The royal robe as king I wear
Trails all along the fields of light;
Its silent blue and silver bear
For gems the starry dust of night.

The breath of joy unceasingly
Waves to and fro its fold star-lit,
And far beyond earth's misery
I live and breathe the joy of it."

The priestess advanced from the altar, her eyes sought for the singer;
when she came to the centre of the opening she paused and waited
silently. Almost immediately a young man carrying a small lyre
stepped out of the crowd and stood before her; he did not seem
older than the priestess; he stood unconcerned though her dark
eyes blazed at the intrusion; he met her gaze fearlessly; his
eyes looked into hers--in this way all proud spirits do battle.
Her eyes were black with almost a purple tinge, eyes that had looked
into the dark ways of nature; his were bronze, and a golden tinge,
a mystic opulence of vitality seemed to dance in their depths;
they dazzled the young priestess with the secrecy of joy; her eyes
fell for a moment. He turned round and cried out, "Your priestess
speaks but half truths, her eyes have seen but her heart does not know.
Life is not terrible but is full of joy. Listen to me. I passed
by while she spake, and I saw that a fear lay upon every man, and
you shivered thinking of your homeward path, fearful as rabbits of
the unseen things, and forgetful how you have laughed at death facing
the monsters who crush down the forests. Do you not know that you
are greater than all these spirits before who you bow in dread;