No More Learning

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.