The Crock of Gold

eaten she put on her bonnet and shawl and went through the pine wood in the direction of Gort na Cloca Mora. In a short time she reached the rocky field, and, walking over to the tree in the s

me up from

, please?" s

Magrath, and well you

the voice, and in another moment t

Brigid Beg?" said th

are?" replied the Leprecaun.

ave come here looking for them," w

ave t

the Leprecaun, ope

hin Woman angrily, "and the sooner you let them up the

an go down yourself into our little house

own there," said

aking yourself little,"

, "I'll raise the Shee of Croghan Conghaile against you. You know what happened to the Cluricauns of Oilean na Glas when they stole the Queen's baby - It will be a worse thing than that for

ecaun, and he stood on one leg until she was out o

od she saw Meehawl MacMurrachu travelling in the same

, Meehawl MacMur

ma'am," he replied, "I am

you be?" said

lk with your husband ab

t you have come to a

man right enoug

pipe from here. Let you go right in to him now and I'll stay outside for

ase me, ma'am," said her companion

know it herself. At times when she bathed in the eddy of a mountain stream and saw her reflection looking up from the placid water she thought that she looked very nice, and then a great sadness would come upon her, for what is t

in a slow, warm thoughtlessness wherein, without thinking, many thoughts had entered into her mind and many pictures hung for a moment like birds in the thin air. At first, and for a long time, she had been happy enough; there were many things in which a child might be interested: the spacious heavens which never wore the same beauty on any day; the innumerable little creatures living among the grasses or in the heather; the steep swing of a bird down from the mountain to the

as a virgin; unless it is fittingly apparelled we may not look on its shadowy nakedness: it will fly from us and only return again in the darkness crying in a thin, childish voice which we may not comprehend until, with aching minds, listening and divining, we at last fashion for it those symbols which are its protection and its banner. So she could not understand the touch that came to her from afar and yet how intimately, the whisper so aloof and yet so thrillingly personal. The standard of either language or experience was not hers; she could listen but not think, she could feel but not know, her eyes looked for

, sweet echo, coming fitfully, with little pauses as though a wind disturbed it, and careless, distant eddies. After a few moments she knew it was not a bird. No bird's song had that consecutive melody, for their themes are as careless as their wings. She sat up and looked about her, but there

strange elation taught her feet to dance. Hither and thither she flitted in front of the beasts and behind them. Her feet tripped to a way-ward measure. There was a tune in her ears and she danced to it, throwing her arms out and above her head and swaying and bending as she went. The full freedom of her body was hers now: the lightness

rills, grace-notes, runs and catches it recurred with a strange, almost holy, solemnity,- a hushing, slender melody full of austerity and aloofness. There was something in it to set her heart beating. She yearned to it wi

She drove her charges home in the evening li

nded she saw a figure rise from the fold of a little hill. The sunlight was gleaming from his arms and shoulders but th

at

gazed and he returned her look for a long minute with an intent, expressionless regard. His hair was a cluster of brown curls, his nose was little and straight, and h

y in a dark place, banishing all sadness and gloom. Then he went mincingly away. As

ch we fly - So she sat still and waited but nothing happened. At last, desperately, she dropped her hands. He was sitting on the ground a few paces from her. He was not looking at her but far away sidewards across the spreading hill. His legs were crossed; they were shaggy and hoofed like the legs of a goat: but she would not look at these because of his wonderful, sad, grotesque face. Gaiety is good to look upon and an innocent face is delightful to our souls, but no woman can resist sadness or weakness, and ugliness she dare not resist. Her nature leaps to be the comforter. It is her reason. It exalts her to an ecstasy wherein nothing but the sacrifice

lips and played a plaintive little air, and then he spoke to h

name, Shepherd

n Ni Murrachu,"

They sing and dance and are glad when I come to them in the sunlight; but in this country no people have done any reverence to me. The shepherds fly away when they hear my pipes in the pastures; the maidens

r you say if it is

usk without thinking of these words which have no meaning. The bee flies to the flower and the seed goes abroad and is happy. Is that right, Shepherd Girl?- it is wrong also

of you," sa

ove them for they yearn to you humbly or fiercely, craving your hand upon their heads as I do. If I were not fashioned thus I would not come to you because I would not need you. Man is a god and a brute. He aspires to the stars w

t you want me to

? Wisdom is the spirit and the wings of the spirit, Love is the shaggy beast that goes down. Gallantly he dives, below thought, beyond Wisdom, to rise again as high above these as he had first descended. Wisdom is righteous and clean, but Love is unclean and holy. I sing of the beast and the descent: the great unclean purging itself in fire: the thought that is not born in the measure or the ice or the head, but in the feet and the hot blood and the pulse of fury. The Crown of Life is not lodged in the sun: the wise gods have buried it deeply where the thoughtful will not find it, nor the good: b

nd she did not go with him because of love, nor because his words had