voices crying out of the heart strings of the gods, all sighing still
for the things that might not be. And the dirge and the voices crying,
go drifting away from the Path of Stars, away from the Midst of Things,
till they come twittering among the Worlds, like a great host of birds
that are lost by night. And every note is a life, and many notes become
caught up among the worlds to be entangled with flesh for a little
while before they pass again on their journey to the great Anthem that
roars at the End of Time. Shimono Kani hath given a voice to the wind
and added a sorrow to the sea. But when in lighted chambers after
feasting there arises the voice of the singer to please the King, then
is the soul of that singer crying aloud to his fellows from where he
stands chained to earth. And when at the sound of the singing the heart
of the King grows sad and his princes lament then they remember, though
knowing not that, they remember it, the sad face of Shimono Kani
sitting by his dead brethren, the elder gods, playing on the harp of
crying heart strings whereby he sent their souls among the worlds.

"And when the music of one lute is lonely on the hills at night, then
one soul calleth to his brother souls--the notes of Shimono Kani's
dirge which have not been caught among the worlds--and he knoweth not
to whom he calls or why, but knoweth only that minstrelsy is his only
cry and sendeth it out into the dark.

"But although in the prison houses of earth all memories must die, yet
as there sometimes clings to a prisoner's feet some dust of the fields
wherein he was captured, so sometimes fragments of remembrance cling to
a man's soul after it hath been taken to earth. Then a great minstrel
arises, and, weaving together the shreds of his memories, maketh some
melody such as the hand of Shimono Kani smites out of his harp; and
they that pass by say: 'Hath there not been some such melody before?'