Once upon a time, when man was new in the woods of the world, when his
feet were scarred with jungle thorns and his hands were red with the
blood of beasts, a great king rose who gathered his neighbors together,
and subdued the wandering tribes. Strange cunning was his, for he ground
the stones to an edge together, and bound them with thongs to sticks;
and he taught his people to pry apart the forest, and beat back the
ravenous beasts. And he bade them honeycomb the mountainside with caves,
to dwell therein with their women. And the most beautiful women the king
took for his own, that his wisdom might not perish from the earth. And
he led the young men to war and conquered all the warring tribes from
the mountains to the sea. And when fire smote a great tree out of
heaven, and raged through the forest till the third sun, he seized a
burning brand and lit an altar to his god. And there, beside the
ever-burning fire, he sat and made laws and did justice. And his people
loved and feared him.
And the king grew old. And for seven journeys of the sun from morn to
morn he moved not, neither uttered word. And the hearts of the people
were troubled, but none dared speak to the king's despair; neither wise
men nor warriors dared cry out unto him.
Now the youngest son of the king was a lad still soft of flesh, who had
never run to battle not sat in council nor stood before the king. And
his heart yearned for his father, and he bowed before his mother and
said, "Give me thy blessing, for I have words within me for the king;
yea, as the sea sings to the night with waves will my words roll in
singing unto his grief." And his mother said, "Go, my son; for thou hast
words of power and soothing, and the king shall be healed."
So the youth went forth and bowed him toward the king's seat. And the
wise men and warriors laid hands upon him, and said, "Who art thou, that
thou shouldst go in ahead of us to him who sitteth in darkness?" And the
king's son rose, and stretched forth his arms, and said, "Unhand me and
let me go, ye silent ones, who for seven sun-journeys have watched in
darkness and uttered no word of light! Unhand me, for as a fig-tree with
fruit, so my heart is rich with words for the king."
Then he put forth his strength and strode on singing softly, and bowed
him before the king. And he spake the king's great deeds in cunning
words--his wars and city-carvings and wise laws, his dominion over men
and beasts and the thick woods of the earth; his greeting of the gods
with fire.
And lo, the king lifted up his head and stretched forth his arms and
wept. "Yea, all these things have I done," he said, "and they shall
perish with me. My death is upon me, and I shall die, and the tribes I
have welded together shall be broken apart, and the beasts shall win
back their domain, and the green jungle shall overgrow my mansions. Lo,
the fire shall go out on the altar of the gods, and my glory shall be as
a crimson cloud that the night swallows up in darkness."
Then the young man lifted up his voice and cried: "Oh, king, be
comforted! Thy deeds shall not pass as a cloud, neither shall thy laws
be strewn before the wind. For I will carve thy glory in rich and
rounded words--yea, I will string thy deeds together in jewelled beads
of perfect words that thy sons shall wear on their hearts forever."
"Verily thy words are rich with song," said the king; "but thou shalt
die, and who will utter them? Like twinkling foam is the speech of man's
mouth; like foam from a curling wave that vanishes in the sun."
"Nay, let thy heart believe me, oh king my father," said the youth. "For
the words of my mouth shall keep step with the ripple of waves and the
beating of wings; yea, they shall mount with the huge paces of the sun
in heaven, that cease not for my ceasing. Men shall sound them on
suckling tongues still soft with milk, they shall run into battle to the
tune of thy deeds, and kindle their fire with the breath of thy wisdom.
And thy glory shall be ever living, as a jewel of jasper from the
earth--yea, as the green jewel of jasper carven into a god for the rod
of thy power, oh king, and of the power of thy sons forever."
The king sat silent till the going-down of the sun. Then lifted he his
head, and stroked his beard, and spake: "Verily the sun goes down, and
my beard shines whiter than his, and I shall die. Now therefore stand at
my right hand, O son of my wise years, child of my dreams. Stand at my
right hand, and fit thy speech to music, that men may hold in their
hearts thy rounded words. Forever shalt thou keep thy place, and utter
thy true tale in the ears of the race. And woe be unto them that hear
thee not! Verily that generation shall pass as a cloud, and its glory
shall be as a tree that withers. For thou alone shalt win the flying
hours to thee, and keep the beauty of them for the joy of men forever."
_H. M._