with
longing
eyes
in
its
visions
of
the
future
.
“
A
beautiful
world
!
”
he
said
to
himself
;
and
he
smiled
wearily
as
he
said
it
.
Beautiful
,
certainly
;
in
that
delicious
shadow
;
in
that
vague
light
:
in
that
cloud‐like
mist
,
wherein
the
earth
met
heaven
.
Beautiful
,
certainly
;
all
those
mystical
shapes
rising
from
the
sea
of
moisture
which
hid
the
earth
and
all
the
things
that
toiled
on
it
.
It
was
beautiful
,
this
calm
,
dim
,
morning
world
,
in
which
there
was
no
sound
except
the
distant
ringing
of
unseen
bells
;
this
veil
of
vapour
,
whence
sprang
these
fairy
and
fantastic
shapes
that
cleft
the
watery
air
;
the
land
to
the
sky
,
in
which
all
homely
things
took
grace
and
mystery
,
and
every
common
and
familiar
form
became
transfigured
.
It
was
beautiful
;
but
this
landscape
had
been
seen
too
long
and
closely
by
him
for
it
to
have
power
left
to
cheat
his
senses
.
Under
that
pure
and
mystical
veil
of
the
refracted
rain
things
vile
,
and
things
full
of
anguish
,
had
their
being
:
—
cattle
in
the
slaughter‐houses
;
the
drunkards
in
the
hovels
;
disease
and
debauch
and
famine
;
the
ditch
,
that
was
the
common
grave
of
all
the
poor
;
the
hospital
,
where
pincers
and
knives
tore
the
living
nerves
in
the
inquisition
of
science
;
the
fields
,
where
the
women
toiled
bent
,
cramped
,
and
hideous
;
the
dumb
driven
beasts
,
patient
and
tortured
,
for
ever
blameless
,
yet
for
ever
accursed
:
—
all
these
were
there
beneath
that
lovely
veil
,
through
which
there
came
so
dreamily
the
slender
shafts
of
spires
and
the
chimes
of
half
heard
bells
.
He
stood
and
watched
it
long
,
so
long
that
the
clouds
descended
and
the
vapours
shifted
away
,
and
the
pale
sun‐rays
shone
clearly
over
a
disenchanted
world
,
where
roof
joined
roof
and
casement
answered
casement
,
and
the
figures
on
the
crosses
became
but
rude
and
ill‐carved
daubs
;
and
the
cocks
crew
to
one
another
,
and
the
herdsmen
swore
at
their
flocks
,
and
the
oxen
flinched
at
the
goad
,
and
the
women
went
forth
to
their
field
work
;
and
all
the
charm
was
gone
.
Then
he
turned
away
.
The
cold
fresh
breath
of
the
morning
had
breathed
upon
him
,
and
driven
out
the
dull
,
delicious
fancies
that
had
possessed
his
brain
.
The
simple
truth
was
plain
before
him
:
that
he
had
been
seen
by
some
stranger
in
his
necessity
and
succoured
.
He
was
thankless
;
like
the
sick
,
to
whom
unwelcome
aid
denies
the
refuge
of
the
grave
,
calling
him
back
to
suffer
,
and
binding
on
his
shoulders
the
discarded
burden
of
life’s
infinite
weariness
and
woes
.
He
was
thankless
;
for
he
had
grown
tired
of
this
fruitless
labour
,
this
abortive
combat
;
he
had
grown
tired
of
seeking
credence
and
being
derided
for
his
pains
,
while
other
men
prostituted
their
powers
to
base
use
and
public
gain
,
receiving
as
their
wages
honour
and
applause
;
he
had
grown
tired
of
toiling
to
give
beauty
and
divinity
to
a
world
which
knew
them
not
when
it
beheld
them
.
He
had
grown
tired
,
though
he
was
yet
young
,
and
had
strength
,
and
had
passion
,
and
had
manhood
.
Tired
—
utterly
,
because
he
was
destitute
of
all
things
save
his
genius
,
and
in
that
none
were
found
to
believe
.
“
I
have
tried
all
things
,
and
there
is
nothing
of
any
worth
.
”
It
does
not
need
to
have
worn
the
imperial
purples
and
to
be
lying
dying
in
old
age
to
know
thus
much
in
all
truth
and
all
bitterness
.
“
Why
did
they
give
me
back
my
life
?
”
he
said
in
his
heart
,
as
he
turned
aside
from
the
risen
sun
.
He
had
striven
to
do
justly
with
this
strange
,
fleeting
,
unasked
gift
of
existence
,
which
comes
,
already
warped
,
into
our
hands
,
and
is
broken
by
death
ere
we
can
set
it
straight
.
He
had
not
spent
it
in
riot
or
madness
,
in
lewd
love
or
in
gambling
greed
;
he
had
been
governed
by
great
desires
,
though
these
had
been
fruitless
,
and
had
spent
his
strength
to
a
great
end
,
though
this
had
been
never
reached
.
As
he
turned
from
looking
out
upon
the
swollen
stream
that
rushed
beneath
his
windows
,
his
eyes
fell
upon
the
opposite
wall
,
where
the
white
shapes
of
his
cartoons
were
caught
by
the
awakening
sun
.
The
spider
had
drawn
his
dusty
trail
across
them
;
the
rat
had
squatted
at
their
feet
;
the
darkness
of
night
had
enshrouded
and
defaced
them
;
yet
with
the
morning
they
arose
,
stainless
,
noble
,
undefiled
.
Amongst
them
there
was
one
colossal
form
,
on
which
the
sun
poured
with
its
full
radiance
.
This
was
the
form
of
a
captive
grinding
at
a
mill‐stone
;
the
majestic
symmetrical
supple
form
of
a
man
who
was
also
a
god
.
In
his
naked
limbs
there
was
a
supreme
power
;
in
his
glance
there
was
a
divine
command
;
his
head
was
lifted
as
though
no
yoke
could
ever
lie
on
that
proud
neck
;
his
foot
seemed
to
spurn
the
earth
as
though
no
mortal
tie
had
ever
bound
him
to
the
sod
that
human
steps
bestrode
:
yet
at
the
corn‐mill
he
laboured
,
grinding
wheat
like
the
patient
blinded
oxen
that
toiled
beside
him
.
For
it
was
the
great
Apollo
in
Pheræ
.
The
hand
which
awoke
the
music
of
the
spheres
had
been
blood‐stained
with
murder
;
the
beauty
which
had
the
light
and
lustre
of
the
sun
had
been
darkened
with
passion
and
with
crime
;
the
will
which
no
other
on
earth
or
in
heaven
could
withstand
had
been
bent
under
the
chastisement
of
Zeus
.
He
whose
glance
had
made
the
black
and
barren
slopes
of
Delos
to
laugh
with
fruitfulness
and
gladness
,
—
he
whose
prophetic
sight
beheld
all
things
past
,
present
,
and
to
come
,
the
fate
of
all
unborn
races
,
the
doom
of
all
unspent
ages
,
—
he
,
the
Far‐Striking
King
,
laboured
here
beneath
the
curse
of
crime
,
greatest
of
all
the
gods
,
and
yet
a
slave
.
In
all
the
hills
and
vales
of
Greece
his
Io
pæan
sounded
still
.
Upon
his
holy
mountains
there
still
arose
the
smoke
of
fires
of
sacrifice
.
With
dance
and
song
the
Delian
maidens
still
hailed
the
divinity
of
Lêtô’s
son
.
The
wave
of
the
pure
Ionian
air
still
rang
for
ever
with
the
name
of
Delphinios
.
At
Pytho
and
at
Clarus
,
in
Lycia
and
in
Phokis
,
his
oracles
still
breathed
forth
upon
their
fiat
terror
or
hope
into
the
lives
of
men
;
and
still
in
all
the
virgin
forests
of
the
world
the
wild
beasts
honoured
him
wheresoever
they
wandered
,
and
the
lion
and
the
boar
came
at
his
bidding
from
the
deserts
to
bend
their
free
necks
and
their
wills
of
fire
meekly
to
bear
his
yoke
in
Thessaly
.
Yet
he
laboured
here
at
the
corn‐mill
of
Admetus
;
and
watching
him
at
his
bondage
there
stood
the
slender
,
slight
,
wing‐footed
Hermes
,
with
a
slow
,
mocking
smile
upon
his
knavish
lips
,
and
a
jeering
scorn
in
his
keen
eyes
,
even
as
though
he
cried
:
“
O
,
brother
,
who
would
be
greater
than
I
!
For
what
hast
thou
bartered
to
me
the
golden
rod
of
thy
wealth
and
thy
dominion
over
the
flocks
and
the
herds
?
For
seven
chords
strung
on
a
shell
—
for
a
melody
not
even
thine
own
!
For
a
lyre
outshone
by
my
syrinx
hast
thou
sold
all
thine
empire
to
me
.
Will
human
ears
give
heed
to
thy
song
now
thy
sceptre
has
passed
to
my
hands
?
Immortal
music
only
is
left
thee
,
and
the
vision
foreseeing
the
future
.
O
god
!
O
hero
!
O
fool
!
what
shall
these
profit
thee
now
?
”
Thus
to
the
artist
by
whom
they
had
been
begotten
the
dim
white
shapes
of
the
deities
spoke
.
Thus
he
saw
them
,
thus
he
heard
,
whilst
the
pale
and
watery
sunlight
lit
up
the
form
of
the
toiler
in
Pheræ
.
For
even
as
it
was
with
the
divinity
of
Delos
,
so
is
it
likewise
with
the
genius
of
a
man
,
which
,
being
born
of
a
god
,
yet
is
bound
as
a
slave
to
the
grindstone
.
Since
even
as
Hermes
mocked
the
Lord
of
the
Unerring
Bow
,
so
is
genius
mocked
of
the
world
,
when
it
has
bartered
the
herds
and
the
grain
,
and
the
rod
that
metes
wealth
,
for
the
seven
chords
that
no
ear
,
dully
mortal
,
can
hear
.
And
as
he
looked
upon
this
symbol
of
his
life
,
the
captivity
and
the
calamity
,
the
strength
and
the
slavery
of
his
existence
overcame
him
;
and
for
the
first
hour
since
he
had
been
born
of
a
woman
Arslàn
buried
his
face
in
his
hands
and
wept
.
He
could
bend
great
thoughts
to
take
the
shapes
that
he
chose
,
as
the
chained
god
in
Pheræ
bound
the
strong
kings
of
the
desert
and
the
forest
to
carry
his
yoke
;
yet
,
like
the
god
,
he
likewise
stood
fettered
to
the
mill
to
grind
for
bread
.
CHAPTER
VI
.
A
VALLEY
long
and
narrow
,
shut
out
from
the
rest
of
the
living
world
by
the
ramparts
of
stone
that
rose
on
either
side
to
touch
the
clouds
;
dense
forests
of
pines
,
purple
as
night
,
where
the
erl‐king
rode
and
the
bear‐king
reigned
;
at
one
end
mountains
,
mist
,
and
gloom
,
at
the
other
end
the
ocean
;
brief
days
with
the
sun
shed
on
a
world
of
snow
,
in
which
the
sounds
of
the
winds
and
the
moans
of
the
wolves
alone
were
heard
in
the
solitude
;
long
nights
of
marvelous
magnificence
with
the
stars
of
the
arctic
zone
glowing
with
an
unbearable
lustre
above
a
sea
of
phosphorescent
fire
;
those
were
Arslàn’s
earliest
memories
—
those
had
made
him
what
he
was
.
In
that
pine‐clothed
Norwegian
valley
,
opening
to
the
sea
,
there
were
a
few
homesteads
gathered
together
round
a
little
wooden
church
,
with
great
torrents
falling
above
them
,
and
a
profound
loneliness
around
;
severed
by
more
than
a
day’s
journey
from
any
other
of
the
habitations
of
men
.
There
a
simple
idyllic
life
rolled
slowly
on
through
the
late
and
lovely
spring
times
,
when
the
waters
loosened
and
the
seed
sprouted
,
and
the
white
blossoms
broke
above
the
black
ground
:
through
the
short
and
glorious
summers
,
when
the
children’s
eyes
saw
the
elves
kiss
the
roses
,
and
the
fairies
float
on
the
sunbeam
,
and
the
maidens
braided
their
fair
hair
with
blue
cornflowers
to
dance
on
the
eve
of
St.
John
:
through
the
long
and
silent
winters
,
when
an
almost
continual
night
brooded
over
all
things
,
and
the
thunder
of
the
ocean
alone
answered
the
war
of
the
wind‐torn
forests
,
and
the
blood‐red
blaze
of
the
northern
light
gleamed
over
a
white
still
mountain
world
,
and
within
doors
,
by
the
warm
wood
fire
,
the
youths
sang
Scandinavian
ballads
,
and
the
old
people
told
strange
Sagas
,
and
the
mothers
,
rocking
their
new‐born
sons
to
sleep
,
prayed
God
for
mercy
to
have
on
all
human
lives
drowning
at
sea
and
frozen
in
the
snow
.
In
this
Alpine
valley
,
hidden
amidst
stupendous
walls
of
stone
,
bottomless
precipices
,
and
summits
that
touched
the
clouds
,
there
was
a
cottage
even
smaller
and
humbler
than
most
,
and
closest
of
all
to
the
church
.
It
was
the
house
of
the
pastor
.
The
old
man
had
been
born
there
,
and
had
lived
there
all
the
years
of
his
life
save
a
few
that
he
had
passed
in
a
town
as
a
student
;
and
he
had
wedded
a
neighbour
who
,
like
himself
,
had
known
no
other
home
than
this
one
village
.
He
was
gentle
,
patient
,
simple
,
and
full
of
tenderness
;
he
worked
like
his
people
all
the
week
through
,
in
the
open
weather
,
amongst
his
fruit‐trees
,
his
little
breadth
of
pasturage
,
his
herb‐garden
,
and
his
few
sheep
.
On
the
seventh
day
he
preached
to
the
people
the
creed
that
he
himself
believed
in
with
all
the
fond
,
unquestioning
,
implicit
faith
of
the
young
children
who
lifted
to
him
their
round
wandering
eyes
.
He
was
good
;
he
was
old
:
in
his
simple
needs
and
his
undoubting
hopes
he
has
happy
;
all
the
living
things
of
his
little
world
loved
him
,
and
he
loved
them
.
And
fate
lit
on
him
to
torture
him
,
as
it
is
its
pleasure
to
torture
the
innocent
.
It
sent
him
a
daughter
who
was
fair
to
sight
,
and
had
a
voice
like
music
;
a
form
lithe
and
white
,
with
hair
of
gold
,
and
eyes
like
her
own
planets
.
She
had
never
seen
any
other
spot
save
her
own
valley
;
but
she
had
the
old
Berserker
blood
in
her
veins
,
and
she
was
restless
;
the
sea
tempted
her
with
an
intense
power
;
she
desired
passionately
,
without
knowing
what
she
desired
.
The
simple
pastoral
work
,
the
peaceful
household
labours
,
the
girls’
garland
of
alpine
flowers
,
the
youths’
singing
in
the
brief
rose
twilight
,
the
saga
told
the
thousandth
time
around
the
lamp
in
the
deep
mid‐winter
silence
;
these
things
would
not
suffice
for
her
.
The
old
Scandinavian
madness
was
her
veins
.
And
one
day
the
sea
tempted
her
too
utterly
;
beyond
her
strength
,
—
as
a
lover
,
after
a
thousand
entreaties
,
one
day
tempts
a
woman
,
and
one
day
finds
her
weak
.
The
sea
vanquished
her
,
and
she
went
—
whither
?
They
hardly
knew
:
to
these
old
people
the
world
that
lay
behind
their
mountain
fortress
was
a
blank
.
It
might
be
a
paradise
;
it
might
be
a
prison
.
They
could
not
tell
.
They
suffered
their
sorrow
meekly
;
they
never
cursed
her
;
they
did
not
even
curse
their
fate
because
they
had
given
life
to
a
woman
child
.
After
awhile
they
heard
of
her
.
She
wrote
them
tender
and
glowing
words
;
she
was
well
,
she
was
proud
,
she
was
glad
,
she
had
found
those
who
told
her
that
she
had
a
voice
which
was
as
a
gift
of
gold
,
and
that
she
might
sing
in
triumph
to
the
nations
.
Such
tidings
came
from
time
to
time
;
brief
welcome
words
,
first
teeming
with
hope
,
then
delirious
with
triumph
,
yet
ever
ending
with
a
short
sad
sigh
of
conscience
,
a
prayer
for
pardon
—
pardon
for
what
?
The
letters
never
said
:
perhaps
only
for
the
sin
of
desertion
.
The
slow
salt
tears
of
age
fell
on
these
glowing
pages
in
which
the
heart
of
a
young
,
vain‐glorious
,
tender
creature
stamped
itself
;
but
the
old
people
never
spoke
of
them
to
others
.
“
She
is
happy
,
it
does
not
matter
for
us
.
”
This
was
all
they
said
,
yet
this
gentle
patience
was
a
martyrdom
too
sharp
to
last
;
when
that
year
closed
the
mother
was
in
her
grave
,
and
the
old
man
left
alone
.
The
long
silent
winter
came
,
locking
the
valley
within
its
fortress
of
ice
,
severing
it
from
all
the
rest
of
the
breathing
human
world
;
and
the
letters
ceased
.
He
would
not
let
them
say
that
she
had
forgotten
;
he
chose
to
think
that
the
severance
was
due
to
the
wall
of
snow
which
was
built
up
between
them
rather
than
to
any
division
of
her
ingratitude
and
oblivion
.
The
sweet
sudden
Norwegian
spring
came
,
all
the
white
and
golden
flowers
breaking
up
from
the
hard
crust
of
the
soil
,
and
