No More Learning

I have, indeed, many such tales and verses well nigh by
rote, and so I know that I speak true! And why do you praise with rhyme
those demons, Finvaragh, Red Aodh, Cleena, Aoibhell and Donn? I, too,
am a man of great wit and learning, but I ever glorify our gracious
abbot, and Benignus our Patron, and the princes of the province.
My soul is decent and orderly, but yours is like the wind among the
salley gardens. I said what I could for you, being also a man of many
thoughts, but who could help such a one as you? '

'Friend,' answered the gleeman, 'my soul is indeed like the wind, and
it blows me to and fro, and up and down, and puts many things into my
mind and out of my mind, and therefore am I called the Swift, Wild
Horse. ' And he spoke no more that night, for his teeth were chattering
with the cold.

The abbot and the friars came to him in the morning, and bade him get
ready to be crucified, and led him out of the guest-house. And while he
still stood upon the step a flock of great grass-barnacles passed high
above him with clanking cries. He lifted his arms to them and said, 'O
great grass-barnacles, tarry a little, and mayhap my soul will travel
with you to the waste places of the shore and to the ungovernable sea! '
At the gate a crowd of beggars gathered about them, being come there
to beg from any traveller or pilgrim who might have spent the night in
the guest-house. The abbot and the friars led the gleeman to a place
in the woods at some distance, where many straight young trees were
growing, and they made him cut one down and fashion it to the right
length, while the beggars stood round them in a ring, talking and
gesticulating. The abbot then bade him cut off another and shorter
piece of wood, and nail it upon the first. So there was his cross for
him; and they put it upon his shoulder, for his crucifixion was to be
on the top of the hill where the others were. A half-mile on the way he
asked them to stop and see him juggle for them; for he knew, he said,
all the tricks of Aengus the Subtle-hearted. The old friars were for
pressing on, but the young friars would see him: so he did many wonders
for them, even to the drawing of live frogs out of his ears. But after
a while they turned on him, and said his tricks were dull and a shade
unholy, and set the cross on his shoulders again. Another half-mile
on the way, and he asked them to stop and hear him jest for them, for
he knew, he said, all the jests of Conan the Bald, upon whose back a
sheep's wool grew. And the young friars, when they had heard his merry
tales, again bade him take up his cross, for it ill became them to
listen to such follies. Another half-mile on the way, he asked them to
stop and hear him sing the story of White-breasted Deirdre, and how
she endured many sorrows, and how the sons of Usna died to serve her.
And the young friars were mad to hear him, but when he had ended they
grew angry, and beat him for waking forgotten longings in their hearts.
So they set the cross upon his back, and hurried him to the hill.

When he was come to the top, they took the cross from him, and began to
dig a hole to stand it in, while the beggars gathered round, and talked
among themselves. 'I ask a favour before I die,' says Cumhal.

'We will grant you no more delays,' says the abbot.

'I ask no more delays, for I have drawn the sword, and told the truth,
and lived my vision, and am content. '

'Would you, then, confess? '

'By sun and moon, not I; I ask but to be let eat the food I carry in my
wallet. I carry food in my wallet whenever I go upon a journey, but I
do not taste of it unless I am well-nigh starved. I have not eaten now
these two days. '

'You may eat, then,' says the abbot, and he turned to help the friars
dig the hole.

The gleeman took a loaf and some strips of cold fried bacon out of his
wallet and laid them upon the ground. 'I will give a tithe to the
poor,' says he, and he cut a tenth part from the loaf and the bacon.
'Who among you is the poorest? ' And thereupon was a great clamour, for
the beggars began the history of their sorrows and their poverty, and
their yellow faces swayed like Gara Lough when the floods have filled
it with water from the bogs.

He listened for a little, and, says he, 'I am myself the poorest,
for I have travelled the bare road, and by the edges of the sea; and
the tattered doublet of particoloured cloth upon my back and the
torn pointed shoes upon my feet have ever irked me, because of the
towered city full of noble raiment which was in my heart. And I have
been the more alone upon the roads and by the sea because I heard in
my heart the rustling of the rose-bordered dress of her who is more
subtle than Aengus, the Subtle-hearted, and more full of the beauty of
laughter than Conan the Bald, and more full of the wisdom of tears than
White-breasted Deirdre, and more lovely than a bursting dawn to them
that are lost in the darkness. Therefore, I award the tithe to myself;
but yet, because I am done with all things, I give it unto you. '

So he flung the bread and the strips of bacon among the beggars,
and they fought with many cries until the last scrap was eaten. But
meanwhile the friars nailed the gleeman to his cross, and set it
upright in the hole, and shovelled the earth in at the foot, and
trampled it level and hard. So then they went away, but the beggars
stared on, sitting round the cross. But when the sun was sinking, they
also got up to go, for the air was getting chilly. And as soon as they
had gone a little way, the wolves, who had been showing themselves on
the edge of a neighbouring coppice, came nearer, and the birds wheeled
closer and closer. 'Stay, outcasts, yet a little while,' the crucified
one called in a weak voice to the beggars, 'and keep the beasts and the
birds from me. ' But the beggars were angry because he had called them
outcasts, so they threw stones and mud at him, and went their way. Then
the wolves gathered at the foot of the cross, and the birds flew lower
and lower. And presently the birds lighted all at once upon his head
and arms and shoulders, and began to peck at him, and the wolves began
to eat his feet. 'Outcasts,' he moaned, 'have you also turned against
the outcast? '


OUT OF THE ROSE

ONE winter evening an old knight in rusted chain-armour rode slowly
along the woody southern slope of Ben Bulben, watching the sun go down
in crimson clouds over the sea. His horse was tired, as after a long
journey, and he had upon his helmet the crest of no neighbouring lord
or king, but a small rose made of rubies that glimmered every moment to
a deeper crimson. His white hair fell in thin curls upon his shoulders,
and its disorder added to the melancholy of his face, which was the
face of one of those who have come but seldom into the world, and
always for its trouble, the dreamers who must do what they dream, the
doers who must dream what they do.

After gazing a while towards the sun, he let the reins fall upon the
neck of his horse, and, stretching out both arms towards the west, he
said, 'O Divine Rose of Intellectual Flame, let the gates of thy peace
be opened to me at last! ' And suddenly a loud squealing began in the
woods some hundreds of yards further up the mountain side. He stopped
his horse to listen, and heard behind him a sound of feet and of
voices. 'They are beating them to make them go into the narrow path by
the gorge,' said someone, and in another moment a dozen peasants armed
with short spears had come up with the knight, and stood a little apart
from him, their blue caps in their hands.

'Where do you go with the spears? ' he asked; and one who seemed the
leader answered: 'A troop of wood-thieves came down from the hills a
while ago and carried off the pigs belonging to an old man who lives by
Glen Car Lough, and we turned out to go after them. Now that we know
they are four times more than we are, we follow to find the way they
have taken; and will presently tell our story to De Courcey, and if he
will not help us, to Fitzgerald; for De Courcey and Fitzgerald have
lately made a peace, and we do not know to whom we belong. '

'But by that time,' said the knight, 'the pigs will have been eaten. '

'A dozen men cannot do more, and it was not reasonable that the whole
valley should turn out and risk their lives for two, or for two dozen
pigs. '

'Can you tell me,' said the knight, 'if the old man to whom the pigs
belong is pious and true of heart? '

'He is as true as another and more pious than any, for he says a prayer
to a saint every morning before his breakfast. '

'Then it were well to fight in his cause,' said the knight, 'and if you
will fight against the wood-thieves I will take the main brunt of the
battle, and you know well that a man in armour is worth many like these
wood-thieves, clad in wool and leather. '

And the leader turned to his fellows and asked if they would take the
chance; but they seemed anxious to get back to their cabins.

'Are the wood-thieves treacherous and impious? '

'They are treacherous in all their dealings,' said a peasant, 'and no
man has known them to pray. '

'Then,' said the knight, 'I will give five crowns for the head of every
wood-thief killed by us in the fighting'; and he bid the leader show
the way, and they all went on together. After a time they came to where
a beaten track wound into the woods, and, taking this, they doubled
back upon their previous course, and began to ascend the wooded slope
of the mountains. In a little while the path grew very straight and
steep, and the knight was forced to dismount and leave his horse tied
to a tree-stem. They knew they were on the right track: for they could
see the marks of pointed shoes in the soft clay and mingled with them
the cloven footprints of the pigs. Presently the path became still
more abrupt, and they knew by the ending of the cloven footprints that
the thieves were carrying the pigs. Now and then a long mark in the
clay showed that a pig had slipped down, and been dragged along for a
little way. They had journeyed thus for about twenty minutes, when a
confused sound of voices told them that they were coming up with the
thieves. And then the voices ceased, and they understood that they had
been overheard in their turn. They pressed on rapidly and cautiously,
and in about five minutes one of them caught sight of a leather jerkin
half hidden by a hazel-bush. An arrow struck the knight's chain-armour,
but glanced off harmlessly, and then a flight of arrows swept by them
with the buzzing sound of great bees. They ran and climbed, and climbed
and ran towards the thieves, who were now all visible standing up
among the bushes with their still quivering bows in their hands: for
they had only their spears, and they must at once come hand to hand.
The knight was in the front, and smote down first one and then another
of the wood-thieves. The peasants shouted, and, pressing on, drove
the wood-thieves before them until they came out on the flat top of
the mountain, and there they saw the two pigs quietly grubbing in the
short grass, so they ran about them in a circle, and began to move back
again towards the narrow path: the old knight coming now the last of
all, and striking down thief after thief. The peasants had got no very
serious hurts among them, for he had drawn the brunt of the battle upon
himself, as could well be seen from the bloody rents in his armour; and
when they came to the entrance of the narrow path he bade them drive
the pigs down into the valley, while he stood there to guard the way
behind them. So in a moment he was alone, and, being weak with loss of
blood, might have been ended there and then by the wood-thieves he had
beaten off, had fear not made them begone out of sight in a great hurry.

An hour passed, and they did not return; and now the knight could stand
on guard no longer, but had to lie down upon the grass. A half-hour
more went by, and then a young lad, with what appeared to be a number
of cock's feathers stuck round his hat, came out of the path behind
him, and began to move about among the dead thieves, cutting their
heads off. Then he laid the heads in a heap before the knight, and
said: 'O great knight, I have been bid come and ask you for the crowns
you promised for the heads: five crowns a head. They bid me tell you
that they have prayed to God and His Mother to give you a long life,
but that they are poor peasants, and that they would have the money
before you die. They told me this over and over for fear I might forget
it, and promised to beat me if I did. '

The knight raised himself upon his elbow, and opening a bag that hung
to his belt, counted out the five crowns for each head. There were
thirty heads in all.

'O great knight,' said the lad, 'they have also bid me take all care of
you, and light a fire, and put this ointment upon your wounds. ' And he
gathered sticks and leaves together, and, flashing his flint and steel
under a mass of dry leaves, had made a very good blaze. Then, drawing
off the coat of mail, he began to anoint the wounds: but he did it
clumsily, like one who does by rote what he had been told. The knight
motioned him to stop, and said: 'You seem a good lad. '

'I would ask something of you for myself. '

'There are still a few crowns,' said the knight; 'shall I give them to
you? '

'O no,' said the lad. 'They would be no good to me. There is only one
thing that I care about doing, and I have no need of money to do it. I
go from village to village and from hill to hill, and whenever I come
across a good cock I steal him and take him into the woods, and I keep
him there under a basket, until I get another good cock, and then I set
them to fight. The people say I am an innocent, and do not do me any
harm, and never ask me to do any work but go a message now and then. It
is because I am an innocent that they send me to get the crowns: anyone
else would steal them; and they dare not come back themselves, for now
that you are not with them they are afraid of the wood-thieves. Did you
ever hear how, when the wood-thieves are christened, the wolves are
made their godfathers, and their right arms are not christened at all? '

'If you will not take these crowns, my good lad, I have nothing for
you, I fear, unless you would have that old coat of mail which I shall
soon need no more. '

'There was something I wanted: yes, I remember now,' said the lad. 'I
want you to tell me why you fought like the champions and giants in the
stories and for so little a thing. Are you indeed a man like us? Are
you not rather an old wizard who lives among these hills, and will not
a wind arise presently and crumble you into dust? '

'I will tell you of myself,' replied the knight, 'for now that I am
the last of the fellowship, I may tell all and witness for God. Look
at the Rose of Rubies on my helmet, and see the symbol of my life and
of my hope. ' And then he told the lad this story, but with always
more frequent pauses; and, while he told it, the Rose shone a deep
blood-colour in the firelight, and the lad stuck the cock's feathers in
the earth in front of him, and moved them about as though he made them
actors in the play.

'I live in a land far from this, and was one of the Knights of Saint
John,' said the old man; 'but I was one of those in the Order who
always longed for more arduous labours in the service of the Most High.
At last there came to us a knight of Palestine, to whom the truth of
truths had been revealed by God Himself. He had seen a great Rose of
Fire, and a Voice out of the Rose had told him how men would turn from
the light of their own hearts, and bow down before outer order and
outer fixity, and that then the light would cease, and none escape the
curse except the foolish good man who could not, and the passionate
wicked man who would not, think. Already, the Voice told him, the
wayward light of the heart was shining out upon the world to keep it
alive, with a less clear lustre, and that, as it paled, a strange
infection was touching the stars and the hills and the grass and the
trees with corruption, and that none of those who had seen clearly
the truth and the ancient way could enter into the Kingdom of God,
which is in the Heart of the Rose, if they stayed on willingly in the
corrupted world; and so they must prove their anger against the Powers
of Corruption by dying in the service of the Rose of God. While the
knight of Palestine was telling us these things we seemed to see in a
vision a crimson Rose spreading itself about him, so that he seemed to
speak out of its heart, and the air was filled with fragrance. By this
we knew that it was the very Voice of God which spoke to us by the
knight, and we gathered about him and bade him direct us in all things,
and teach us how to obey the Voice. So he bound us with an oath, and
gave us signs and words whereby we might know each other even after
many years, and he appointed places of meeting, and he sent us out in
troops into the world to seek good causes, and die in doing battle for
them. At first we thought to die more readily by fasting to death in
honour of some saint; but this he told us was evil, for we did it for
the sake of death, and thus took out of the hands of God the choice
of the time and manner of our death, and by so doing made His power
the less. We must choose our service for its excellence, and for this
alone, and leave it to God to reward us at His own time and in His own
manner. And after this he compelled us to eat always two at a table to
watch each other lest we fasted unduly, for some among us said that
if one fasted for a love of the holiness of saints and then died, the
death would be acceptable. And the years passed, and one by one my
fellows died in the Holy Land, or in warring upon the evil princes of
the earth, or in clearing the roads of robbers; and among them died the
knight of Palestine, and at last I was alone. I fought in every cause
where the few contended against the many, and my hair grew white, and a
terrible fear lest I had fallen under the displeasure of God came upon
me. But, hearing at last how this western isle was fuller of wars and
rapine than any other land, I came hither, and I have found the thing I
sought, and, behold! I am filled with a great joy. '

Thereat he began to sing in Latin, and, while he sang, his voice grew
fainter and fainter. Then his eyes closed, and his lips fell apart, and
the lad knew he was dead. 'He has told me a good tale,' he said, 'for
there was fighting in it, but I did not understand much of it, and it
is hard to remember so long a story. '

And, taking the knight's sword, he began to dig a grave in the soft
clay. He dug hard, and a faint light of dawn had touched his hair and
he had almost done his work when a cock crowed in the valley below.
'Ah,' he said, 'I must have that bird'; and he ran down the narrow path
to the valley.


THE WISDOM OF THE KING

THE High-Queen of the Island of Woods had died in childbirth, and her
child was put to nurse with a woman who lived in a hut of mud and
wicker, within the border of the wood. One night the woman sat rocking
the cradle, and pondering over the beauty of the child, and praying
that the gods might grant him wisdom equal to his beauty. There came
a knock at the door, and she got up, not a little wondering, for the
nearest neighbours were in the dun of the High-King a mile away; and
the night was now late. 'Who is knocking? ' she cried, and a thin voice
answered, 'Open! for I am a crone of the grey hawk, and I come from the
darkness of the great wood. ' In terror she drew back the bolt, and a
grey-clad woman, of a great age, and of a height more than human, came
in and stood by the head of the cradle. The nurse shrank back against
the wall, unable to take her eyes from the woman, for she saw by the
gleaming of the firelight that the feathers of the grey hawk were upon
her head instead of hair. But the child slept, and the fire danced, for
the one was too ignorant and the other too full of gaiety to know what
a dreadful being stood there. 'Open! ' cried another voice, 'for I am a
crone of the grey hawk, and I watch over his nest in the darkness of
the great wood. ' The nurse opened the door again, though her fingers
could scarce hold the bolts for trembling, and another grey woman, not
less old than the other, and with like feathers instead of hair, came
in and stood by the first. In a little, came a third grey woman, and
after her a fourth, and then another and another and another, until
the hut was full of their immense bodies. They stood a long time in
perfect silence and stillness, for they were of those whom the dropping
of the sand has never troubled, but at last one muttered in a low thin
voice: 'Sisters, I knew him far away by the redness of his heart under
his silver skin'; and then another spoke: 'Sisters, I knew him because
his heart fluttered like a bird under a net of silver cords'; and then
another took up the word: 'Sisters, I knew him because his heart sang
like a bird that is happy in a silver cage. ' And after that they sang
together, those who were nearest rocking the cradle with long wrinkled
fingers; and their voices were now tender and caressing, now like the
wind blowing in the great wood, and this was their song:

Out of sight is out of mind:
Long have man and woman-kind,
Heavy of will and light of mood,
Taken away our wheaten food,
Taken away our Altar stone;
Hail and rain and thunder alone,
And red hearts we turn to grey,
Are true till Time gutter away.

When the song had died out, the crone who had first spoken, said: 'We
have nothing more to do but to mix a drop of our blood into his blood. '
And she scratched her arm with the sharp point of a spindle, which
she had made the nurse bring to her, and let a drop of blood, grey as
the mist, fall upon the lips of the child; and passed out into the
darkness. Then the others passed out in silence one by one; and all the
while the child had not opened his pink eyelids or the fire ceased to
dance, for the one was too ignorant and the other too full of gaiety to
know what great beings had bent over the cradle.

When the crones were gone, the nurse came to her courage again, and
hurried to the dun of the High-King, and cried out in the midst of the
assembly hall that the Sidhe, whether for good or evil she knew not,
had bent over the child that night; and the king and his poets and men
of law, and his huntsmen, and his cooks, and his chief warriors went
with her to the hut and gathered about the cradle, and were as noisy as
magpies, and the child sat up and looked at them.

Two years passed over, and the king died fighting against the Fer Bolg;
and the poets and the men of law ruled in the name of the child, but
looked to see him become the master himself before long, for no one
had seen so wise a child, and tales of his endless questions about
the household of the gods and the making of the world went hither and
thither among the wicker houses of the poor. Everything had been well
but for a miracle that began to trouble all men; and all women, who,
indeed, talked of it without ceasing. The feathers of the grey hawk
had begun to grow in the child's hair, and though his nurse cut them
continually, in but a little while they would be more numerous than
ever. This had not been a matter of great moment, for miracles were a
little thing in those days, but for an ancient law of Eri that none
who had any blemish of body could sit upon the throne; and as a grey
hawk was a wild thing of the air which had never sat at the board, or
listened to the songs of the poets in the light of the fire, it was not
possible to think of one in whose hair its feathers grew as other than
marred and blasted; nor could the people separate from their admiration
of the wisdom that grew in him a horror as at one of unhuman blood. Yet
all were resolved that he should reign, for they had suffered much from
foolish kings and their own disorders, and moreover they desired to
watch out the spectacle of his days; and no one had any other fear but
that his great wisdom might bid him obey the law, and call some other,
who had but a common mind, to reign in his stead.

When the child was seven years old the poets and the men of law were
called together by the chief poet, and all these matters weighed and
considered. The child had already seen that those about him had hair
only, and, though they had told him that they too had had feathers
but had lost them because of a sin committed by their forefathers,
they knew that he would learn the truth when he began to wander into
the country round about. After much consideration they decreed a new
law commanding every one upon pain of death to mingle artificially
the feathers of the grey hawk into his hair; and they sent men with
nets and slings and bows into the countries round about to gather a
sufficiency of feathers. They decreed also that any who told the truth
to the child should be flung from a cliff into the sea.

The years passed, and the child grew from childhood into boyhood and
from boyhood into manhood, and from being curious about all things
he became busy with strange and subtle thoughts which came to him in
dreams, and with distinctions between things long held the same and
with the resemblance of things long held different. Multitudes came
from other lands to see him and to ask his counsel, but there were
guards set at the frontiers, who compelled all that came to wear the
feathers of the grey hawk in their hair. While they listened to him
his words seemed to make all darkness light and filled their hearts
like music; but, alas, when they returned to their own lands his words
seemed far off, and what they could remember too strange and subtle
to help them to live out their hasty days. A number indeed did live
differently afterwards, but their new life was less excellent than the
old: some among them had long served a good cause, but when they heard
him praise it and their labour, they returned to their own lands to
find what they had loved less lovable and their arm lighter in the
battle, for he had taught them how little a hair divides the false and
true; others, again, who had served no cause, but wrought in peace the
welfare of their own households, when he had expounded the meaning of
their purpose, found their bones softer and their will less ready for
toil, for he had shown them greater purposes; and numbers of the young,
when they had heard him upon all these things, remembered certain words
that became like a fire in their hearts, and made all kindly joys and
traffic between man and man as nothing, and went different ways, but
all into vague regret.

When any asked him concerning the common things of life; disputes about
the mear of a territory, or about the straying of cattle, or about the
penalty of blood; he would turn to those nearest him for advice; but
this was held to be from courtesy, for none knew that these matters
were hidden from him by thoughts and dreams that filled his mind like
the marching and counter-marching of armies. Far less could any know
that his heart wandered lost amid throngs of overcoming thoughts and
dreams, shuddering at its own consuming solitude.

Among those who came to look at him and to listen to him was the
daughter of a little king who lived a great way off; and when he
saw her he loved, for she was beautiful, with a strange and pale
beauty unlike the women of his land; but Dana, the great mother, had
decreed her a heart that was but as the heart of others, and when she
considered the mystery of the hawk feathers she was troubled with a
great horror. He called her to him when the assembly was over and
told her of her beauty, and praised her simply and frankly as though
she were a fable of the bards; and he asked her humbly to give him
her love, for he was only subtle in his dreams. Overwhelmed with his
greatness, she half consented, and yet half refused, for she longed to
marry some warrior who could carry her over a mountain in his arms. Day
by day the king gave her gifts; cups with ears of gold and findrinny
wrought by the craftsmen of distant lands; cloth from over sea, which,
though woven with curious figures, seemed to her less beautiful than
the bright cloth of her own country; and still she was ever between a
smile and a frown; between yielding and withholding. He laid down his
wisdom at her feet, and told how the heroes when they die return to
the world and begin their labour anew; how the kind and mirthful Men
of Dea drove out the huge and gloomy and misshapen People from Under
the Sea; and a multitude of things that even the Sidhe have forgotten,
either because they happened so long ago or because they have not time
to think of them; and still she half refused, and still he hoped,
because he could not believe that a beauty so much like wisdom could
hide a common heart.

There was a tall young man in the dun who had yellow hair, and was
skilled in wrestling and in the training of horses; and one day when
the king walked in the orchard, which was between the foss and the
forest, he heard his voice among the salley bushes which hid the waters
of the foss. 'My blossom,' it said, 'I hate them for making you weave
these dingy feathers into your beautiful hair, and all that the bird
of prey upon the throne may sleep easy o' nights'; and then the low,
musical voice he loved answered: 'My hair is not beautiful like yours;
and now that I have plucked the feathers out of your hair I will put
my hands through it, thus, and thus, and thus; for it casts no shadow
of terror and darkness upon my heart. ' Then the king remembered many
things that he had forgotten without understanding them, doubtful
words of his poets and his men of law, doubts that he had reasoned
away, his own continual solitude; and he called to the lovers in a
trembling voice. They came from among the salley bushes and threw
themselves at his feet and prayed for pardon, and he stooped down and
plucked the feathers out of the hair of the woman and then turned away
towards the dun without a word. He strode into the hall of assembly,
and having gathered his poets and his men of law about him, stood upon
the dais and spoke in a loud, clear voice: 'Men of law, why did you
make me sin against the laws of Eri? Men of verse, why did you make
me sin against the secrecy of wisdom, for law was made by man for the
welfare of man, but wisdom the gods have made, and no man shall live by
its light, for it and the hail and the rain and the thunder follow a
way that is deadly to mortal things? Men of law and men of verse, live
according to your kind, and call Eocha of the Hasty Mind to reign over
you, for I set out to find my kindred. ' He then came down among them,
and drew out of the hair of first one and then another the feathers
of the grey hawk, and, having scattered them over the rushes upon the
floor, passed out, and none dared to follow him, for his eyes gleamed
like the eyes of the birds of prey; and no man saw him again or heard
his voice. Some believed that he found his eternal abode among the
demons, and some that he dwelt henceforth with the dark and dreadful
goddesses, who sit all night about the pools in the forest watching the
constellations rising and setting in those desolate mirrors.


THE HEART OF THE SPRING

A VERY old man, whose face was almost as fleshless as the foot of a
bird, sat meditating upon the rocky shore of the flat and hazel-covered
isle which fills the widest part of the Lough Gill. A russet-faced boy
of seventeen years sat by his side, watching the swallows dipping for
flies in the still water. The old man was dressed in threadbare blue
velvet, and the boy wore a frieze coat and a blue cap, and had about
his neck a rosary of blue beads. Behind the two, and half hidden by
trees, was a little monastery. It had been burned down a long while
before by sacrilegious men of the Queen's party, but had been roofed
anew with rushes by the boy, that the old man might find shelter in his
last days. He had not set his spade, however, into the garden about it,
and the lilies and the roses of the monks had spread out until their
confused luxuriancy met and mingled with the narrowing circle of the
fern. Beyond the lilies and the roses the ferns were so deep that a
child walking among them would be hidden from sight, even though he
stood upon his toes; and beyond the fern rose many hazels and small oak
trees.

'Master,' said the boy, 'this long fasting, and the labour of beckoning
after nightfall with your rod of quicken wood to the beings who dwell
in the waters and among the hazels and oak-trees, is too much for
your strength. Rest from all this labour for a little, for your hand
seemed more heavy upon my shoulder and your feet less steady under
you to-day than I have known them. Men say that you are older than
the eagles, and yet you will not seek the rest that belongs to age. '
He spoke in an eager, impulsive way, as though his heart were in the
words and thoughts of the moment; and the old man answered slowly and
deliberately, as though his heart were in distant days and distant
deeds.

'I will tell you why I have not been able to rest,' he said. 'It is
right that you should know, for you have served me faithfully these
five years and more, and even with affection, taking away thereby a
little of the doom of loneliness which always falls upon the wise. Now,
too, that the end of my labour and the triumph of my hopes is at hand,
it is the more needful for you to have this knowledge. '

'Master, do not think that I would question you. It is for me to keep
the fire alight, and the thatch close against the rain, and strong,
lest the wind blow it among the trees; and it is for me to take the
heavy books from the shelves, and to lift from its corner the great
painted roll with the names of the Sidhe, and to possess the while an
incurious and reverent heart, for right well I know that God has made
out of His abundance a separate wisdom for everything which lives, and
to do these things is my wisdom. '

'You are afraid,' said the old man, and his eyes shone with a momentary
anger.

'Sometimes at night,' said the boy, 'when you are reading, with the
rod of quicken wood in your hand, I look out of the door and see, now
a great grey man driving swine among the hazels, and now many little
people in red caps who come out of the lake driving little white cows
before them. I do not fear these little people so much as the grey man;
for, when they come near the house, they milk the cows, and they drink
the frothing milk, and begin to dance; and I know there is good in the
heart that loves dancing; but I fear them for all that. And I fear the
tall white-armed ladies who come out of the air, and move slowly hither
and thither, crowning themselves with the roses or with the lilies,
and shaking about their living hair, which moves, for so I have heard
them tell each other, with the motion of their thoughts, now spreading
out and now gathering close to their heads. They have mild, beautiful
faces, but, Aengus, son of Forbis, I fear all these beings, I fear the
people of the Sidhe, and I fear the art which draws them about us. '

'Why,' said the old man, 'do you fear the ancient gods who made the
spears of your father's fathers to be stout in battle, and the little
people who came at night from the depth of the lakes and sang among
the crickets upon their hearths? And in our evil day they still watch
over the loveliness of the earth.
But I must tell you why I have fasted
and laboured when others would sink into the sleep of age, for without
your help once more I shall have fasted and laboured to no good end.
When you have done for me this last thing, you may go and build your
cottage and till your fields, and take some girl to wife, and forget
the ancient gods. I have saved all the gold and silver pieces that were
given to me by earls and knights and squires for keeping them from
the evil eye and from the love-weaving enchantments of witches, and
by earls' and knights' and squires' ladies for keeping the people of
the Sidhe from making the udders of their cattle fall dry, and taking
the butter from their churns. I have saved it all for the day when my
work should be at an end, and now that the end is at hand you shall not
lack for gold and silver pieces enough to make strong the roof-tree of
your cottage and to keep cellar and larder full. I have sought through
all my life to find the secret of life. I was not happy in my youth,
for I knew that it would pass; and I was not happy in my manhood, for
I knew that age was coming; and so I gave myself, in youth and manhood
and age, to the search for the Great Secret. I longed for a life
whose abundance would fill centuries, I scorned the life of fourscore
winters. I would be--nay, I _will_ be! --like the Ancient Gods of the
land. I read in my youth, in a Hebrew manuscript I found in a Spanish
monastery, that there is a moment after the Sun has entered the Ram
and before he has passed the Lion, which trembles with the Song of the
Immortal Powers, and that whosoever finds this moment and listens to
the Song shall become like the Immortal Powers themselves; I came back
to Ireland and asked the fairy men, and the cow-doctors, if they knew
when this moment was; but though all had heard of it, there was none
could find the moment upon the hour-glass. So I gave myself to magic,
and spent my life in fasting and in labour that I might bring the Gods
and the Fairies to my side; and now at last one of the Fairies has told
me that the moment is at hand. One, who wore a red cap and whose lips
were white with the froth of the new milk, whispered it into my ear.
To-morrow, a little before the close of the first hour after dawn, I
shall find the moment, and then I will go away to a southern land and
build myself a palace of white marble amid orange trees, and gather the
brave and the beautiful about me, and enter into the eternal kingdom
of my youth. But, that I may hear the whole Song, I was told by the
little fellow with the froth of the new milk on his lips, that you must
bring great masses of green boughs and pile them about the door and the
window of my room; and you must put fresh green rushes upon the floor,
and cover the table and the rushes with the roses and the lilies of the
monks. You must do this to-night, and in the morning at the end of the
first hour after dawn, you must come and find me. '

'Will you be quite young then? ' said the boy.

'I will be as young then as you are, but now I am still old and tired,
and you must help me to my chair and to my books. '

When the boy had left Aengus son of Forbis in his room, and had lighted
the lamp which, by some contrivance of the wizard's, gave forth a sweet
odour as of strange flowers, he went into the wood and began cutting
green boughs from the hazels, and great bundles of rushes from the
western border of the isle, where the small rocks gave place to gently
sloping sand and clay. It was nightfall before he had cut enough for
his purpose, and well-nigh midnight before he had carried the last
bundle to its place, and gone back for the roses and the lilies. It was
one of those warm, beautiful nights when everything seems carved of
precious stones. Sleuth Wood away to the south looked as though cut out
of green beryl, and the waters that mirrored them shone like pale opal.
The roses he was gathering were like glowing rubies, and the lilies had
the dull lustre of pearl. Everything had taken upon itself the look of
something imperishable, except a glow-worm, whose faint flame burnt
on steadily among the shadows, moving slowly hither and thither, the
only thing that seemed alive, the only thing that seemed perishable as
mortal hope. The boy gathered a great armful of roses and lilies, and
thrusting the glow-worm among their pearl and ruby, carried them into
the room, where the old man sat in a half-slumber. He laid armful after
armful upon the floor and above the table, and then, gently closing
the door, threw himself upon his bed of rushes, to dream of a peaceful
manhood with his chosen wife at his side, and the laughter of children
in his ears. At dawn he rose, and went down to the edge of the lake,
taking the hour-glass with him. He put some bread and a flask of wine
in the boat, that his master might not lack food at the outset of his
journey, and then sat down to wait until the hour from dawn had gone
by. Gradually the birds began to sing, and when the last grains of
sand were falling, everything suddenly seemed to overflow with their
music. It was the most beautiful and living moment of the year; one
could listen to the spring's heart beating in it. He got up and went to
find his master. The green boughs filled the door, and he had to make
a way through them. When he entered the room the sunlight was falling
in flickering circles on floor and walls and table, and everything
was full of soft green shadows. But the old man sat clasping a mass of
roses and lilies in his arms, and with his head sunk upon his breast.
On the table, at his left hand, was a leathern wallet full of gold
and silver pieces, as for a journey, and at his right hand was a long
staff. The boy touched him and he did not move. He lifted the hands but
they were quite cold, and they fell heavily.

'It were better for him,' said the lad, 'to have told his beads and
said his prayers like another, and not to have spent his days in
seeking amongst the Immortal Powers what he could have found in his own
deeds and days had he willed. Ah, yes, it were better to have said his
prayers and kissed his beads! ' He looked at the threadbare blue velvet,
and he saw it was covered with the pollen of the flowers, and while he
was looking at it a thrush, who had alighted among the boughs that were
piled against the window, began to sing.


THE CURSE OF THE FIRES AND OF THE SHADOWS

ONE summer night, when there was peace, a score of Puritan troopers
under the pious Sir Frederick Hamilton, broke through the door of the
Abbey of the White Friars which stood over the Gara Lough at Sligo. As
the door fell with a crash they saw a little knot of friars gathered
about the altar, their white habits glimmering in the steady light of
the holy candles. All the monks were kneeling except the abbot, who
stood upon the altar steps with a great brazen crucifix in his hand.
'Shoot them! ' cried Sir Frederick Hamilton, but none stirred, for
all were new converts, and feared the crucifix and the holy candles.
The white lights from the altar threw the shadows of the troopers up
on to roof and wall. As the troopers moved about, the shadows began
a fantastic dance among the corbels and the memorial tablets. For a
little while all was silent, and then five troopers who were the
body-guard of Sir Frederick Hamilton lifted their muskets, and shot
down five of the friars. The noise and the smoke drove away the mystery
of the pale altar lights, and the other troopers took courage and
began to strike. In a moment the friars lay about the altar steps,
their white habits stained with blood. 'Set fire to the house! ' cried
Sir Frederick Hamilton, and at his word one went out, and came in
again carrying a heap of dry straw, and piled it against the western
wall, and, having done this, fell back, for the fear of the crucifix
and of the holy candles was still in his heart. Seeing this, the five
troopers who were Sir Frederick Hamilton's body-guard darted forward,
and taking each a holy candle set the straw in a blaze. The red tongues
of fire rushed up and flickered from corbel to corbel and from tablet
to tablet, and crept along the floor, setting in a blaze the seats and
benches. The dance of the shadows passed away, and the dance of the
fires began. The troopers fell back towards the door in the southern
wall, and watched those yellow dancers springing hither and thither.

For a time the altar stood safe and apart in the midst of its white
light; the eyes of the troopers turned upon it. The abbot whom they
had thought dead had risen to his feet and now stood before it with
the crucifix lifted in both hands high above his head. Suddenly he
cried with a loud voice, 'Woe unto all who smite those who dwell within
the Light of the Lord, for they shall wander among the ungovernable
shadows, and follow the ungovernable fires! ' And having so cried he
fell on his face dead, and the brazen crucifix rolled down the steps
of the altar. The smoke had now grown very thick, so that it drove the
troopers out into the open air. Before them were burning houses. Behind
them shone the painted windows of the Abbey filled with saints and
martyrs, awakened, as from a sacred trance, into an angry and animated
life. The eyes of the troopers were dazzled, and for a while could
see nothing but the flaming faces of saints and martyrs. Presently,
however, they saw a man covered with dust who came running towards
them. 'Two messengers,' he cried, 'have been sent by the defeated Irish
to raise against you the whole country about Manor Hamilton, and if you
do not stop them you will be overpowered in the woods before you reach
home again! They ride north-east between Ben Bulben and Cashel-na-Gael. '

Sir Frederick Hamilton called to him the five troopers who had first
fired upon the monks and said, 'Mount quickly, and ride through the
woods towards the mountain, and get before these men, and kill them. '

In a moment the troopers were gone, and before many moments they had
splashed across the river at what is now called Buckley's Ford, and
plunged into the woods. They followed a beaten track that wound along
the northern bank of the river. The boughs of the birch and quicken
trees mingled above, and hid the cloudy moonlight, leaving the pathway
in almost complete darkness. They rode at a rapid trot, now chatting
together, now watching some stray weasel or rabbit scuttling away
in the darkness. Gradually, as the gloom and silence of the woods
oppressed them, they drew closer together, and began to talk rapidly;
they were old comrades and knew each other's lives. One was married,
and told how glad his wife would be to see him return safe from this
harebrained expedition against the White Friars, and to hear how
fortune had made amends for rashness. The oldest of the five, whose
wife was dead, spoke of a flagon of wine which awaited him upon an
upper shelf; while a third, who was the youngest, had a sweetheart
watching for his return, and he rode a little way before the others,
not talking at all. Suddenly the young man stopped, and they saw that
his horse was trembling. 'I saw something,' he said, 'and yet I do not
know but it may have been one of the shadows. It looked like a great
worm with a silver crown upon his head. ' One of the five put his hand
up to his forehead as if about to cross himself, but remembering that
he had changed his religion he put it down, and said: 'I am certain
it was but a shadow, for there are a great many about us, and of very
strange kinds. ' Then they rode on in silence. It had been raining in
the earlier part of the day, and the drops fell from the branches,
wetting their hair and their shoulders. In a little they began to talk
again. They had been in many battles against many a rebel together,
and now told each other over again the story of their wounds, and
so awakened in their hearts the strongest of all fellowships, the
fellowship of the sword, and half forgot the terrible solitude of the
woods.

Suddenly the first two horses neighed, and then stood still, and would
go no further. Before them was a glint of water, and they knew by the
rushing sound that it was a river. They dismounted, and after much
tugging and coaxing brought the horses to the river-side. In the midst
of the water stood a tall old woman with grey hair flowing over a grey
dress. She stood up to her knees in the water, and stooped from time to
time as though washing. Presently they could see that she was washing
something that half floated. The moon cast a flickering light upon it,
and they saw that it was the dead body of a man, and, while they were
looking at it, an eddy of the river turned the face towards them, and
each of the five troopers recognized at the same moment his own face.
While they stood dumb and motionless with horror, the woman began to
speak, saying slowly and loudly: 'Did you see my son? He has a crown of
silver on his head, and there are rubies in the crown. ' Then the oldest
of the troopers, he who had been most often wounded, drew his sword and
cried: 'I have fought for the truth of my God, and need not fear the
shadows of Satan,' and with that rushed into the water. In a moment he
returned. The woman had vanished, and though he had thrust his sword
into air and water he had found nothing.

The five troopers remounted, and set their horses at the ford, but all
to no purpose. They tried again and again, and went plunging hither
and thither, the horses foaming and rearing. 'Let us,' said the old
trooper, 'ride back a little into the wood, and strike the river
higher up. ' They rode in under the boughs, the ground-ivy crackling
under the hoofs, and the branches striking against their steel caps.
After about twenty minutes' riding they came out again upon the river,
and after another ten minutes found a place where it was possible to
cross without sinking below the stirrups. The wood upon the other
side was very thin, and broke the moonlight into long streams. The
wind had arisen, and had begun to drive the clouds rapidly across the
face of the moon, so that thin streams of light seemed to be dancing
a grotesque dance among the scattered bushes and small fir-trees. The
tops of the trees began also to moan, and the sound of it was like the
voice of the dead in the wind; and the troopers remembered the belief
that tells how the dead in purgatory are spitted upon the points of the
trees and upon the points of the rocks. They turned a little to the
south, in the hope that they might strike the beaten path again, but
they could find no trace of it.

Meanwhile, the moaning grew louder and louder, and the dance of the
white moon-fires more and more rapid. Gradually they began to be
aware of a sound of distant music. It was the sound of a bagpipe,
and they rode towards it with great joy. It came from the bottom of
a deep, cup-like hollow. In the midst of the hollow was an old man
with a red cap and withered face. He sat beside a fire of sticks, and
had a burning torch thrust into the earth at his feet, and played an
old bagpipe furiously. His red hair dripped over his face like the
iron rust upon a rock. 'Did you see my wife? ' he cried, looking up a
moment; 'she was washing! she was washing! ' 'I am afraid of him,' said
the young trooper, 'I fear he is one of the Sidhe. ' 'No,' said the old
trooper, 'he is a man, for I can see the sun-freckles upon his face.
We will compel him to be our guide'; and at that he drew his sword,
and the others did the same. They stood in a ring round the piper, and
pointed their swords at him, and the old trooper then told him that
they must kill two rebels, who had taken the road between Ben Bulben
and the great mountain spur that is called Cashel-na-Gael, and that he
must get up before one of them and be their guide, for they had lost
their way. The piper turned, and pointed to a neighbouring tree, and
they saw an old white horse ready bitted, bridled, and saddled. He
slung the pipe across his back, and, taking the torch in his hand, got
upon the horse, and started off before them, as hard as he could go.

The wood grew thinner and thinner, and the ground began to slope up
toward the mountain. The moon had already set, and the little white
flames of the stars had come out everywhere. The ground sloped more
and more until at last they rode far above the woods upon the wide
top of the mountain. The woods lay spread out mile after mile below,
and away to the south shot up the red glare of the burning town. But
before and above them were the little white flames. The guide drew rein
suddenly, and pointing upwards with the hand that did not hold the
torch, shrieked out, 'Look; look at the holy candles! ' and then plunged
forward at a gallop, waving the torch hither and thither. 'Do you hear
the hoofs of the messengers? ' cried the guide. 'Quick, quick! or they
will be gone out of your hands! ' and he laughed as with delight of the
chase. The troopers thought they could hear far off, and as if below
them, rattle of hoofs; but now the ground began to slope more and more,
and the speed grew more headlong moment by moment. They tried to pull
up, but in vain, for the horses seemed to have gone mad. The guide
had thrown the reins on to the neck of the old white horse, and was
waving his arms and singing a wild Gaelic song. Suddenly they saw the
thin gleam of a river, at an immense distance below, and knew that they
were upon the brink of the abyss that is now called Lug-na-Gael, or in
English the Stranger's Leap. The six horses sprang forward, and five
screams went up into the air, a moment later five men and horses fell
with a dull crash upon the green slopes at the foot of the rocks.


THE OLD MEN OF THE TWILIGHT

AT the place, close to the Dead Man's Point, at the Rosses, where
the disused pilot-house looks out to sea through two round windows
like eyes, a mud cottage stood in the last century. It also was a
watchhouse, for a certain old Michael Bruen, who had been a smuggler
in his day, and was still the father and grandfather of smugglers,
lived there, and when, after nightfall, a tall schooner crept over the
bay from Roughley, it was his business to hang a horn lanthorn in the
southern window, that the news might travel to Dorren's Island, and
from thence, by another horn lanthorn, to the village of the Rosses.
But for this glimmering of messages, he had little communion with
mankind, for he was very old, and had no thought for anything but for
the making of his soul, at the foot of the Spanish crucifix of carved
oak that hung by his chimney, or bent double over the rosary of stone
beads brought to him in a cargo of silks and laces out of France. One
night he had watched hour after hour, because a gentle and favourable
wind was blowing, and _La Mere de Misericorde_ was much overdue; and
he was about to lie down upon his heap of straw, seeing that the dawn
was whitening the east, and that the schooner would not dare to round
Roughley and come to an anchor after daybreak; when he saw a long line
of herons flying slowly from Dorren's Island and towards the pools
which lie, half choked with reeds, behind what is called the Second
Rosses. He had never before seen herons flying over the sea, for they
are shore-keeping birds, and partly because this had startled him out
of his drowsiness, and more because the long delay of the schooner
kept his cupboard empty, he took down his rusty shot-gun, of which the
barrel was tied on with a piece of string, and followed them towards
the pools.

When he came close enough to hear the sighing of the rushes in the
outermost pool, the morning was grey over the world, so that the tall
rushes, the still waters, the vague clouds, the thin mist lying among
the sand-heaps, seemed carved out of an enormous pearl. In a little he
came upon the herons, of whom there were a great number, standing with
lifted legs in the shallow water; and crouching down behind a bank of
rushes, looked to the priming of his gun, and bent for a moment over
his rosary to murmur: 'Patron Patrick, let me shoot a heron; made into
a pie it will support me for nearly four days, for I no longer eat as
in my youth. If you keep me from missing I will say a rosary to you
every night until the pie is eaten. ' Then he lay down, and, resting his
gun upon a large stone, turned towards a heron which stood upon a bank
of smooth grass over a little stream that flowed into the pool; for he
feared to take the rheumatism by wading, as he would have to do if he
shot one of those which stood in the water. But when he looked along
the barrel the heron was gone, and, to his wonder and terror, a man of
infinitely great age and infirmity stood in its place. He lowered the
gun, and the heron stood there with bent head and motionless feathers,
as though it had slept from the beginning of the world. He raised the
gun, and no sooner did he look along the iron than that enemy of all
enchantment brought the old man again before him, only to vanish when
he lowered the gun for the second time. He laid the gun down, and
crossed himself three times, and said a _Paternoster_ and an _Ave
Maria_, and muttered half aloud: 'Some enemy of God and of my patron
is standing upon the smooth place and fishing in the blessed water,'
and then aimed very carefully and slowly. He fired, and when the smoke
had gone saw an old man, huddled upon the grass and a long line of
herons flying with clamour towards the sea. He went round a bend of the
pool, and coming to the little stream looked down on a figure wrapped
in faded clothes of black and green of an ancient pattern and spotted
with blood. He shook his head at the sight of so great a wickedness.
Suddenly the clothes moved and an arm was stretched upwards towards
the rosary which hung about his neck, and long wasted fingers almost
touched the cross. He started back, crying: 'Wizard, I will let no
wicked thing touch my blessed beads'; and the sense of a great danger
just escaped made him tremble.

'If you listen to me,' replied a voice so faint that it was like a
sigh, 'you will know that I am not a wizard, and you will let me kiss
the cross before I die. '

'I will listen to you,' he answered, 'but I will not let you touch my
blessed beads,' and sitting on the grass a little way from the dying
man, he reloaded his gun and laid it across his knees and composed
himself to listen.

'I know not how many generations ago we, who are now herons, were the
men of learning of the King Leaghaire; we neither hunted, nor went to
battle, nor listened to the Druids preaching, and even love, if it
came to us at all, was but a passing fire. The Druids and the poets
told us, many and many a time, of a new Druid Patrick; and most among
them were fierce against him, while a few thought his doctrine merely
the doctrine of the gods set out in new symbols, and were for giving
him welcome; but we yawned in the midst of their tale. At last they
came crying that he was coming to the king's house, and fell to their
dispute, but we would listen to neither party, for we were busy with
a dispute about the merits of the Great and of the Little Metre; nor
were we disturbed when they passed our door with sticks of enchantment
under their arms, travelling towards the forest to contend against his
coming, nor when they returned after nightfall with torn robes and
despairing cries; for the click of our knives writing our thoughts in
Ogham filled us with peace and our dispute filled us with joy; nor
even when in the morning crowds passed us to hear the strange Druid
preaching the commandments of his god. The crowds passed, and one, who
had laid down his knife to yawn and stretch himself, heard a voice
speaking far off, and knew that the Druid Patrick was preaching within
the king's house; but our hearts were deaf, and we carved and disputed
and read, and laughed a thin laughter together. In a little we heard
many feet coming towards the house, and presently two tall figures
stood in the door, the one in white, the other in a crimson robe; like
a great lily and a heavy poppy; and we knew the Druid Patrick and our
King Leaghaire. We laid down the slender knives and bowed before the
king, but when the black and green robes had ceased to rustle, it was
not the loud rough voice of King Leaghaire that spoke to us, but a
strange voice in which there was a rapture as of one speaking from
behind a battlement of Druid flame: "I preached the commandments of the
Maker of the world," it said; "within the king's house and from the
centre of the earth to the windows of Heaven there was a great silence,
so that the eagle floated with unmoving wings in the white air, and
the fish with unmoving fins in the dim water, while the linnets and
the wrens and the sparrows stilled their ever-trembling tongues in
the heavy boughs, and the clouds were like white marble, and the
rivers became their motionless mirrors, and the shrimps in the far-off
sea-pools were still, enduring eternity in patience, although it was
hard. " And as he named these things, it was like a king numbering his
people. "But your slender knives went click, click! upon the oaken
staves, and, all else being silent, the sound shook the angels with
anger. O, little roots, nipped by the winter, who do not awake although
the summer pass above you with innumerable feet. O, men who have no
part in love, who have no part in song, who have no part in wisdom,
but dwell with the shadows of memory where the feet of angels cannot
touch you as they pass over your heads, where the hair of demons cannot
sweep about you as they pass under your feet, I lay upon you a curse,
and change you to an example for ever and ever; you shall become grey
herons and stand pondering in grey pools and flit over the world in
that hour when it is most full of sighs, having forgotten the flame of
the stars and not yet found the flame of the sun; and you shall preach
to the other herons until they also are like you, and are an example
for ever and ever; and your deaths shall come to you by chance and
unforeseen, that no fire of certainty may visit your hearts. "'

The voice of the old man of learning became still, but the voteen
bent over his gun with his eyes upon the ground, trying in vain to
understand something of this tale; and he had so bent, it may be for a
long time, had not a tug at his rosary made him start out of his dream.
The old man of learning had crawled along the grass, and was now trying
to draw the cross down low enough for his lips to reach it.

'You must not touch my blessed beads,' cried the voteen, and struck
the long withered fingers with the barrel of his gun. He need not have
trembled, for the old man fell back upon the grass with a sigh and was
still. He bent down and began to consider the black and green clothes,
for his fear had begun to pass away when he came to understand that
he had something the man of learning wanted and pleaded for, and now
that the blessed beads were safe, his fear had nearly all gone; and
surely, he thought, if that big cloak, and that little tight-fitting
cloak under it, were warm and without holes, Saint Patrick would take
the enchantment out of them and leave them fit for human use. But the
black and green clothes fell away wherever his fingers touched them,
and while this was a new wonder, a slight wind blew over the pool and
crumbled the old man of learning and all his ancient gear into a little
heap of dust, and then made the little heap less and less until there
was nothing but the smooth green grass.


WHERE THERE IS NOTHING, THERE IS GOD.

THE little wicker houses at Tullagh, where the Brothers were accustomed
to pray, or bend over many handicrafts, when twilight had driven them
from the fields, were empty, for the hardness of the winter had brought
the brotherhood together in the little wooden house under the shadow
of the wooden chapel; and Abbot Malathgeneus, Brother Dove, Brother
Bald Fox, Brother Peter, Brother Patrick, Brother Bittern, Brother
Fair-brows, and many too young to have won names in the great battle,
sat about the fire with ruddy faces, one mending lines to lay in the
river for eels, one fashioning a snare for birds, one mending the
broken handle of a spade, one writing in a large book, and one shaping
a jewelled box to hold the book; and among the rushes at their feet lay
the scholars, who would one day be Brothers, and whose school-house
it was, and for the succour of whose tender years the great fire was
supposed to leap and flicker. One of these, a child of eight or nine
years, called Olioll, lay upon his back looking up through the hole
in the roof, through which the smoke went, and watching the stars
appearing and disappearing in the smoke with mild eyes, like the eyes
of a beast of the field. He turned presently to the Brother who wrote
in the big book, and whose duty was to teach the children, and said,
'Brother Dove, to what are the stars fastened? ' The Brother, rejoicing
to see so much curiosity in the stupidest of his scholars, laid down
the pen and said, 'There are nine crystalline spheres, and on the first
the Moon is fastened, on the second the planet Mercury, on the third
the planet Venus, on the fourth the Sun, on the fifth the planet Mars,
on the sixth the planet Jupiter, on the seventh the planet Saturn;
these are the wandering stars; and on the eighth are fastened the fixed
stars; but the ninth sphere is a sphere of the substance on which the
breath of God moved in the beginning. '

'What is beyond that? ' said the child.

'There is nothing beyond that; there is God. '

And then the child's eyes strayed to the jewelled box, where one great
ruby was gleaming in the light of the fire, and he said, 'Why has
Brother Peter put a great ruby on the side of the box? '

'The ruby is a symbol of the love of God. '

'Why is the ruby a symbol of the love of God? '

'Because it is red, like fire, and fire burns up everything, and where
there is nothing, there is God. '

The child sank into silence, but presently sat up and said, 'There is
somebody outside. '

'No,' replied the Brother. 'It is only the wolves; I have heard them
moving about in the snow for some time. They are growing very wild, now
that the winter drives them from the mountains. They broke into a fold
last night and carried off many sheep, and if we are not careful they
will devour everything. '

'No, it is the footstep of a man, for it is heavy; but I can hear the
footsteps of the wolves also. '

He had no sooner done speaking than somebody rapped three times, but
with no great loudness.

'I will go and open, for he must be very cold. '

'Do not open, for it may be a man-wolf, and he may devour us all. '

But the boy had already drawn back the heavy wooden bolt, and all the
faces, most of them a little pale, turned towards the slowly-opening
door.

'He has beads and a cross, he cannot be a man-wolf,' said the child,
as a man with the snow heavy on his long, ragged beard, and on the
matted hair, that fell over his shoulders and nearly to his waist, and
dropping from the tattered cloak that but half-covered his withered
brown body, came in and looked from face to face with mild, ecstatic
eyes. Standing some way from the fire, and with eyes that had rested at
last upon the Abbot Malathgeneus, he cried out, 'O blessed abbot, let
me come to the fire and warm myself and dry the snow from my beard and
my hair and my cloak; that I may not die of the cold of the mountains
and anger the Lord with a wilful martyrdom. '

'Come to the fire,' said the abbot, 'and warm yourself, and eat the
food the boy Olioll will bring you. It is sad indeed that any for whom
Christ has died should be as poor as you. '

The man sat over the fire, and Olioll took away his now dripping cloak
and laid meat and bread and wine before him; but he would eat only of
the bread, and he put away the wine, asking for water.