I heed no voice of fay or elf;
I in the winter of my days
Rest in the high ancestral self."

The rites interrupted by the stranger did not continue much longer;
the priestess concluded her words of warning; she did not try to
remove the impression created by the poet's song, she only said,
"His wisdom may be truer. It is more beautiful than the knowledge
we inherit."

The days passed on; autumn died into winter, spring came again
and summer, and the seasons which brought change to the earth
brought change to the young priestess. She sought no longer to
hold sway over the elemental tribes, and her empire over them
departed: the song of the poet rang for ever in her ears; its
proud assertion of kingship and joy in the radiance of a deeper
life haunted her like truth; but such a life seemed unattainable
by her and a deep sadness rested in her heart. The wood-people
often saw her sitting in the evening where the sunlight fell along
the pool, waving slowly its azure and amethyst, sparkling and
flashing in crystal and gold, melting as if a phantom Bird of
Paradise were fading away; her dark head was bowed in melancholy
and all the great beauty flamed and died away unheeded. After a
time she rose up and moved about, she spoke more frequently to the
people who had not dared to question her, she grew into a more
human softness, they feared her less and loved her more; but she
ceased not from her passionate vigils and her step faltered and
her cheek paled, and her eager spirit took flight when the diamond
glow of winter broke out over the world. The poet came again in
the summer; they told him of the change they could not understand,