Part 25 (1/2)

That third one, is he a Spirit, alone, uncompanioned? I think sometimes that these three are one, and that Silence is his inward voice and the Wind the sound of his unwearying feet Does he not come in wind, whether his footfall be on the wild rose, or on the bitter wave, or in the tempest shaken with noises and rains that are cries and tears, sighs and prayers and tears?

He has many ways, many hopes, ht, above the cradle, above dwellers by the hearth, above the sorrowful, above the joyous children of the sun, above the grave Must he not be divine, who is worshi+pped of all men? Does not the wild-dove take the rainbow upon its breast because of him, and the sal becoed and radiant?

The Wind, Silence, and Love: if one cannot learn of these, is there any comradeshi+p that can tell us more, that can ht what is waste and barren?

And, in the hidden hour, one will stoop, and kiss us on the brohen our sudden stillness will, for others, already bebreaking And the third will ht of joy in his eyes; but we shall not see him at first because of the sunblaze, or hear his words because in that summer air the birds will be multitude

Meanwhile they are near and intiet wholly, nor cease to dreao darkly without torches and songs, if these accoo one way

BARABAL

A MEMORY

I have spoken in ”Iona” and elsewhere of the old Highland woman as my nurse She was not really old, but to ht of her She was one of the nant natures I have known

I owe her a great debt In a reat dark eyes, stooping over”Wae's me for Prince Charlie,” or an old Gaelic Laotten, beautiful and ay when the Queen of Scots was done to death, ”lest her cries should be heard” Or, later, I can hear her telling lowing peats in her little island-cottage, speaking of er dreams and visions To her, and to an old islander, Seumas Macleod, of whom I have elsewhere spoken in this volume, I owe more than to any other influences in my childhood

Perhaps it is froreat dislike of towns

There is no ss--one cohout the west

I never knew any one whose speech, whose thought, was so coloured with the old wisdos and old poetry of her race To , steadfast, true to ”her own,” her people, her clan, her love, herself ”When you come to love,” she said to me once, ”keep always to the one you love a mouth of silk and a heart of hemp”

Her mind was a storehouse of proverbial lore Had I been older and wiser, I itively I cannot attempt to reach adequately even the s; it would take overlong Most of the people But, a others of which I have kept note, I have not anywhere seen the following in print ”You could always tell where his thoughts would bepointing one way like the hounds of Finn” (_ie_ the two stars of the north, the Pointers); ”It's a co, as the wren said when she counted the stars”; ”The dog's howl is the stag's laugh”; and again, ”I would rather cry with the plover than laugh with the dog” (boththat the imprisoned comfort of the towns is not to be compared with the life of the hills, for all its wildness); ”True love is like a h that can hold the sun,ceases”; ”St Bride's Flower, St Bride's Bird, and St Bride's Gift de, 'us Gille-Bhrigde, 'us Lunn-Bata Bhrigde, etc--the dandelion, the oyster-catcher, and the cradle_[9]--because the dandelion co is seen everywhere, and because in a fine season the oyster-catcher's early breeding-note fortells prosperity with the nets, and because a birth in spring is good luck for child and mother) ”It's easier for most folk to say _Lus Bealtainn_ than _La' Bealtainn_”: ie people can see the sreat things that concern the world; literally, ”It's easier to say old than may-day”--in Gaelic, a close play upon words; ”_Cuir do lamh leinn_,” ”Lend us a hand,” as the fox in the ditch said to the duckling on the roadside; ”_Gu'u'n till thu_,” ”May you return in health,” as the young man said when his conscience left him; ”It's only a hand's-turn froe); ”Saying _eud_ is next door to saying _eudail_,” as the girl laughed back to her sweetheart (_eud_ is jealousy and _eudail_ an_ (shoes) to cli those which will not be new to some readers, I have note of a rhy about the three kinds of love, and the four stars of destiny Wind co star, runs the first; heat from the summer star, water from the autumn star, and frost from the winter star Barabal's variant ind (air) fro star in the east; fire (heat) from the summer star in the south; water from the autumn star in the west; wisdom, silence and death from the star in the north” Both this season-rhyme and that of the three kinds of love are well known The latter runs:--

_Gaol nam fear-dolain, haoith tuath 'thig o'n charraig; Gaol nau cala_

_Lawless love is as the wild tides of the sea; And the roa fro safe home to haven_

I have found these two and s and rhyiven, in collections of proverbs and folklore, but do not reh doubtless ”The Four Stars of Destiny (or Fate)” will be recalled by some It ran somewhat as follows:--

_Reul Near_ (Star of the East), Give us kindly birth; _Reul Deas_ (Star of the South), Give us great love; _Reul Niar_ (Star of the West), Give us quiet age; _Reul Tuath_ (Star of the North), Give us Death

It was fro of Fionn and the Feinn (popularly now Fingal and the Fingalians), ”fo-gheasaibh,” spellbound, till the day of their return to the living world In effect the several legends are the same That which Barabal told was as an isleswoman would ive a woels fan the flahts hite as a child's thoughts, and so brave that none could withstand hihest reat cave that no one has ever entered A huge white hound slept at the entrance to the cave He stepped over it, and it did not wake He entered, and passed four tall des of red, another ings of white, another ings of green, and another ings of black They did not uplift their dreadful eyes

Then he saw Fionn and the Feinn sitting in a circle

Their long hair trailed on the ground; their eyebrows fell to their beards; their beards lay upon their feet, so that nothing of their bodies was seen but hands like scarped rocks that clasped gigantic swords Behind theold He blew this horn, but nothing happened, except that the huge white hound came in, and went to the hollow place round which the Feinn sat, and in silence ate greedily of treasures of precious stones He blew the horn again, and Fionn and all the Feinn opened their great, cold, grey, lifeless eyes, and stared upon hirave and the deadhands and held his feet, and as though his soul saw Fear

But with a hty effort he blew the horn a third time The Feinn leaned on their elbows, and Fionn said, ”Is the end come?” But thethat ancientupon its elbow, spellbound thus, waiting for the end So they shall be found The four de hi of the white hound, and thedead in a pasture in the little island that was his hoend was plainly in Barabal's mind when her last ill came upon her In her deliriu down the hill!”