{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_62912/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_62912","id":"gutenberg_62912","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62912","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Danish fiction -- Translations into English","Seasons -- Fiction"],"text":"THE FOUR SEASONS\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n  THE\n  FOUR SEASONS\n\n  BY\n\n  CARL EWALD\n\n  TRANSLATED BY\n\n  ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS\n\n  NEW YORK\n  DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY\n  1913\n\n\n\n\n  COPYRIGHT, 1913,\n\n  BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY,\n\n  _Published, October, 1913_\n\n\n\n\nTRANSLATOR\u2019S NOTE\n\n\n_The songs in this story have been translated into English verse by\nmy friend Mr. Osman Edwards, who has successfully accomplished the\ndifficult task of retaining not only the rhymes, but also the lilting\nrhythm of the originals._\n\n                                                             A. T. DE M.\n\n  CHELSEA, 30 April, 1913.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                         PAGE\n\n  TRANSLATOR\u2019S NOTE       vii\n\n  PROLOGUE                 xi\n\n\n  CHAPTER I\n\n  THE FIRST MEETING         1\n\n\n  CHAPTER II\n\n  SPRING                   25\n\n\n  CHAPTER III\n\n  SUMMER                   65\n\n\n  CHAPTER IV\n\n  AUTUMN                  101\n\n\n  CHAPTER V\n\n  WINTER                  141\n\n\n  CHAPTER VI\n\n  THE SECOND MEETING      169\n\n\n\n\nPROLOGUE\n\n\n\n\nPROLOGUE\n\n\nLo, nowadays the earth is white or green, according as Winter rules or\nSpring. The thrush sings in the grove and the canary in his cage, the\nsmoke rises from the house-top and the church-bell tolls for evensong.\nThe monk walks in the meadow and the poet writes verse.\n\nBut once things were different.\n\nOnce things were so that, had somebody taken a walk on the earth,\nnowhere would a dog have run out of a house and barked at him. For\nthere was not upon all the earth a single dog to run out of a house\nnor a single house for a dog to run out of.\n\nHe would not have come upon a tree nor a flower nor a blade of grass.\nNor could he have found a drop of water to quench his thirst with.\n\nFor there was nobody on the earth--nobody and nothing.\n\n_Had_ there been anybody who wanted to take a walk, he simply could not\nhave done so. For the earth was mere vapour and mist, so that he would\nhave fallen plump through her and plunged straight into space, where\nthe stars float.\n\nAnd he would not have had much satisfaction from this. For, unless he\nhad been quite round and nice and bright, he would have cut a foolish\nfigure among the stars.\n\nSuch was the state of things.\n\nBut the earth quite understood that she could not go on like this for\never. She could not have been intended to be never more than smoke. So\nshe pulled herself together and did her best. But she had to go through\na terrible amount and it was a hard time for her, which she never\nforgot and which she bears the marks of to this day.\n\nShe had to go through fire and through water too.\n\nFor thousands of years, she flew through space like a ball of fire\nand, when at length she had a stone crust about her, the rain poured\ndown upon her nor stopped until she sailed away like an enormous drop\nof water.\n\nMeanwhile, the fire in the earth\u2019s interior broke out each moment\nthrough the crust, burst it and split it criss-crosswise and flung the\npieces higgledy-piggledy to every side.\n\n\u201cMy poor, dear little Earth!\u201d said the sun and looked at her kindly.\n\n\u201cWhy do you bother about that clot?\u201d asked one of the big stars. \u201cShine\non us, who are worth shining on.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe earth is no clot to me,\u201d replied the sun. \u201cShe is my child, like\nyourself and the others. And she is the youngest and therefore nearest\nto my heart. It is not so very many thousand years ago since she broke\nloose from me and sallied forth into the universe to tempt fortune\nsingle-handed. If only she behaves pluckily and does not lose heart, I\nshall have pleasure enough in her.\u201d\n\nThe earth heard this and held out.\n\nYear by year, the stone crust grew thicker, the water sank gradually\ninto the ground and the land rose to the surface. But, even when the\ncrust became so thick that the fire could not break through it just\nwhen and where it pleased, but had to make a regular effort when it\nwished to create a sensation, even then the earth\u2019s trials were not\nover.\n\nThere was no order about her at all.\n\nFor instance, it was just as warm in Greenland as in Italy. Plenty\nof plants grew on the earth, but they were queer ones: ferns and\nhorse-tails as tall as the tallest trees in the forest nowadays. There\nwere animals too, but they were strange and uncanny creatures which\nwe never meet with now except in the old fairy-tales. There were\nquadrupeds that were thirty yards long and swam in the water; and\nthere were dragons that flew in the air and looked horrid.\n\nAnd so it happened that it became ridiculously cold on the greatest\npart of the earth. Wherever one looked lay ice and snow; and the\nanimals and plants died.\n\nBut then the fire broke out again, more violently than ever, and\noverturned hills and dales. Great new lands rose up out of the sea; and\nthe sea swept its broad waves ruthlessly over the old lands.\n\nNo one could conceive what the end would be.\n\n\u201cMy poor, dear little Earth!\u201d said the sun.\n\nBut how all these things were put in order at last--this you shall read\nin the fairy-tale of _The Four Seasons_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST MEETING\n\n\n\n\n_The Four Seasons_\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE FIRST MEETING\n\n  _By the grace of God, conferred on\n  Princes four, they share Earth\u2019s burden:\n  Theirs the glory, hers the guerdon._\n\n\nIt happened one day that two princes came walking over the earth of\neach in the other\u2019s direction.\n\nOne of them came from the North, the other from the South. They were\nboth tall, taller than men, taller than any champion of romance. They\ncarried their heads royally and high and set their feet firmly upon\nthe ground, as if it belonged to them.\n\nThe one who came from the North was the elder. He was an old man with a\nmight of white hair and beard; his naked breast was shaggy, shaggy his\nlegs and hands. He looked strong and wild, with cold, stern eyes.\n\nThe one who came from the South was young, but no less powerful than\nthe other. His face and hands were burned by the sun, his eyes strong\nand gentle as the sun. Over his shoulder he wore a purple cloak, round\nhis loins a golden girdle. In the girdle was a wonderful red rose.\n\nWhen the princes saw each other from afar, they stopped for a moment\nand then walked quickly on again, as though they longed to meet. But,\nwhen they had come a little closer to each other, they both stood still\nonce more. The young one shivered when he met the old one\u2019s glance; and\nthe sweat sprang to the old one\u2019s brow when the young one looked at him.\n\nThey stood thus for a time. Then they sat down, each upon a mountain,\nand gazed at each other and waited for a while in silence.\n\nThe young one was the first to speak:\n\n\u201cYou are Winter, I presume?\u201d he asked.\n\nThe old one nodded:\n\n\u201cI am Winter, the lord of the earth,\u201d he answered.\n\nThe young one laughed till the mountains rang:\n\n\u201cAre you really?\u201d said he. \u201cAnd I am Summer, the lord of the earth.\u201d\n\nThey sat again for a while and measured each other with angry glances.\n\nThen Winter said:\n\n\u201cI came out to meet you and talk to you. But I do not like you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI came intending to talk you into your senses,\u201d said Summer. \u201cBut I\ncan hardly bear to look at you, you are so grim and ugly.\u201d\n\n\u201cShall we divide the earth between us?\u201d asked Winter. \u201cYou come\neverywhere with your namby-pamby sunshine and melt my ice and plant\nyour paltry flowers. I retaliate, as you know. I smother your creatures\nin snow and spoil your pleasure. We are both equally strong: shall we\nconclude a peace?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat would _that_ lead to?\u201d asked Summer, suspiciously.\n\n\u201cEach of us must keep to his own,\u201d replied Winter. \u201cI have my\nice-castle in the North, where you can never come, and you have your\nsun-palace down in the South, where my sway does not reach. As we\ncannot bear the sight of each other, we had better lay a broad waste\nbelt between our kingdoms.\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing shall be waste,\u201d said Summer. \u201cEverything shall be green, as\nfar as I am concerned. I like to wander out of my summer-palace all\nover the earth and I will carry my light and my heat as far into your\nice-fields as I can. I know no greater pleasure than to conjure forth a\ngreen spot in your snow ... even though it be but for a day.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are conceited, because you are in luck\u2019s way for the moment,\u201d\nreplied Winter. \u201cBut you should remember that the times may change. I\n_was_ the more powerful once and I may become so again. Do not forget\nthat I am born of the eternal, unutterable cold of space.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I am the child of the sun and was powerful before you,\u201d said\nSummer, proudly.\n\nWinter passed his fingers through his beard; and an avalanche came\nrushing down the mountain-side.\n\n\u201cUgh!\u201d said Summer and wrapped himself closer in his purple cloak.\n\n\u201cWould you like to see my might?\u201d asked Winter.\n\nHe raised his arms in the air; and, then and there, the mountain on\nwhich he sat was quite transformed. A wild, blustering storm roared\nover it; and the snow swept down from the sky. A brook which had been\nleaping gaily over the slope turned suddenly to ice; and the waterfall\nwhich sang and hummed over the precipice fell silent at once and\nits water froze into yard-long icicles. When it ceased snowing, the\nmountain was white from top to foot.\n\n\u201cNow it\u2019s my turn,\u201d said Summer.\n\nHe took the rose from his girdle and flung it on the mountain whereon\nhe sat; and forthwith the loveliest roses shot up from the ground.\nThey nodded in the breeze from the point of every rock and filled the\nvalleys with their fragrance and their colours. In every bush sat merry\nnightingales and sang; and from the flower-stalks heavy dew-drops hung\nand gleamed in the sun.\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d said Summer.\n\nWinter bent forward and stared hard at the loveliest rose of them all.\nThen the dew-drop that hung under the flower froze into an icicle. The\nbird that sat in its branches and sang fell stiff and frozen to the\nground; and the rose itself withered and died.\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d said Winter.\n\nBut Summer stood up and looked with his gentle eyes at Winter\u2019s\nmountain, at the place where the snow lay deepest. And, on the spot at\nwhich he looked, the snow melted and from out the ground sprang the\nlargest and loveliest Christmas rose that any one could hope to set\neyes upon.\n\nIn this wise, the two princes could make no way against each other.\n\nThe day wore on; evening came and night. The moon shone upon the\nsplendid snow-clad mountain, which gleamed and glittered like diamonds.\nAcross from Summer\u2019s mountain sounded the nightingale\u2019s song; and the\nscent of the roses filled all the fair space around.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next morning, just as the sun was rising, two other princes came\nwalking towards the place where Winter and Summer sat glaring at each\nother.\n\nOne of them came from the East, the other from the West. They were\nshorter in stature than Winter and Summer and not so strong nor yet so\nawful to look at. But they were big enough even then; and there was no\nmistaking that they were high lords and mighty men. For they walked the\nearth freely and proudly and looked around them as though they feared\nno one and nothing.\n\nThe one who came from the East was the younger, a mere stripling\nwithout a hair on his chin. His face was soft and round, his mouth was\never smiling and his eyes dreamy and moist. His long hair was bound\nwith a ribbon, like a woman\u2019s. He was clad in green from top to toe.\nThe ribbon round his hair was green, as were the bows to his shoes; and\na lute was slung across his shoulder by a broad green ribbon of silk.\nThe newcomer walked as gaily and lightly as though his feet did not\ntouch the ground and, all the time, as he walked, he hummed a tune and\nplucked at the strings of his lute.\n\nThe one who came from the West was much older. His hair and beard were\ndashed with grey; and there were wrinkles on his forehead. But he was\ngood to look at and he was arrayed in the most splendid attire of them\nall. His cloak gleamed red and brown and green and yellow; and, as\nhe marched towards the sun, he spread it so that it shone in all its\ncolours. He himself gazed contentedly right into the sun\u2019s radiance, as\nif he could never have enough of it. In his hand he carried a mighty\nhorn.\n\nNow, when these two had neared the others, they bowed low before them.\nThe one who came from the East bowed lowest before Summer; but the one\nwho came from the West showed Winter the greatest deference.\n\nThereupon they sat down, just opposite each other, each on his\nmountain, and so they all four sat for a while, in a circle, and said\nnothing. Then Winter asked:\n\n\u201cWho may you two be?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am Autumn,\u201d said he who had come from the West.\n\n\u201cI am Spring,\u201d said the other.\n\nWinter looked hard at them and shook his head:\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know you,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cI have never heard your names,\u201d said Summer.\n\n\u201cWe have come to rule over the earth,\u201d said Spring.\n\nBut now Winter grew angry in earnest. He wrapped his head in the most\nterrible snow-storm that had ever been seen in the land; and his voice\nsounded like thunder from out of the storm:\n\n\u201cGo away, back to whence you came! We do not know you and we have\nnothing to say to you. Summer and I are the princes of the earth; and\nwe already are one prince too many. If more come, it will simply mean\nendless trouble.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have not come to cause trouble, but to make peace,\u201d said Autumn,\ngently.\n\n\u201cBetween Winter and me no peace is possible,\u201d said Summer.\n\n\u201cThat is why we want to part you,\u201d said Spring. \u201cWe two who have\ncome to-day well know that we are not so powerful as you. We bow\nrespectfully before you, because your might is greater, your sway more\nfirmly established. We do not presume to encroach on your dominions.\nBut we want to come between you and hinder you from laying waste the\nearth.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, if you could do _that_!\u201d said Summer.\n\n\u201cYes, then there would be some sense in it,\u201d growled Winter.\n\n\u201cWe can,\u201d said Autumn. \u201cWe understand you both, because we have\nsomething of both of you in us. When you approach each other, one of us\ntwo will step in between; and the land where we are shall then be ours.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will never let go my ice-castle in the North!\u201d cried Winter.\n\n\u201cI will suffer no foreign prince in my sun-palace in the South!\u201d cried\nSummer.\n\n\u201cNo more you shall,\u201d said Autumn. \u201cNone shall disturb you in the\nplaces where you reign in your might. But now listen to me. When you\ntwo move over the earth, Spring and I will always come between you and\nsoften the tracks of the one who is going and clear the way for the one\nwho is coming. In this wise, we will reign for a while, each in his own\ntime and each for a fourth part of the year. We will follow after one\nanother in a circle which shall never be broken nor changed. And thus\nthe poor earth will gain peace and order in her affairs.\u201d\n\nWhen the Prince of Autumn had spoken, they were all silent for a while\nand looked out before them. Winter and Summer distrusted each other and\nneither of them would utter the first word. But Spring and Autumn half\nrose from their seats and bowed before the two mighty ones:\n\n\u201cI will spread the cloth for Summer,\u201d said Spring.\n\n\u201cI will make Winter\u2019s bed,\u201d said Autumn.\n\n\u201cI will release earth and water from their icy fetters and prepare them\nfor your glory, O beauteous Summer,\u201d said Spring.\n\n\u201cI shall bite your heel!\u201d roared Winter.\n\n\u201cAnd I will make room for your storms and snows, O stern Winter,\u201d said\nAutumn. \u201cBut first I will bring Summer\u2019s produce home.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall send my last sunbeams after you and give you lovely days,\u201d\nsaid Summer.\n\nAgain the four princes sat silent and gazed out over the earth.\n\nAnd again evening came and night. The moon shone upon the snow-clad\nmountain, Summer\u2019s roses shed their scent, Spring hummed a tune and\nplucked at the strings of his lute, Autumn\u2019s motley cloak flapped in\nthe wind.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next morning, Winter rose and stood upon his mountain, all tall and\nmighty. The other princes did as he did.\n\n\u201cLet it be so then!\u201d said Winter. \u201cFor a hundred thousand years it\nshall be so and no otherwise. When that time is past, we shall meet\nhere again and talk of how things have gone.\u201d\n\nThen the four princes bowed to one another and strode away across the\nearth.\n\n\n\n\nSPRING\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nSPRING\n\n  _In azure now out of grey mist grew\n  My own sweet violet, shy and blue,\n    With eyes of smiling sunshine\n  And tears of diamond dew._\n\n\nThe Prince of Winter sat on the mountains and gazed upon the valley.\n\nHe knew that Spring must soon be here and anxiously looked out for him.\nBut there was nothing to see but snow and snow and yet more snow; and\nhe began to think that young Spring was afraid.\n\nHe laughed scornfully and sent his gales howling round the\nmountain-peaks. Wildly they rushed over the hills, snapped great trees\nin the wood and broke the ice on the river to pieces. They drove the\nfloes before them, flung them over the meadows and whipped the water\ninto foam.\n\n\u201cThere, there!\u201d said Winter. \u201cSoftly, my children, softly!\u201d\n\nHe bade them go down again; and, grumbling, they crept round behind the\nmountains.\n\nWhen night came and the stars twinkled, Winter stared at the river with\nhis cold eyes; and there and then there was ice again upon the water.\nBut the waves broke it into two at once. They leapt and danced and\ncracked the thin crust each time that it formed over them.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d asked Winter, in surprise.\n\nAt that moment, a soft song sounded far down in the valley:\n\n  Play up! Play soon!\n  Keep time! Keep tune!\n    Ye wavelets, blue and tender!\n\nWinter clutched his great beard and leant forward to listen. Now the\nsong sounded again and louder:\n\n  Play up! Play soon!\n  Keep time! Keep tune!\n    Ye wavelets, blue and tender!\n  Keep tune! Keep time!\n  Burst ice and rime\n    In equinoctial splendour!\n\nUp sprang Winter and stared, with his hand over his brows.\n\nDown below in the valley stood the Prince of Spring, young and\nstraight, in his green garb, with the lute slung over his shoulder. His\nlong hair flowed in the wind, his face was soft and round, his mouth\nwas ever smiling, his eyes were dreamy and moist.\n\n\u201cYou come too soon!\u201d shouted Winter.\n\nBut Spring bowed low and replied:\n\n\u201cI come by our appointment.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou come too soon!\u201d shouted Winter again. \u201cI am not nearly done. I\nhave a thousand bags full of snow and my gales are just as strong and\nbiting as they were in January.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is your affair, not mine,\u201d said Spring, calmly. \u201cYour time\nis past now, and my sway is beginning. Withdraw in peace to your\nmountains.\u201d\n\nThen Winter folded his strong, hairy hands and looked anxiously at\nSpring:\n\n\u201cGive me a short respite!\u201d he said. \u201cI implore you to grant me a little\ndelay. Give me a month, a week; give me just three poor days.\u201d\n\nSpring did not answer, but looked out over the valley, as though he had\nnot heard, and loosened the green silk ribbon by which he carried his\nlute.\n\nBut the Prince of Winter stamped on the mountains till they shook and\nclenched his fists in mighty anger:\n\n\u201cGo back to whence you came,\u201d he said, \u201cor I shall turn my snows over\nyou and bury you so deep that you will never find your way out of\nthe valley. I shall let loose my storms till your wretched strains\nare drowned in their roaring. Your song shall freeze in your throat.\nWherever you walk or stand, I shall follow your tracks. Whatever you\ncall forth by day I shall slay by night.\u201d\n\nSpring raised his head and strode through the valley. He plucked\nharder at the strings of his lute and every tree in the forest bent\nforward to listen. The earth sighed under the snow, the waves of the\nriver stood still and heard and then joined in the song, as they leapt\ntowards the sea. Winter himself swallowed his anger for a moment and\nlistened to Spring\u2019s song:\n\n  In vain thy prayer would soften, in vain thy menace frighten;\n  Behind the blackest cloud-wrack, the sunbeams laugh and lighten.\n\nIt rang through the valley in long, loud, solemn tones; and Echo\nanswered from every hill and mountain.\n\nBut Winter shook his clenched fists to the sky and shouted aloud:\n\n\u201cOut, all my mighty storms! Out with you, out! Burst down upon the\nvalley and shatter and destroy all this! Rush over the hills and snap\nevery tree in the forest! Overturn the mountains, if you can, and crush\nyonder green mountebank beneath them!\u201d\n\nOut rushed the storm; and the snow came. It was awful weather. The\ntrees creaked and crashed and fell, the river overflowed its banks, the\nfoam of the waves spurted right up to the sky, great avalanches of snow\npoured down the mountain-slope.\n\nBut Spring went his way through the valley and sang, in ever fuller and\nstronger tones:\n\n  Let all thy loud winds bluster, let all thy tempest bellow;\n  Let all thy white, bright snow-birds loose, across the meadow flying!\n  Behold my foot is on the bridge and all the ice-flowers dying!\n  Thou knowest thy power in the vale has met its conquering fellow.\n\n\u201cBetter than that!\u201d shouted Winter. \u201cRoar, storm; whirl, snow; lash,\nrain; beat, hail!\u201d\n\nAnd the storm roared louder; and the snow whirled down. It grew as dark\nas though the sun, the moon and all the stars had been put out. Great\nblocks of stone rolled down over the valley; the mountains shook and\nsplit. It was as though the end of the world had come.\n\nBut high through the murk shone Spring\u2019s green garb; and louder than\nstorm and thunder rang his song. Earth and air and water sang with him:\nthe poorest blade of grass beneath the snow, the crow in the wood, the\nworm in the mould, each of them joined in the song according to its\npower. Even the trees that fell in the forest under the onslaught of\nthe storm confessed Spring in the hour of their death:\n\n  Thou knowest it were best to yield to save thy might from falling;\n  Thou knowest I am come to drape the porch of Summer\u2019s palace.\n  Thy victims, harried on the hills and murdered in the valleys,\n  Awake to life, to happy life, at my soft song\u2019s recalling.\n\nThen Winter gave in.\n\nThe storm flew north over the mountains with a howl; and it stopped\nsnowing. The river returned to its bed. Now and again there was a crash\nin the forest, when a branch that had been struck by lightning fell to\nthe ground. Otherwise all was still.\n\nAnd then it began to thaw.\n\nThe snow had often sparkled in the sun and rejoiced, but that was a\ndifferent sun from the one that now stared down upon it. The sun now\nriding in the sky disliked the snow and the snow disliked the sun.\n\n\u201cWhat on earth do _you_ want here?\u201d asked the sun and stared with\never-increasing curiosity.\n\nAnd the snow felt quite awkward and wished itself miles away. It\nmelted up above till great holes came; and it melted down below till\nit suddenly collapsed and turned to nothing, more or less. Everywhere\nunderneath it, the water ran in rills: through the wood, down the\nhillside, over the meadow, out in the river, which carried it patiently\nto the sea. Everywhere stood puddles of water, large and small; they\nsoaked slowly into the ground, as its frozen crust disappeared by\ndegrees. But sometimes they had to wait, for the ground was hard put to\nit to drink so much at a time.\n\nAnd, while it thawed, harder and harder, and the coat of snow grew\nthinner every day, Spring stood on the edge of the wood and bowed to\nthe earth and sang:\n\n  My little snowdrop, gentle sprite,\n  Thy heart was ever brave and bright.\n  Not once it faltered, pierced with fright,\n    At Winter\u2019s white wrath bleeding.\n\nUnder Spring\u2019s song, a hundred snowdrops burst from the ground and\nshone forth white and green. They nodded their heavy heads; and Spring\nnodded to them. But then he went on, till he stopped again, farther\naway, and sang:\n\n  And quick, each tiny crocus, too,\n  Put on your frocks of daintiest hue,\n  Frocks yellow, white and dusky-blue,\n    In full first clusters leading!\n\nThe crocuses at once opened their flowers and strutted, short as they\nwere, for they were ever so proud of being among the first. But, while\nthey were still swarming out, already Spring was in a fresh place and\nsang:\n\n  Climb, whitlow-grass, thy willow-mast!\n  O where art thou? Yet sleeping fast?\n  Thou wast not wont to enter last:\n    Up, lower plants preceding!\n\nAnd all the willow-branches were filled forthwith with the yellow\nflowers of the whitlow-grass, which nodded gladly to the crocuses and\nsnowdrops. And Spring sang again:\n\n  Dear fresh spurge-laurel, briskly grow!\n  Thou, whose keen lance with fiery glow\n  Would burst the lap of the cold snow,\n    Come forth: obey my pleading!\n\nThere stood the spurge-laurel, like a bright-red birch-rod ready for\nuse on Ash Wednesday. But Spring pulled the lower branches of the bush\naside and bent still more deeply towards the ground and sang more\nsoftly than ever:\n\n  Thou of all symbols, dearest yet,\n  My true, my lovely violet!\n  Soon sun will burn, soon rain will wet:\n    Be ready, no call needing!\n\nAnd the violet shot up its broad green leaves from the ground to show\nSpring that it was ready.\n\nThen the mist floated out over the valley. No one could see where it\ncame from, but it came and remained for many a long day.\n\nThey were strange, silent days. Everywhere, everything oozed and\nbubbled and rustled and seethed in the ground; and there was not a\nsound besides. Noiselessly, the mist glided over the hills and into\nthe woods and hung heavy dew-drops on every single twig. And the\ndew-drops dripped and fell from morn till eve and from eve till morn.\n\n_So_ thick was the mist that the river was hidden in it, till one could\nonly hear it flow. And the hills were hidden and the woods, till one\nsaw nothing but the outside trees and even that only as shadows against\nthe damp, grey wall of mist.\n\nBut where the mist was thickest there was Spring. And the thicker the\nmist grew the brighter shone Spring\u2019s green garb. And, all the time\nthat the water oozed and the dew-drops dripped and the river flowed,\nSpring sang:\n\n  Softly slipping,\n  Little drop, go dripping, dripping!\n\nBut up in the mountains lay the Prince of Winter and lurked. He saw how\nthe snow melted and disappeared; he saw the flowers come and could do\nnothing to prevent it. The snow melted right up in the mountains; and\nhe felt that it would become a bad business indeed if he did not put a\nstop to it.\n\nSo he stole down to the valley in the darkness of the night; and, next\nmorning, there was ice on the puddles and the mist lay beaten down\nupon the meadow in sparkling hoar-frost.\n\nBut, when the young Prince of Spring saw this, he only laughed:\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s no use,\u201d he said.\n\nThen he raised his young face to the sky and called:\n\n\u201cSun! Sun!\u201d\n\nAnd the sun appeared.\n\nThe clouds parted at once; and the sun melted the ice and the\nhoar-frost. Then he hid again behind the clouds. The mist floated over\nthe hills anew, everything oozed and bubbled and rustled and dripped.\nThe snowdrop and the crocus and the willow-wood blossomed that it was a\njoy to see; and the violet cautiously stuck its buds above ground.\n\n\u201cNow all is well!\u201d said Spring.\n\nAnd, as he spoke, a sprightly wind came darting over the hills.\n\nIt shook the dew-drops from the boughs of the trees, till they fell\nto the ground in a splashing rain. Then it fluttered through the old\ndry grass in the meadow, crested the waves of the river and scattered\nthe mist in no time. Then it set about drying the wet ground and drove\nthe clouds over the mountains. There they remained hanging and hid the\nangry face of Winter. But, day after day, the sun rode in a bright blue\nsky; and it grew warm in the valley.\n\nThen the violet burst forth. It hid bashfully among its broad green\nleaves, but its scent spread wide over the meadow. And Spring plucked\nat the strings of his lute and sang till the valley rang again:\n\n  In azure now out of grey mist grew\n  My own sweet violet, shy and blue,\n    With eyes of smiling sunshine\n  And tears of diamond dew.\n\nAnd, when Spring had sung _that_ song--and it rang to the top of\nthe mountain, to the bottom of the river, to the very ends of the\nvalley--then everything came on at about the same time and at a pace\nthat can hardly be described.\n\nAt night, the valley was full of sound. But none could hear it whose\nheart was not full of green boughs. For it was the sound of buds\nbursting, little green sheaths unrolling, twigs stretching, flowers\nopening, scent spreading and grass growing.\n\nBy day, it was sometimes sunshine and sometimes rain, but always good.\nAnd what happened then could be seen by any one who had eyes to see\nwith.\n\nFirst, the ground in the wood became quite white with anemones. So\nwhite did it all become that the Prince of Winter, who was peeping down\nthrough a rift in the clouds, thought for a moment that there was snow.\nHe was gladder than he had been since February. But, when he saw his\nmistake, he stole into the wood one night, for the last time, and bit\nin two the necks of all the flowers that he could.\n\nBut a thousand new ones came for every one that died. And in the midst\nof the anemones stood the larkspur and the lungwort, which had blue and\nred flowers, to suit your fancy; the star of Bethlehem, which was a\nbright golden-yellow, but modest nevertheless; the wood-sorrel, which\nwas so delicate that it withered if you but touched it; the cowslip;\nand the speedwell, which was small enough, but very blue and proud as\nLucifer.\n\nThe meadow got itself a brand-new grass carpet, ornamented with yellow\npatches of buttercups and dandelions. Along the ditches it was bordered\nwith dear little cuckoo-flowers and out towards the river it had a\nfringe of rushes that grew broader and thicker day by day. Below, from\nthe bottom of the lake, sprang the water-lily\u2019s thick stalks, vying one\nwith the other who should reach the surface first; and the frogs, who\nhad been sitting in the mud and moping all through the winter, crawled\nout and stretched their hindlegs and swam up and uttered their first\n\u201cQuack! Quack!\u201d in such a way that you could not have helped feeling\ntouched.\n\nBut the crows and the sparrows and the chaffinches, who had spent the\nwinter down in the valley, raised so great a hubbub that it seemed as\nthough they had taken leave of their senses. They ran round the meadow\nand pecked at the soft ground and nibbled at the grass, though they\nknew quite well that it would disagree with them. They flapped their\nwings and shouted, \u201cHurrah for Spring!\u201d in a way that showed they meant\nit. The tit was there too and the wren, small as she was. For they had\nbeen there all the time, like the others, and fared just as hard.\n\nAnd the crow simply did not know which leg to stand upon. He started\na croaking-match with his old woman, with whom he had lived the year\nbefore and all through the winter and with whom, since last February,\nhe had had a great quarrel about a dead stickleback. The sparrow sat\ndown beside _his_ missus, stuck his nose in the air and sang as though\nhe were the nightingale himself. The tit was perfectly delirious with\nspring. He shut his eyes and told his mate the maddest stories about\ndelicious worms and big, fat flies that flew right down your throat\nwithout your having to stir a wing. And Mr. Chaffinch got himself a\ngrand new red shirt-front, which made Mrs. Chaffinch nearly swoon away\nwith admiration. But the wren, whose husband had died of hunger at\nChristmas, preened and polished her feathers so that she might be taken\nfor the young and lively widow that she was.\n\nAnd the Prince of Spring laughed and nodded kindly to them:\n\n\u201cYou are a smart lot, one and all of you,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd you have gone\nthrough trouble and deserve a happy day. But now I must get hold of my\nown birds.\u201d\n\nHe turned to the South and clapped his hands and sang:\n\n  Come, sweet lark and siskin small,\n    Blackcap, do not dally!\n  Swallow, thrush, come one, come all!\n    Spring is in the valley.\n\n  Up and down fly all day through,\n    Fear no wintry shadow!\n  Earth is green and heaven is blue,\n    Flowers spring in the meadow.\n\n  Singing, piping, hasten here!\n    Come, each tuneful darling!\n  Come from far and come from near,\n    Lapwing, stork and starling!\n\nThen the air hummed with the beat of a thousand wings and the army of\nbirds of passage fell like a host upon the valley. Each night the air\nwas vocal with the passing of the birds; and in the morning there was\nno end to the twittering.\n\nThere sat the starling and whistled in his black dress-coat, with all\nthe orders on his breast. The swallow swept through the air; siskin\nand linnet, nightingale and blackcap hopped about in the copsewood.\nThe reed-warbler struck his trills in the rushes along the river-banks\nso touchingly that one could weep to hear it, the thrush took the deep\nnotes and the goldfinch the high ones, the cuckoo ventured upon his\nfirst call and the lapwing sat on his mound and swaggered. But the\nstork walked in the meadow and never vouchsafed a smile.\n\nMeanwhile, the whole wood had come out, but the leaves were still\nsmall, so that the sun was able to peep down at the anemones. Lilies of\nthe valley distilled their fragrance for dainty nostrils and woodruffs\ntheirs for noses of the humbler sort. The green flowers of the beech\ndangled from the new thin twigs; cherry and blackthorn were white from\ntop to toe; valerian and star of Bethlehem and lousewort did their\nbest. The shepherd\u2019s pouch, that blossomed the whole year round, was\nannoyed that no one took any notice of it, but the orchis stood and\nlooked mysterious and uncanny, because it had such strange tubers in\nthe ground.\n\nFar in the beech-thicket, where it was greenest and prettiest, sat\na lovesick siskin and courted his sweetheart, who hopped on a twig\nbeside him and looked as if she simply could not understand what he was\ndriving at.\n\nHe sang:\n\n  If only, love, thou wilt be mine,\n    If now my singing heard is,\n  A nest I\u2019ll give thee soft and fine\n    With four delightful birdies.\n\n  Where rows of beech a glade enfold,\n    We\u2019ll build with toil and trembling;\n  Our birdies shall have beaks of gold,\n    Their Daddy much resembling.\n\n  To thee I\u2019ll prove both true and kind,\n    While bonds of love secure thee;\n  Of flies such multitudes I\u2019ll find\n    As no words could ensure thee.\n\n  At dawn of day I labour will,\n    The nest shall be thy keeping;\n  Each night, when sunset seeks the hill,\n    I\u2019ll serenade thee sleeping.\n\nWhen he had sung his ditty to the end, he looked hard at her and, as\nshe did not answer him at once, he gave her a sound peck with his beak.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t do that!\u201d she said.\n\nBut, when he ceased pecking at her and raised his wings, as though he\nmeant to fly away, she hastened to sing:\n\n  Yes, I will be thy own dear love,\n    Of bairns we\u2019ll prate together;\n  With few would I have flown, dear love;\n    So preen a prouder feather!\n\nThen they flew singing through the wood. And they were hardly gone\nbefore two other birds came and sat on the same twig and sang the same\nthing in another manner.\n\nBut the leaves of the beech grew and there came more and more. They\ngathered closer and closer over the wood and, one fine day, it was\nquite impossible for the sun to find a hole to peep through.\n\nThen the anemones became seriously frightened:\n\n\u201cShine on us, Sun, or we shall die!\u201d they cried.\n\nThey cried to the wind to sweep the horrid leaves away, so that the sun\ncould see his own dear little anemones. They cried to the beech that\nit ought to be ashamed of itself, great, strong tree that it was, for\nwishing to kill innocent flowers. They cried to Spring to help them in\ntheir distress.\n\nBut the sun did not see them and Spring did not hear them and the beech\ntook no heed of them and the wind laughed at them. There was such\ngladness in the valley that it drowned their voices; and they died\nquite unnoticed.\n\nEvery single day, new flowers came which were radiant and fragrant.\nEvery single day, the birds discovered a new trill to add to their\nsong. The stag belled in the glade, before even the sun was up, and\nthe hind answered and sprang. Every second, the fish leapt in the\nwater; and there was no end to the croaking of the frogs in the ditch.\nThe snake wriggled along the edge of the brook and made play with his\ntongue; in every hedge sat small brown mice exchanging amorous looks.\nEven the flies buzzed more fondly than usual.\n\nBut, when the gladness was at its highest, the young Prince of Spring\nstood at the top of the valley, where the mountains enclose it towards\nthe North. He looked out over his kingdom. His eyes were moist and\ndreamy, his mouth was ever smiling. He loosened from his shoulder the\ngreen silk ribbon in which his lute was slung, plucked once more at the\nstrings and hummed to its accompaniment. It was a beautiful, hazy day,\na day on which the birds subdued their songs and the flowers closed\ntheir petals.\n\nAnd Spring bowed over a little blue flower that sprouted at his foot\nand sang, sadly:\n\n  Forget-me-not blue,\n    Thou dreamy one,\n    Thou charming one,\n    Thou sweet one!\n\nThen he went northwards. And, wherever he set his foot, the snow\nmelted and the flowers burst forth.\n\nBut, when he had come to the last place from which he could see the\nvalley, he turned round.\n\nAnd far away towards the South, where the valley runs into the plain,\nstood the Prince of Summer, tall and straight. His face and his hands\nwere brown with the sun, his eyes gentle and warm as the sun. Over his\nshoulder he wore a purple cloak, around his loins a golden girdle. In\nthe girdle was a wonderful red rose.\n\nThen Spring bowed low and went away over the mountains.\n\n\n\n\nSUMMER\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nSUMMER\n\n  _Now bosky darkness grows.\n  The gradual summer-light bestows\n    Faint star-light on each hollow._\n\n\nNone had noticed Spring\u2019s farewell or Summer\u2019s coming.\n\nThe birds sang and the flies buzzed. The gnats danced up and down in\nthe air, till the swallow broke up the ball; the flowers smelt sweet,\nthe frogs croaked, the stag belled in the glade. There was no end to\nthe universal gladness.\n\nAnd, while the mountains were still turning green wherever Spring had\nset his foot, right up to Winter\u2019s eternal snows on the peaks, the\nPrince of Summer stood for a time and surveyed the kingdom which Spring\nhad quitted.\n\nHis form sent forth so sunny a radiance that it grew hotter in the\nvalley than it ever had been. His eyes shone, his purple cloak beamed,\nthe golden girdle around his loins blazed like fire, the red rose in\nhis girdle glowed.\n\nWhen he had stood a while, he raised his hand, as though he would bid\nthem be still. But none heeded him. The siskin hopped in the thicket\nwith his sweetheart, gave her loving looks and pecked at her with his\nbeak. The fish sported merrily in the water, the meadow displayed all\nits glories and the wood stood lost in green dreams.\n\nThe Prince of Summer smiled and raised his hand once more. When this\nhad no effect, he knitted his brows and his face darkened.\n\nAnd, at that moment, a veil passed over the sun. From east and west,\nthick clouds came slowly over the hills, thicker and blacker than the\nvalley had yet seen and with strange, thick edges. From the clouds\nrolled the thunder, distant and muffled, but such that none could doubt\nits power.\n\nThe clouds came nearer and it grew ever darker, but no less hot for\nthat. Inside the wood, it was as though it were evening. The wind\ntook fright and ran away behind the hills and subsided. The air was\nsingularly close and heavy. The leaves of the trees hung slack, as\nthough they were sick, and the flowers hastened to shut their petals.\nNo one knew what became of the flies, but they were gone. The little\nbrown mice forgot their amorous nonsense and sat in their parlours and\nsqueaked. The stag took shelter behind the thickest bushes; the croak\nof the frogs stuck in their throats and they went down to the bottom as\nif Winter were at the door. The birds looked round under the leafage\nand stared with frightened eyes.\n\nAnd the Prince of Summer was no longer all light and sunshine.\nGradually, as the clouds closed up, the radiance that flowed from him\nwas extinguished. At last, he stood at the end of the valley like a\nmighty black cloud in a warrior\u2019s form.\n\nThen there suddenly came a humming over the hills till every breath of\nwind had left them altogether. The trees bent low in great dismay; the\nriver rose and leapt away like a horse that rears and shies.\n\nThen it sounded as if a thousand light feet were running over the\nground: it was the first rain-drops coming. The next moment, the rain\npoured down till every sound was drowned in its splashing.\n\nThere came a terrible lightning, which made everything visible, but\nwhich dazzled all eyes, so that they could not see. Then came the\nblackest darkness and then the thunder, till the mountains shook again.\n\nBut through the thunder sounded Summer\u2019s accents; and never had any\nheard so loud a voice:\n\n\u201cIt is I, Summer, who am come to reign over the land. Mine is the\nthunder that roars over the valley. Hark!... The echo rolls from the\nmountains; the earth rumbles under my foot: it is Summer coming.\u201d\n\nThe thunder ceased, but the rain kept on pouring. And through the rain\nspoke Summer\u2019s accents; and never had any heard so soft a voice:\n\n\u201cIt is I, Summer, who am come to reign over the land. All that is green\nshall be greener still; all that is fair shall be a thousand-fold\nfairer. The scent of the flower shall be sweeter yet; and the sound\nof the bird\u2019s trill shall be deeper and fuller. The days shall break\nearlier in the East and be lighter and warmer; the nights shall be cool\nand still; and there shall be no end to the joy of the morning nor to\nthe evening\u2019s peace.\u201d\n\nWhen the Prince of Summer had spoken, while all things in the valley\nbowed and listened and understood, the thunder ceased and the rain fell\nno longer.\n\nTall and straight and radiant, Summer advanced through his kingdom.\n\nAnd, wherever he came, the clouds parted and vanished east and west\nbehind the hills. The sky grew clear again and the drops of water that\nhung on every twig and every blade of grass glistened in the sunlight.\nThe flowers opened, the birds came out from under the leafage, the\nstag left his cover and plunged his muzzle into the wet grass.\n\nBut, when the last cloud was gone and the sun had dried up the last\ndrop of water and every single trace of the storm was removed,\nnevertheless things were nowhere the same as they were before the\nthunder passed over the valley.\n\nMore flowers came and new flowers; and their scent was sweeter and\ntheir colour brighter, even as the Prince of Summer had said. But it\nwas as though they had all become more serious. They no longer swung\nso carelessly on their stalks, no longer scattered their scent so\nlavishly to every wind. But, when a bee or a butterfly came flitting\nup, all the flowers stretched their necks and shed a redoubled radiance\nand fragrance and cried their honey aloud, so that the insects might\ncome along and take their pollen-ware.\n\nNor did the bees themselves have so good a time as in the green days\nof Spring. At home, in the hive, their queen was laying eggs by the\nhundred; and they had to sweat wax and build cells and fetch honey\nand pollen, till they were nigh dying with exhaustion. And there were\nso many flowers that the bees did not know where to turn. In the\nwood, they got drunk on the sweet scent of the linden-blossom and\nthe honeysuckle; beside the brook, they fluttered plump into the red\ncap of the poppy. Not one of them was man enough to say no to those\nflower-cups: the thistle and the burdock, the dandelion and the wild\nchamomile, all kept them hard at work. Did they come to the hedge, the\nelderberry called them; would they rest in the grass, the bindweed\noffered them its chalice with fresh dew-drops on the edge and honey at\nthe bottom; did they fly across the lake, the water-lily lay with her\nwhite and yellow blossoms and nodded on the silent waters.\n\nAnd even as with the flowers and the bees, so it was everywhere. Not\nanywhere were things as they had been.\n\nHowever many trills the siskin struck for his sweetheart, however\nfondly he put his head upon one side, however eagerly he pecked at her\nwith his beak, she minded not a jot, but stared silently and seriously\nbefore her:\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s that nest,\u201d she said, at last.\n\n\u201cOf course, of course,\u201d replied the siskin and looked as though he had\nnever thought of anything else.\n\n\u201cYes, but it\u2019s _urgent_!\u201d said she. \u201cWe shall have the eggs before the\nweek is out.\u201d\n\nThen they found a place where they felt like building and together they\nset to work.\n\nBut, wherever they hopped after a twig for which they had a use,\nalready other birds were hopping on the same errand and, wherever they\nflew after a feather in the air, they had to hurry, lest another should\nsnatch it first. If he got hold of a lovely long horsehair, there would\nnever fail to be some one pulling at the other end; and, if she flew\nout for some nice moss which she had noticed the day before, she could\nbe sure that her fair neighbour had been to fetch it that morning. For\nevery young couple in the wood was out after furniture and fittings.\n\nAt last, the two siskins got their house built; and the other birds\ndid the same. There was not in the wood a bush so poor but it carried\na nest in its bosom. In every nest lay eggs; and on the eggs sat a\nsmart little bird-wife looking round watchfully with her black eyes\nand boring herself most wretchedly. Every moment, her husband would\ncome home with a fly or a worm or some other good nourishing food, as\nhe had promised and as his duty bade him. When evening came, all the\nbird-husbands sat faithfully on the edge of the nest and sang, each\nwith his little beak, so touchingly and prettily that their wives\nthought it delightful to be alive.\n\nBut up in the tall trees the crow-wives sat on their eggs; and on the\ncliffs the eagles\u2019 consorts lay brooding.\n\nEverywhere they were busy preparing for the babies; but not everywhere\nwas there so pretty a family-life as in the bushes in the wood.\n\nTrue, Mrs. Fox had her hole deep down in the hillside, where her\nyoungsters lay as snug as in their grandmother\u2019s chest of drawers. But\nthe timid hare dropped her young ones in the ditch and had no notion\nwhere their unnatural father was gobbling his evening cabbage.\n\nAnd the cuckoo flew round restlessly and slipped his eggs stealthily\ninto the others\u2019 nests and cried most bitterly because he could never,\nnever build a home for himself. Nor was the snail much better off; for\nshe could do no more than make a hole in the ground, put her eggs into\nit and commend them to Providence.\n\nThe little brown mice had their parlours full of tiny, blind children,\nwho could never wish for kinder or more thoughtful parents. But Goody\nMole, down in the earth, had to eat her own dirty husband as soon\nas she had had her babies, lest _he_ should eat the little innocents\nfor his lunch. And the gnat-husbands danced heedlessly in the evening\nair, as though they had nothing better to do, while their respective\nspouses, in great affliction, laid their eggs in the water.\n\nBut the brown frog sat by the ditch-side and wrung her hands in\nspeechless horror at the strange tadpole-children which she had brought\ninto the world.\n\nAnd the sun shone and the rain fell on those who were comfortable\nindoors and on those who had to take things as they came. Goody Mole\nworked for two, like the decent widow that she was; and the hare\nsuckled her young so that they might gain strength quickly and leap\naway from the eagle and the fox. The cuckoo uttered his sorrowful note\namong the tall trunks of the forest; and Mother Gnat let her eggs sail\nthe pond for themselves, since that was all that she could do for them,\nafter which she settled in the stag\u2019s ear and helped herself to a drop\nof blood to repay her for her exertions.\n\nBut the Prince of Summer was with them all. He knew of the smallest\ngnat and forgot not a flower in the meadow:\n\n\u201cIt is well!\u201d he said.\n\nAnd, every day that passed, his purple cloak beamed, the golden girdle\naround his loins blazed, the red rose in his girdle glowed.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThen it happened that a shocking cry rang out through the forest. It\nwas so loud that everything around grew silent and all listened to hear\nwhat it could be.\n\nThe one who had uttered the cry was an old, gnarled oak who stood among\na crowd of fine young beeches:\n\n\u201cPrince of Summer, come to my aid!\u201d he shouted. \u201cDon\u2019t you see that\nthe beeches are stifling me? Before you have made your entry twice more\ninto the valley, I shall be dead and buried under their shade.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see it,\u201d said Summer, calmly.\n\n\u201cYou see it?\u201d cried the oak and wrung his old branches in despair. \u201cYou\nsee it and you don\u2019t help me? Woe is me, to have a prince like you!\nThen Spring indeed was a different sort of gracious lord and king.\nThere was not in the forest a stick so dry but he readily gave it a\ngreen leaf or two.\u201d\n\nBut the Prince of Summer looked with indifference at the old, dying oak:\n\n\u201cI was never responsible for Spring\u2019s green promises,\u201d he replied. \u201cI\nreign here according to my own law, and the law ordains that you shall\ndie. What do I want with a fagot like you in my healthy forests?\u201d\n\nThen he turned to the beeches and said:\n\n\u201cI gave you strength to grow. I give you twofold strength and tenfold.\nHasten and put that old gentleman to rest!\u201d\n\nAnd the beeches shot up aloft and threw their shade over the oak till\nhe died.\n\nBut there were others besides the oak that made their complaints to the\nPrince of Summer. Every day and every hour of the day there was one\nthat threw up the sponge and shrieked for help.\n\nThere was the grass, which cried because the stag ate it.\n\n\u201cI made your number as the sand of the sea,\u201d said the Prince of Summer.\n\u201cI gave you hardiness and a quick growth; I gave you the wind to carry\nyour seed across the meadows. For you I have done enough.\u201d\n\nAnd there was the stag, who bellowed because the best grass was gone.\nTo him the Prince of Summer said:\n\n\u201cI gave you swift legs, so that you could bound where the grass is\ngreenest in the forest. If your legs are tired, then lay you down to\ndie; and the hind\u2019s fawns shall walk in your footsteps.\u201d\n\nThere were the fish in the river, who ate one another\u2019s eggs and young\nand then blamed Summer.\n\n\u201cWhat would you have me do?\u201d asked Summer. \u201cI gave you power to lay a\nthousand eggs and a thousand more and a thousand besides. However many\nmay die, there will always be fish in the river.\u201d\n\nAnd there were the flowers that sighed because there were not bees\nenough to carry off their pollen. But the Prince of Summer said:\n\n\u201cI presented you with honey to give to the bees for a messenger\u2019s fee\nand taught you to hide it so that they must take your pollen into the\nbargain. I gave you delicious perfumes and beautiful colours wherewith\nto entice the bees. You call them and they come; and the one that\npromises most and keeps its promise best is the one they obey most\nquickly.\u201d\n\nBut, every time that Summer spoke, there was a new one that wailed:\n\n\u201cThere are too few worms!\u201d cried the siskin, who now had four\nyoungsters in the nest and was wearing himself to a skeleton in the\neffort to provide food for them. \u201cWe are starving. We can never hold\nout!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are too many birds!\u201d whined the worm in the mould. \u201cIf one but\nstirs out for a moment, one is eaten up.\u201d\n\n\u201cDeliver us from the stork!\u201d prayed the frogs.\n\n\u201cProvide more frogs,\u201d cried the stork, \u201cor I shall have to go\nelsewhere!\u201d\n\nAnd the beech complained because the cockchafer ate its leaves; and the\ncrows could never get cockchafers enough. The bees whined about the\nflowers, as the flowers had done about the bees: they considered that\nit was much too hard to get hold of the honey. The hare ran away from\nthe fox and fell into the talons of the eagle. The young ash in the\nhedge raised his voice to heaven against the honeysuckle that twined\nitself right up to his top.\n\nBut the Prince of Summer stood tall and straight and radiant and\nsurveyed his kingdom. His smile was wide and bright and there was no\npity in his hard eyes. He raised his hand, as though to bid them be\nsilent, but none heeded him; and the noise increased hourly and the\nland was full of cries and lamentations.\n\nThen he knitted his brows and called the thick black clouds from behind\nthe hills. They came at his beck; fear lay over the valley again; and\nthe cries were silenced. The thunder rolled till the mountains shook,\nthe lightning flamed, the rain poured.\n\nAnd Summer\u2019s great voice sounded through the air:\n\n\u201cKnow you not that I am a lord as stern as Winter, whom you hate? He\nreigns over death, as I do over life. I will be obeyed, like him;\nlike him, I crush whatever resists me. You thought I was a minstrel\nlike Spring, who sang you to life and longing and went off over the\nmountains. But I am greater than Spring. For I satisfied your desires\nwith food and made you subject to the law of life. But the law is this,\nthat that which is hale shall stand, but that which is sick shall\nfall. Therefore I made my days long, that you should become green and\ngrow. Therefore I gave you strength and power in a thousand ways,\nthe smallest gnat as well as the tallest tree in the forest, so that\nyou should fight and grow up. Therefore I gave you children, so that\nyou should never perish. And whoso obeys my law and well employs the\nday, upon him the sunlight of my eyes shall fall. His strength shall\nreign, his children shall bear his name throughout the ages. But whoso\nflinches, he shall die.\u201d\n\nThe Prince of Summer was silent and the thunder rolled away slowly over\nthe mountains. The clouds parted and vanished; it became night. The\nstars shone bright and friendly, the trees dripped and all was still.\n\nBut, next morning, the valley awoke to fiercer fighting and louder\ncries than ever.\n\nFor there was not a bird in the forest nor a flower in the meadow but\nhad heard what the Prince of Summer said and understood it. They all\nknew what it meant and armed themselves, before sunrise, for the fight\nfor life.\n\nThe siskin and his wife hunted twice as eagerly in the thicket; the\nlittle brown mice dug twice as diligently; the flowers redoubled their\nradiance and their fragrance. Goody Mole rummaged the ground in every\ndirection; the stag found a meadow where the grass stood high and\ngreen. The beech put forth new twigs in the place of those which the\ncockchafers had eaten; and the ash stretched its bows right through the\nhoneysuckle to show Summer that it was alive.\n\nThousands died, but none heard their death-moan, because of the din\nthat arose from the fight of the living. And it was as though more\nlives came for each life that was extinguished.\n\nThe siskin\u2019s youngsters hopped out of the nest and fell from the branch\nand fluttered up again. The crow\u2019s children screamed in the tree-tops;\nthe young eagles flew from the rock to try their wings. The starling\ndrove her first brood from the nest and laid new eggs; the frog lived\nto see her degenerate young grow quite respectable before she herself\nwas swallowed by the stork.\n\nNever had the fish swarmed so thickly in the river, never had the\nbeech\u2019s leaves been so broad, never had the copsewood been so dense,\nnever had the flowers pressed so close together in the hedge.\n\nAnd the Prince of Summer stood amidst his kingdom taller and straighter\nand more radiant than ever:\n\n\u201cIt is well!\u201d he said.\n\nThen evening came. The crows flew home from their debating-club in the\nold, dead oak; the little birds in the thicket sang their evensong in\nchorus, but made it short, for they were very tired. The flowers shut\ntheir petals; the bees closed the door of their hive. The moth flew\nout on her soft, grey wings. The stars peeped out, ever more and ever\nlarger.\n\nCarefully, the mist raised its head and spied and listened. And,\nwhen all was still, it welled forth, white and grey and billowy and\nnoiseless. Now it lay quiet and dreamed, now it danced its queer dances\nover the meads. It peeped into the wood, where the lime-tree was\nshedding its perfume; it glided down to the river, which ran and ran\nand was swallowed up in the darkness.\n\nBut, suddenly, from the edge of the wood, a long and jubilant trill\nrang out over the valley:\n\n  Weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet!\n\nThe mist stopped and listened. The stag raised his head in the meadow,\nthe birds opened their sleepy eyes and answered with a little chirp.\n\n  Weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet!\n\nIt was the nightingale, who sang:\n\n  Now bosky darkness grows.\n  The gradual summer-night bestows\n    Faint star-light on each hollow.\n    The merry little swallow\n  Has hied him to repose.\n  Weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet!\n  While now the moon through Heaven sails\n  And all is still, blithe nightingales\n    With hedgerow music follow.\n\n  Weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet-a ... weet!\n  In sleepy clusters gleaming,\n    White elders sigh, red roses start,\n  Forget-me-nots lie dreaming.\n    They dream of summer all night long\n    Whose splendour thrills that joyous song\n  In mellow sweetness streaming\n    From the green thicket\u2019s heart....\n\n\n\n\nAUTUMN\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nAUTUMN\n\n  _The loveliest things of Autumn\u2019s pack\n    In his mottled coffers lay:\n  Red mountain-berries,\n  Hips sweet as cherries,\n  Sloes blue and black\n    He hung upon every spray._\n\n\nOn the top of the hills in the West stood the Prince of Autumn and\nsurveyed the land with his serious eyes.\n\nHis hair and beard were dashed with grey and there were wrinkles on his\nforehead. But he was good to look at still and straight and strong.\nHis splendid cloak gleamed red and green and brown and yellow and\nflapped in the wind. In his hand he held his horn.\n\nHe smiled sadly and stood a while and listened to the fighting and the\nsinging and the cries. Then he raised his head, put the horn to his\nmouth and blew a lusty flourish:\n\n  Summer goes his all-prospering way,\n    Autumn\u2019s horn is calling.\n  Heather dresses the brown hill-clay,\n  Winds whip crackling across the bay,\n    Leaves in the grove keep falling.\n\nAll the trees of the forest shook from root to top, themselves not\nknowing why. All the birds fell silent together. The stag in the glade\nraised his antlers in surprise and listened. The poppy\u2019s scarlet petals\nflew before the wind.\n\nBut high on the mountains and on the bare hills and low down in the\nbog, the heather burst forth and blazed purple and glorious in the\nsun. And the bees flew from the faded flowers of the meadow and hid\nthemselves in the heather-fields.\n\nBut Autumn put his horn to his mouth again and blew:\n\n  Autumn lords it with banners bright\n    Of garish leaves held o\u2019er him,\n  Quelling Summer\u2019s eternal fight,\n  Heralding Winter, wild and white,\n    While the blithe birds flee before him.\n\nThe Prince of Summer stopped where he stood in the valley and raised\nhis eyes to the hills in the West. And the Prince of Autumn took the\nhorn from his mouth and bowed low before him.\n\n\u201cWelcome!\u201d said Summer.\n\nHe took a step towards him and no more, as befits one who is the\ngreater. But the Prince of Autumn came down over the hills and again\nbowed low.\n\nThey walked through the valley hand in hand. And so radiant was Summer\nthat, wherever they passed, none was aware of Autumn\u2019s presence. The\nnotes of his horn died away in the air; and one and all recovered from\nthe shudder that had passed over them. The trees and birds and flowers\ncame to themselves again and whispered and sang and fought. The river\nflowed, the rushes murmured, the bees continued their summer orgy in\nthe heather.\n\nBut, wherever the princes stopped on their progress through the valley,\nit came about that the foliage turned yellow on the side where Autumn\nwas. A little leaf fell from its stalk and fluttered away and dropped\nat his feet. The nightingale ceased singing, though it was eventide;\nthe cuckoo was silent and flapped restlessly through the woods; the\nstork stretched himself in his nest and looked towards the South.\n\nBut the princes took no heed.\n\n\u201cWelcome!\u201d said Summer again. \u201cDo you remember your promise?\u201d\n\n\u201cI remember,\u201d answered Autumn.\n\nThe Prince of Summer stopped and looked out over the kingdom where the\nnoise was gradually subsiding:\n\n\u201cDo you hear them?\u201d he asked. \u201cThey must die and they do not know it.\nNow do you take them into your gentle keeping.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall bring your produce home,\u201d said Autumn. \u201cI shall watch\ncarefully over them that dream, I shall cover up lovingly them that are\nto sleep in the mould. I will warn them thrice of Winter\u2019s coming.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is well,\u201d said Summer.\n\nThey walked in silence for a time, while night came forth.\n\n\u201cThe honeysuckle\u2019s petals fell when you blew your horn,\u201d said Summer.\n\u201cSome of my children will die at the moment when I leave the valley.\nBut the nightingale and the cuckoo and the stork I shall take with me.\u201d\n\nAgain the two princes walked in silence. It was quite still; only the\nowls hooted in the old dead oak.\n\n\u201cYou must send my birds after me,\u201d said Summer.\n\n\u201cI shall not forget,\u201d replied Autumn.\n\nThen the Prince of Summer raised his hand in farewell and bade Autumn\ntake possession of the kingdom:\n\n\u201cI shall go to-night,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd none will know save you. My\nsplendour will linger in the valley for a while, so that you may come\nmore gently to those to whom you bring death. And by-and-by, when I am\nfar away and my reign is forgotten, the memory of me will revive once\nmore with the sun and the pleasant days.\u201d\n\nThen he strode away in the night.\n\nBut from the high tree-top came the stork on his long wings; and the\ncuckoo fluttered out of the tall woods; and the nightingale flew from\nthe thicket with his full-grown young.\n\nThe air was filled with the soft murmuring of wings.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Siskin couple sat and chatted on the edge of the empty nest:\n\n\u201cDo you remember the day when I courted you?\u201d he asked. \u201cI had preened\nand smartened myself as best I could and you also looked sweet. The\nbeech had just come out: I never saw the wood so green in all my life!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow you sang!\u201d said she. \u201cSing like that again; then perhaps I will\naccept you once more.\u201d\n\nBut the siskin sadly shook his head:\n\n\u201cMy voice is gone,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cDo you remember when we built the nest?\u201d she asked, a little later.\n\u201cHow snug it was and how nice! I shall never have so fine a house\nagain. Just look how ugly and dilapidated it is!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe young ones did that,\u201d he replied.\n\n\u201cYes, but do you remember the morning when they came out of the eggs?\u201d\nshe asked; and her small black eyes beamed. \u201cHow sweet they were and\nhow naked and brown! I could not leave them for a minute but they\nscreamed.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd then they got their feathers!\u201d he said and strutted. \u201cGrand\nsiskins, all four of them. Do you remember the day they first hopped\nout of the nest?\u201d\n\nShe remembered. She remembered many more things and reminded him of\nthem all. And, when there was nothing left to say, they moved closer to\neach other and sat silent; and each apart thought of the old days.\n\nAnd all the others were like the siskins.\n\nThe flowers bent towards one another and whispered about the golden\ntime when they stood with a bee in every chalice. So eager were they to\ntell their stories that none could wait for the other to finish. All\nover the meadow, it sounded:\n\n\u201cDo you remember...? Do you remember...?\u201d\n\nThe flies and the bees sat for half the day and idled and talked\nintimately and cosily of the beautiful summer days when they hummed and\nbuzzed and reigned in the meadow. The trees waved their branches softly\nto one another and told long stories of their green youth. The rushes\nput their brown tips together and dreamt the whole thing over again.\nThe little brown mice sat in the hedge, in the evening sun, and told\nthe children the story of their courtship.\n\n\u201cDo you remember...? Do you remember...?\u201d\n\nIn the midst of the valley stood the Prince of Autumn, with his horn in\nhis hand. But none saw him.\n\nThen the crow flew out of the wood on flapping wings and screamed:\n\n\u201cPast! Past! How can you care to talk of those old things? It\u2019s all\npast! Past! Past!\u201d\n\nEcho sang from the hills:\n\n\u201cPast! Past! Past!\u201d\n\nAnd Echo whispered in the rushes and hummed in the river and sounded\nin all that lived in the land. They all then and there understood\nthat summer was over. They stopped in the middle of their stories and\nlistened and chimed in:\n\n\u201cPast! Past! Past!\u201d\n\nAnd suddenly they all saw the Prince of Autumn, as he stood there\nin the midst of them, in his motley cloak. They stared at him with\nfrightened eyes and at one another.\n\nBut he put his horn to his mouth and blew till it rang over the valley:\n\n  Autumn\u2019s horn blew a lusty chime,\n  For the first time, for the first time!\n    Interpret well its warning:\n  September night,\n  Breed mushrooms white,\n  Lay midge in mould,\n  Plait bronze with gold\n    For green tree-tops\u2019 adorning.\n\nHe looked over the valley with his serious eyes. But, when the last\necho of the notes had died away, he spread his motley cloak in the sun\nand laughed and nodded.\n\nAnd, while the sky was higher than it had ever been and the air mild\nand the lake blue and the mountains stood out clear on the horizon, the\nland passed dutifully under Autumn\u2019s dominion.\n\nIt had indeed begun on the night when Summer went away, with a yellow\nleaf here and a brown leaf there, but none had noticed it. Now it went\nat a quicker pace; and, as time wore on, there came ever more colours\nand greater splendour.\n\nThe lime-trees turned bright yellow and the beech bronze, but the\nelder-tree even blacker than it had been. The bell-flower rang with\nwhite bells, where it used to ring with blue, and the chestnut-tree\nblessed all the world with its five yellow fingers. The mountain-ash\nshed its leaves that all might admire its pretty berries; the wild rose\nnodded with a hundred hips; the Virginia creeper broke over the hedge\nin blazing flames.\n\nThe moss grew soft and green; and the toadstools shot up in the night.\nQueer, soft, pale creatures they were and poisonous and envious they\nlooked. But some of them had a scarlet hat on and all were overjoyed\nwith life.\n\nBut the siskin could find no flies and was wailing pitifully.\n\n\u201cThen go away!\u201d said the Prince of Autumn. \u201cYour time is over; and I\nhave plenty of birds left.\u201d\n\nAway flew siskin and linnet and many with them. But Autumn put his horn\nto his mouth and blew:\n\n  The loveliest things of Autumn\u2019s pack\n    In his motley coffers lay:\n  Red mountain-berries,\n  Hips sweet as cherries,\n  Sloes blue and black,\n    He hung upon every spray.\n\nAnd blackbird and thrush chattered blithely in the copsewood, which\ngleamed with berries, and a thousand sparrows kept them company.\n\nAt night, it was quite still. The stag went into the meadow with\nnoiseless steps and lifted his antlers and reconnoitred. The bird sat\nand slept somewhere with his head under his wing; the wind dared hardly\nwhisper among the faded foliage. The stars twinkled far and peacefully.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThen the leaves fell.\n\nAnd, as they broke from the branches and whirled through the air and\nfell to the ground, they sighed softly and filled the forest with\nstrange, plaintive sounds. But none could hear them who had not seen\nhis own hopes die.\n\nBut, next morning, those which were left gleamed brighter still and\nspread themselves and laughed in the sun, as if they had never amused\nthemselves so well. The birch stood flirting on the moor; and the tiny\nlittle plants in the hedge sported their red leaves. The beech and the\noak changed one thing or another in their dress each day, till they\nbecame more fantastic than ever. The falling leaves flew from tree to\ntree and remained lying there, till the whole at last became one great\nconfusion.\n\nBut redder than the reddest blazed the Virginia creeper; and the crows\nmade such a din every evening in the old, dead oak that you could not\nhear yourself speak. The thrushes chattered, the sparrows screamed, the\nwind ran from one to the other and puffed and panted to add to the fun.\nHigh up in the sky, the sun looked gently down upon it all.\n\nAnd the Prince of Autumn nodded contentedly and let his motley cloak\nflap in the wind:\n\n\u201cI am the least important of the four seasons and am scarcely lord in\nmy own land,\u201d he said. \u201cI serve two jealous masters and have to please\nthem both. But my power extends so far, that I can give you a few glad\ndays.\u201d\n\nThen he put his horn to his mouth and blew:\n\n  To the valley revellers hie!\n    They are clad in autumnal fancy-dresses,\n    They are weary of green and faded tresses\n  Summer has vanished, Winter is nigh--\n    Hey fol-de-rol-day for Autumn!\n\n  The beech wears a coat of red,\n    The oak grows feeble, his strength is shaken,\n    Summer\u2019s fine birds the Devil has taken!\n  The bees are excused, the flies are dead--\n    Hey fol-re-rol-day for Autumn!\n\n  The birch that was ever shy.\n    Stands--look!--in her yellow smock unbidden,\n    With scarcely a white, lank limb that\u2019s hidden!\n  Green pines straddle towards the sky--\n    Hey fol-re-rol-day for Autumn!\n\nBut, just as the gaiety was at its height and the land full of noise,\nexactly as in the fairest days of summer ... there were two that\nmistook the time of year!\n\nIt was the cherry-tree for one and the strawberry-plant for another.\n\nThey felt the sun shining so very warm and saw how everything rejoiced.\nThen they forgot themselves and burst forth anew. Carefully, they\nopened their white flowers and shivered at once, for it was colder than\nthey had thought.\n\nAnd, when the dainty white blossoms spread in the morning sun, all the\nmotley trees of the wood laughed them to scorn. The crows fell off the\nbranches with laughter, the sparrows shrieked: one and all considered\nit the best notion they had ever seen. But a belated bee opened six\nthousand great eyes and had an apoplectic fit, because she thought she\nhad taken leave of her senses.\n\nThe Prince of Autumn looked at the flowers with moist eyes and shook\nhis head:\n\n\u201cYou poor little ninnies!\u201d he said, sadly.\n\nBut the Virginia creeper flung her warm red arms around them and said\nthat they were sweet.\n\nThe blossoms thrived and grew; and one of them even put forth a tiny\ngreen berry. And, when the others saw that, they gave up laughing\nand began to think about it. The alder looked itself up and down and\nreflected that it still was quite green; and the birch was nearly\nsinking into the ground for shame at its nakedness. The old frog\nsuddenly said, \u201cQuack!\u201d and was so startled at this that she plunged\nhead foremost to the bottom of the lake. The sparrow suddenly felt\nlonely and looked round fondly among the daughters of the land.\n\nBut the beech shook up a heap of brown leaves and clung convulsively to\nthose which were green:\n\n\u201cIt _may_ be possible,\u201d it said to itself and, then and there, put out\nthree new shoots.\n\nBut, the night after this happened, there was a tremendous disturbance\nup on the mountain-peaks, where the eternal snows had lain both in\nSpring\u2019s time and Summer\u2019s. It sounded like a storm approaching. The\ntrees grew frightened, the crows were silent, the wind held its breath.\n\nThe Prince of Autumn bent forward and listened:\n\n\u201cIs that the worst you can do?\u201d shouted a hoarse voice through the\ndarkness.\n\nAutumn raised his head and looked straight into Winter\u2019s great, cold\neyes.\n\n\u201cHave you forgotten the bargain?\u201d asked Winter.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied Autumn. \u201cI have not forgotten it. But, if they must die,\nat least give them leave to dance.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave a care!\u201d shouted Winter.\n\nThe whole night through, it rumbled and tumbled in the mountains. It\nturned so bitterly cold that the starling thought seriously of packing\nup; and even the red creeper turned pale. When the sun rose, the\ncherry-blossoms and strawberry-blossoms hung dead upon their stalks.\n\nThe distant peaks glittered with new snow.\n\nAnd the Prince of Autumn laughed no more. He looked out earnestly over\nthe land and the wrinkles in his forehead grew deeper:\n\n\u201cIt must be so then!\u201d he said.\n\nThen he blew his horn:\n\n  Autumn\u2019s horn blew a lusty chime;\n  For the second time, for the second time!\n    Heed well the call, complying:\n  Fling seed to earth!\n  Fill sack\u2019s full girth!\n  Plump back and side!\n  Pad belt and hide!\n    Hold all wings close for flying!\n\nThen suddenly a terrible bustle arose in the land. For now they all\nunderstood that fortune was on the ebb; and all thought that there was\nsomething they had forgotten or something they were not ready with.\n\nRound about the thicket, the bushes shouted aloud:\n\n\u201cBuy my hips! Who\u2019ll buy?\u201d\n\n\u201cService-berries! Service-berries! Fine red service-berries!\u201d\n\n\u201cBlackberries! Fresh blackberries!\u201d\n\n\u201cSloes! Sloes! Sloes!\u201d\n\nAnd the thrush and the blackbird swept down upon them and gorged\nthemselves with the good berries till they were well provided for their\njourney. The sparrows ate all they could get down; the crows drove the\nothers away and guzzled.\n\n\u201cQuick!\u201d said Autumn. \u201cRemove that finery!\u201d\n\nThe poppy and the bell-flower and the pink stood thin and dry as\nsticks, with their heads full of seed. The dandelion had presented each\none of his seeds with a sweet little parachute.\n\n\u201cCome, dear Wind, and shake us!\u201d said the poppy.\n\n\u201cFly away with my seeds, Wind!\u201d said the dandelion.\n\nAnd the wind hastened to do as they asked.\n\nBut the beech cunningly dropped his shaggy fruit on to the hare\u2019s fur;\nand the fox got one also on _his_ red coat. Thus they carried the\nbeech\u2019s children out into the world without having the least suspicion\nwhat they were doing.\n\n\u201cQuick, now!\u201d said Autumn. \u201cThere\u2019s no time here to waste.\u201d\n\nThe little brown mice filled their parlours from floor to ceiling with\nnuts and beech-mast and acorns. The hedgehog had already eaten himself\nso fat that he could hardly lower his quills, but still loitered\naround all night to get more food. The hare and the fox and the stag\nput on clean white woollen things under their coats. The starling and\nthe thrush and the blackbird saw to their downy clothing and exercised\ntheir wings for the long journey. The sparrows were envious that they\ncould not go too; as for the crows, nothing seemed to hurt them; and\nthe lapwing sat on his tussock and looked lonely.\n\nBut the bat went right away and hung himself on his own hindlegs deep\ndown in a hollow tree.\n\n\u201cQuick!\u201d said Autumn. \u201cIt will be over in a week.\u201d\n\nThe sun hid himself behind the clouds and did not appear for many days.\n\nIt began to rain. The wind quickened its pace: it dashed the rain over\nthe meadow, whipped the river into foam and whistled uncannily through\nthe trunks in the forest. The leaves fell without ceasing.\n\n\u201cNow the song is finished!\u201d said the Prince of Autumn.\n\nThen he put his horn to his mouth and blew:\n\n  Autumn\u2019s horn blew a lusty chime,\n  For the last time, for the last time!\n    Ways close when need is sorest:\n  Land-birds, fly clear!\n  Plunge, frogs, in mere!\n  Bee, lock your lair!\n  Take shelter, bear!\n    Fall, last leaf in the forest!\n\nAnd then it was over.\n\nIt all went at such a rate that one could hardly tell how it began or\nhow it ended.\n\nThe birds flew from the land in flocks. The starling and the lapwing,\nthe thrush and the blackbird all migrated to the South. Every night,\nthe sparrow heard their chirping and the fluttering of their wings in\nthe air.\n\nEvery morning, before the sun rose, the wind tore through the forest\nand pulled the last leaves off the trees. Every day, the wind blew\nstronger, snapped great branches, swept the withered leaves together\ninto heaps, scattered them again and, at last, laid them like a soft,\nthick carpet over the whole floor of the forest. Here and there, a\nsingle leaf hung on a twig and resisted and refused to die. But this\nwas only a short respite, for, if it did not fall to-day, it fell\nto-morrow.\n\nThe hedgehog crawled so far into a hole under a heap of stones that he\nremained caught between two of them and could move neither forwards nor\nbackwards. The sparrow took lodgings in a deserted swallow\u2019s-nest; the\nfrogs went to the bottom of the pond for good, settled in the mud,\nwith the tips of their noses up in the water, and prepared for whatever\nmight come. The waves loosened the water-lily\u2019s stalks and washed them\nclean away; the rushes snapped in the storm and drifted with the stream.\n\nThe Prince of Autumn stood and gazed over the land to see if it was\nbare and waste, so that Winter\u2019s storms might come buffeting at will\nand the snow lie where it pleased.\n\nAnd so empty was it that the sun rose later, morning after morning, and\nwent earlier to bed, evening after evening, because he did not think\nthat he had anything to shine upon.\n\n\u201cNow I\u2019m coming!\u201d roared Winter from the mountains. \u201cMy clouds are\nbursting with snow; and my storms are breaking loose.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have one day left,\u201d said Autumn.\n\nHe walked across the meadow, where already the grass was yellow and the\nflowers gone, except the little white daisy, which can never get done\nin time. Then he went into the naked wood. He peeped at the hedgehog,\nsmiled at the little brown mice, who carried the shells neatly and\ndecently outside the parlour each time they had had a nut-feast, patted\nthe strong beech-trunks and asked them if they could stand the storm\nand nodded to the jolly crows.\n\nThen he stopped before the old, dead oak and looked at the ivy that\nclambered right up to the top and spread her green leaves as if Winter\nhad no existence at all.\n\nAnd, while he looked at it with eyes that were gentle and moist like\nSpring\u2019s, the ivy-flowers blossomed. They sat right at the top and\nrocked in the wind, yellow-green and insignificant, but just as good\nflowers as any of those which grew in Summer\u2019s kingdom.\n\n\u201cNow I can restrain my storms no longer!\u201d roared Winter.\n\nThe Prince of Autumn bent his head and listened. He could hear the\nstorm come rushing down over the mountains. A snowflake fell upon his\nmotley cloak ... and another ... and yet another....\n\nFor the last time, he put his horn to his mouth and blew in sad and\nsubdued tones:\n\n  Thou greenest plant and tardiest,\n  Thou fairest, rarest, hardiest,\n    Bright through unending hours!\n  Round Summer, Winter, Autumn, Spring,\n  Thy vigorous embraces cling.\n  Look! Ivy mine, \u2019tis _I_ who sing,\n    \u2019Tis _Autumn_ wins thy flowers!\n\nThen he went away in the storm.\n\n\n\n\nWINTER\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nWINTER\n\n  _Wee snow-birds, white snow-birds,\n  White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,\n    Through fields skim along!_\n\n\nWinter was on the mountains, but his face was hidden by thick clouds\nthat lay in wait, ready to burst and let loose all the evil that was in\nthem.\n\nNow and again, the clouds parted a little. But that was only for a\nmoment; and, when it happened, the snow-clad peaks glittered in the sun\ntill you could look at nothing else and could hardly bear to look at\nthem. And, even when the storm flew wildest over the valley and the\nriver foamed and the trees cracked and broke and fell, even then the\nclouds lay thick and close before the face of Winter.\n\nSometimes, some of them dissolved into mists, which swept down upon\nthe valley and filled it quite. But they were different mists from\nthose which Spring laid over the land. No violets came from _them_; in\n_their_ lap were no crops and no longing and no life. They were as cold\nas if there were no sun at all behind them.\n\nSometimes, it rained, in a dense and endless downpour, day after day.\nThe blast dashed the rain into the eyes of the hare and the stag, till\nthey had to hide where best they could and turn their tails to the\nwind. The little brown mice could hardly put their noses outside their\ndoor; and the sparrows sat rumpled and disconsolate under the leafless\nbushes. But the crows rocked undaunted on the tallest twigs and held\ntheir beaks straight to the wind, so that it should not blow up under\ntheir feathers.\n\nSometimes, it snowed as well. But it was a stupid, sluggish snow, which\nmelted the moment that it touched the ground.\n\nAt night, the wind hooted in the mountain-clefts and the owl in the\nwood. The withered leaves ran round and rustled like ghosts. The boughs\nof the trees swayed sadly to and fro, to and fro.\n\nAnd, whether it snowed or rained or only misted, whether it were day or\nnight, the valley lay ever in a horrid sludge and just as many clouds\nhung lurking in the mountains. The withered blades of grass eddied\nhopelessly in the meadow. The waves flowed bleak and cold in the river.\n\nThen, one night, it froze.\n\nThe slush on the ground hardened into a thin crust, which the stag\nstuck his hoof through, but the hare ran safely across it. The\nhedgehog shivered in his dreams, the ivy-flowers faded, the puddles got\nice upon them.\n\nAnd, next morning early, a thin layer of snow fell over the land. The\nsun shone again, but far and cold; and the clouds drifted away.\n\nThe Prince of Winter sat on the mountains: an old man, with white hair\nand beard. His naked breast was shaggy, shaggy his legs and hands. He\nlooked strong and wild, with cold stern eyes.\n\nBut he was not angry, as when Spring drove him from the valley and\nwhen Autumn did not go quickly enough. He looked out over the kingdom\ncalmly, for now he knew that it was his. And, when he found anything\ndead or empty or desolate, he plucked at his great white beard and gave\na harsh and satisfied laugh.\n\nBut all that lived in the land was struck with terror when it looked\ninto his cold eyes.\n\nThe trees shook in their thick bark and the bushes struck their\nbranches together in consternation. The mouse became quite snow-blind,\nwhen she peeped outside the door; the stag looked mournfully over the\nwhite meadow:\n\n\u201cMy muzzle can still break through the ice, when I drink,\u201d he said. \u201cI\ncan still scrape the snow to one side and find a tuft of grass. But, if\nthings go on like this for another week, then it\u2019s all up with me.\u201d\n\nThe crows and the chaffinch and the sparrow and the tit had quite lost\ntheir voices. They thought of the other birds, who had departed in\ntime, and knew not where to turn in their distress. At last, they set\nout in a row to carry their humble greeting to the new lord of the land:\n\n\u201cHere come your birds, O mightiest of all princes!\u201d said the crow and\nstood and marked time in the white snow. \u201cThe others left the country\nas soon as you announced your coming, but we have remained to submit us\nto your sway. Now be a gracious lord to us and grant us food.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe bow before Your Highness!\u201d said the chaffinch.\n\n\u201cWe have so longed for you!\u201d said the tit and put his head on one side.\n\nAnd the sparrow said the same as the others, in a tone of deep respect.\n\nBut the Prince of Winter laughed at them disdainfully:\n\n\u201cHa, you time-serving birds!\u201d he said. \u201cNow you fawn upon _me_. In\nSummer\u2019s time, you amused yourselves merrily; in Autumn\u2019s you ate\nyourselves stout and fat; and, as soon as Spring strikes up, you will\ndance to his piping like the others. I hate you and your screaming and\nsqualling and the trees you hop about in. You are all here to defy me;\nand I shall do for you if I can.\u201d\n\nThen he rose in all his strength:\n\n\u201cI have my own birds and now you shall see them.\u201d\n\nHe clapped his hands and sang:\n\n  Wee snow-birds, white snow-birds,\n  White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,\n    Through fields skim along!\n  To jubilant Spring I grudge music of no birds,\n    To Summer no song.\n  Come, Winter\u2019s mute messengers, swift birds and slow birds,\n  White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,\n    Till the valley be soft as down for your nesting\n  Of numberless ice-eggs by frosty rims spanned!\n    Now rushing, now resting,\n  White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,\n  Skim soft through the land!\n\nAnd Winter\u2019s birds came.\n\nSuddenly, it darkened and the air became full of little black specks,\nwhich descended and turned into great white snowflakes. They fell over\nthe ground, more and more, in an endless multitude; all white and\nsilent, they lay side by side and layer upon layer. The carpet over the\nland grew ever thicker.\n\nThe crows and the others took shelter in the forest, while the snow\nfell, and gazed dejectedly over the valley. There was now not a blade\nof grass, nor yet a stone to be seen: everything was smooth and soft\nand white. Only the trees stood out high in the air; and the river\nflowed through the meadow, black with anger.\n\n\u201cI know how to crush _you_!\u201d said the Prince of Winter.\n\nAnd, when evening came, he told the wind to go down. Then the waves\nbecame small and still, Winter stared at them with his cold eyes and\nthe ice built its bridge from bank to bank. In vain the waves tried to\nhum Spring\u2019s song. There was no strength in their voices. In vain they\ncalled upon Summer\u2019s sun and Autumn\u2019s cool breezes. There was none that\nheard their complaint; and they had to submit to the yoke.\n\nNext morning, there was nothing left of the river but a narrow channel;\nand, when one more night had passed, the bridge was finished. Again the\nPrince of Winter called for his white birds; and soon the carpet was\ndrawn over the river, till it was no longer possible to see where land\nbegan and water ended.\n\nBut the trees strutted ever so boldly out of the deep snow; and the\ncrows screamed in their tops. The firs and pines had kept all their\nleaves and were so green that it was quite shocking to behold. Wherever\nthey stood, they acted as a protection against the frost and a shelter\nagainst the snow; and the chaffinch and the other small birds found a\nhospitable refuge under their roofs.\n\nThe Prince of Winter looked at them angrily:\n\n\u201cIf I could but cow you, if I could but break you!\u201d he said. \u201cYou defy\nme and you irritate me. You stand in the midst of my kingdom keeping\nguard for Summer and you give shelter to the confounded screechers and\nscreamers who disturb the peace of my land. My ice cannot penetrate to\nyour pith and kill you. If I had only snow enough to bury you, so that,\nat least, you did not offend my eyes!\u201d\n\nBut the trees stood strong under Winter\u2019s wrath and waved their long\nbranches:\n\n\u201cYou have taken from us what you can,\u201d they said. \u201cFarther than that\nyour power does not go. We will wait calmly for better times.\u201d\n\nWhen they had said this, Winter suddenly set eyes upon tiny little\nbuds round about the twigs. He saw the walnut\u2019s spikes, that smacked\nof spring. He saw the little brown mice trip out for a run in the\nsnow and disappear again into their snug parlours before his eyes. He\ndistinctly heard the hedgehog snoring in the hedge; and the crows kept\non screaming in his ears. Through his own ice, he saw the noses of the\nfrogs stick up from the bottom of the pond.\n\nHe was seized with frenzy:\n\n\u201cDo I dream or am I awake?\u201d he shouted and tore at his beard with both\nhands. \u201cAre they making a fool of me? Am I the master or not?\u201d\n\nHe heard the anemones breathe peacefully and lightly in the mould,\nhe heard thousands of grubs bore deep into the wood of the trees as\ncheerfully and imperturbably as though Summer were in the land. He saw\nthe bees crawl about in their busy hive and share the honey they had\ncollected in summer and have a happy time. He saw the bat in the hollow\ntree, the worm deep down in the ground; and, wherever he turned, he saw\nmillions of eggs and grubs and chrysalids, well guarded and waiting\nconfidently for him to go away.\n\nThen he leapt down into the valley and raised his clenched fists\nto heaven. His white hair and beard streamed in the wind, his lips\ntrembled, his eyes glittered like ice.\n\nHe stamped on the ground and sang in his loud, hoarse voice:\n\n  Roar forth, mine anger, roar and rouse\n    What breathes below earth\u2019s girder!\n  By thousands slay them--bird and mouse,\n  And fish and frog and leaf and louse!\n  In deadly fog the valley souse!\n  Build me a royal pleasure-house\n  Of ice and snow, where storms carouse\n    With Death and Cold and Murder!\n\nHe shouted it over the land.\n\nThe ice broke and split into long cracks. It sounded like thunder from\nthe bottom of the river. It darkened, as when Summer\u2019s thunder-storms\nused to gather over the valley, but worse still, for then you could\nperceive that it would all pass by, but now there was no hope to be\nseen.\n\nThen the storm broke loose.\n\nThe gale roared so that you could hear the trees fall crashing in the\nforest. The ice was split in two and the huge floes heaped up into\ntowering icebergs, while the water froze together again at once. The\nfrost bit as deep into the ground as it could go and bit to death every\nliving thing that it found in the mould. The snow fell and drifted over\nmeadow and hill; sky and earth were blended into one.\n\nThis lasted for many days; and those were hard times.\n\nThe sparrows did not know at last if they were alive or dead; the crows\ncrept into the pine-forest, silent with hunger and fear. The stag\nhad not found a single tuft of grass for two days past and now leapt\nbelling through the wood, tortured with starvation. The mice crept\ntogether in their parlours and froze; the chaffinch froze to death; the\nhare lay dead in the meadow; the fox ate the hare\u2019s remains and was\nvery thankful to do so.\n\nAnd, when the weather subsided at last, things were not a whit better.\n\nIt was more piercingly cold than ever. The snow lay all around in huge\ndrifts; and, where the snow had been blown away, the ground was hard\nas stone. Every single puddle was frozen to the bottom; the lake was\nfrozen, the river was frozen; and the stag had to swallow snow to slake\nhis thirst.\n\nWant reigned on every side.\n\nThe hedgehog had shrunk until there was room for two in the hole which\nwas once too small for him. The crows fought like mad, if they found\nas much as an old shrivelled berry forgotten in the bushes. The fox\nskulked about with an empty stomach and evil eyes. But the little brown\nmice discovered with dismay that they were nearly come to the bottom\nof their store-room, for they had eaten very hard to keep warm in the\nbad days.\n\nThe Prince of Winter stood in the valley and looked upon all this with\ncontent. He went into the forest, where the snow was frozen to windward\nright up to the tops of the smooth beech-trunks; but on the boughs of\nthe fir-trees it lay so thick that they were weighed right down to the\nground.\n\n\u201cYou may be Summer\u2019s servants,\u201d he said, scornfully, \u201cbut still you\nhave to resign yourselves to wearing my livery. And now the sun shall\nshine on you; and I will have a glorious day after my own heart.\u201d\n\nHe bade the sun come out; and he came.\n\nHe rode over a bright blue sky; and all that was still alive in the\nvalley raised itself towards him and looked to him for warmth. There\nwas a yearning and a sighing deep in the ground and deep in the forest\nand deep in the river:\n\n\u201cCall Spring back to the valley! Give us Summer again! We are yearning!\nWe are yearning!\u201d\n\nBut the sun had but a cold smile in answer to their prayers. He gleamed\nupon the hoar-frost, but could not melt it; he stared down at the snow,\nbut could not thaw it.\n\nThe valley lay dead and silent under its white winding-sheet. Scarcely\neven the crows screamed in the forest.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s how I like to see the land,\u201d said Winter.\n\nAnd the day came to an end, a short, sorry day, swallowed up helplessly\nin the great, stern night, in which a thousand stars shone cold over\nthe earth. The snow creaked under the tread of the stag; the sparrow\nchirped with hunger in his sleep. The ice thundered and split into huge\ncracks.\n\nThe Prince of Winter sat on his mountain throne again and surveyed his\nkingdom and was glad. His great, cold eyes stared, while he growled in\nhis beard:\n\n  Proud of speech and hard of hand,\n    A cruel lord to follow,\n  Winter locks up sea and land,\n    Blocks up every hollow.\n\n  Summer coaxes, sweet and bland,\n    Flowers in soft vigour;\n  At Winter\u2019s harsh and grim command,\n    They die of ruthless rigour.\n\n  Short and cold is Winter\u2019s day,\n    Long and worse night\u2019s hours;\n  Few birds languish in his pay\n    And yet fewer flowers.\n\nThe days wore on and Winter reigned over the land.\n\nThe little brown mice had eaten their last nut and were at their wits\u2019\nend as to the future. The hedgehog was reduced to skin and bone; the\ncrows were nearly giving in. The river lay dead under the ice.\n\nThen suddenly there came the sound of singing:\n\n  Play up! Play soon!\n  Keep time! Keep tune!\n    Ye wavelets blue and tender!\n  Keep time! Keep tune!\n  Burst ice and rime\n    In equinoctial splendour!\n\nUp leapt Winter and stared with his hand over his brows.\n\nDown below in the valley stood the Prince of Spring, young and\nstraight, in his green garb, with the lute slung over his shoulder. His\nlong hair waved in the wind, his face was soft and round, his mouth\nwas ever smiling, his eyes were dreamy and moist.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SECOND MEETING\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE SECOND MEETING\n\n  _A thousand centuries ran as fast\n  As runs one day of gladness past\n    And how that is none knoweth._\n\n\nA hundred thousand years passed, one like the other, and the day came\nwhen the princes were to meet again, as arranged, and to hear from one\nanother how things had gone.\n\nThey went to the meeting-place in the darkness of the night and sat\ndown separately where they had sat before, in a circle, each on his\nmountain. When the sun rose, he shone upon the four great lords in all\ntheir might and splendour.\n\nAnd Summer\u2019s purple cloak beamed and the golden belt round his loins\nand the rose in his belt. Spring sat in his green garb and plucked at\nthe strings of his lute and hummed to it. Autumn\u2019s motley cloak flapped\nin the wind. The snow on Winter\u2019s mountain sparkled like diamonds.\n\nSummer\u2019s eyes and Winter\u2019s met for the first time after many years. The\nsweat sprang to Winter\u2019s brow; Summer shivered and wrapped himself in\nhis cloak. They were both equally strong and equally proud; the eyes\nof the one were as gentle as the other\u2019s were cold and stern. They\nlooked angrily at each other, bitter, irreconcilable enemies as before.\n\nAnd Spring and Autumn sat just opposite each other, as on that day long\nsince; and their eyes met like Winter\u2019s and Summer\u2019s, for they neither\nhad seen each other during the years that passed. And Spring\u2019s glance\nwas just as moist and dreamy and young and Autumn\u2019s just as sad and\nserious.\n\nThe princes sat like that for a while. Then they all rose and bowed\nlow, but Spring and Autumn bowed lower than the others, as befits those\nwho are the lesser. And, when they were seated again, each on his\nmountain, Autumn turned his serious eyes to Summer and asked:\n\n\u201cDid I keep the covenant we made?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat you did,\u201d said Summer. \u201cYou brought my produce home; I thank you\nfor it.\u201d\n\nBut Autumn turned to Winter and asked:\n\n\u201cAnd did I do what I promised you? Did I make your bed? Did I make room\non the earth for your storms and your frost?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou did,\u201d replied Winter, bluntly. \u201cBut you always left the valley\ntoo late.\u201d\n\nSpring raised his young face towards the Prince of Summer and asked:\n\n\u201cDid I spread your cloth as I promised? Did I release the water from\nthe yoke of the ice, did I rid the earth of its frozen crust? Did I\ndrape the green woods for your coming?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, you did,\u201d replied Summer, kindly. \u201cAnd I owe you my thanks.\u201d\n\nBut Winter shook his fist at green Spring and shouted:\n\n\u201cYou always came too soon, you rascal! I never got my snows thoroughly\nemptied, my storms had never blown themselves out, before you were\nthere with your hurdy-gurdy.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did as I had to,\u201d replied Spring and smiled and plucked at the\nstrings of his lute.\n\nBut the Prince of Autumn rose and made three deep bows:\n\n\u201cThen our meeting was fortunate for the poor earth,\u201d he said. \u201cNow we\ncan part, never to meet again, and go our way over the land until the\nend of the world.\u201d\n\nThe Prince of Spring rose and bowed three times, as Autumn had done,\nand bound the lute over his shoulder. But Summer and Winter remained\nsitting and looked out before them, as if they had more on their minds;\nand, when Spring and Autumn saw this, they sat down again, each on his\nmountain, and waited respectfully.\n\nAnd, when this had lasted some time, Winter raised his white head and\nlooked from the one to the other. Then he said:\n\n\u201cNow I will say what we are all thinking.\u201d\n\nAutumn turned a questioning glance towards him; and Spring unfastened\nhis lute again and played and hummed. But the Prince of Summer nodded\nin assent.\n\n\u201cWe are princes by the grace of God,\u201d said Winter. \u201cWe have shared the\nearth among us by turns, according to agreement, so that each of us\nreigned for a quarter of the year. We have kept the covenant which we\nmade with one another, but the land is no longer ours.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true,\u201d said Summer.\n\n\u201cWe are no longer lords in the land,\u201d said Winter. \u201cMen have seized\nupon the power.\u201d\n\nThe Prince of Summer nodded once more; Autumn just bowed his head in\nassent; and Spring hummed his songs and looked out over the land as if\nhe were not even listening. But Winter continued:\n\n\u201cI know not whence they came. I daresay they are some of that vermin\nwhich Spring lures up from the mould with his playing and which Summer\nkeeps the life in. I do not know. But this I do know, that they are\nthere, swarming over the land and increasing year by year.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true,\u201d said Summer.\n\nThe Prince of Autumn nodded his head, but Spring went on playing and\nhumming.\n\n\u201cThat is how the matter stands,\u201d said Winter. \u201cAnd I cannot touch\nthem. They are too clever for me and they become more clever each time\nI see them anew. In vain I send my most piercing colds, my mightiest\nstorms against them. They have built houses in which they sit snug and\nsafe and allow the storms to rage. They light fires to keep themselves\nwarm and have made themselves thick woollen clothes for their bodies\nand limbs, their hands and feet. And even _that_ is not enough. The\nanimals they have a use for they take into their houses; the bushes\nthey want to protect they bind up in mats and straw. When I send my\nsnow down over the earth, till it lies right up to the roofs of their\nhouses, they shovel it away and make roads and paths right through it.\nWhen I bind the water with ice, they break the ice into pieces, if\n_that_ suits them, or else they put iron under their feet and skate\nover the ice and derive a pleasure from it into the bargain.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true,\u201d said Summer. \u201cMen have seized upon the power.\u201d\n\nBut the Prince of Winter was not yet done with his grievance:\n\n\u201cIt is men that rule the earth,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd they know it and tease\nand hinder me everywhere. To show their thorough contempt for me, they\nhave placed their greatest and most important festival in the very\nmidst of my reign. So brazen are they that they simply beg me for ice\nand snow for their \u2018Christmas\u2019!\u201d\n\n\u201cI know them too,\u201d said the Prince of Autumn. \u201cI cannot deny that they\nhave made themselves lords of the earth, even though they do me no\nparticular harm. But they are self-willed and they bring the crops home\nsometimes earlier and sometimes later than is right.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust so!\u201d shouted Winter. \u201cThat is why I cannot starve them to death,\nbecause they fill their barns in Autumn\u2019s time. If we kept together, we\ncould crush them.\u201d\n\nBut now Summer raised his voice:\n\n\u201cMen have the power,\u201d he said, \u201cand we can do nothing to prevent it.\nThey have become too many for us and too clever, as Winter has said. In\nthe beginning, I had nothing against them. They ran in the forest like\nmy other creatures and hunted and fought and bore their children under\nthe foliage. They obeyed the law of life, as I had laid it down, and I\ngranted that to them just as much as to the stag and the sparrow and\nthe worm.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe first time they saw me they wrapped themselves in skins and hid\nthemselves in holes,\u201d said Winter, angrily.\n\n\u201cThat was their right,\u201d replied Summer, calmly. \u201cEvery single being\nthat I have created seeks protection against your wickedness, if he\ncannot fly the land during your reign. But men are no longer what\nthey were. They no longer hunt freely and bravely in the wood. Their\ncolour has become pale, their arms weak, their hearts craven. For years\nat a time, their children are feeble and helpless. Men are wretched\ncreatures that deserve to die; and I would not say a word against it\nif Winter killed them all. For they do not reign because they are\nthe strongest, but because they have studied all the world\u2019s subtle\ncontrivances and devices. That is what gives them their power upon\nearth.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us extirpate them!\u201d roared Winter.\n\n\u201cWe cannot do that,\u201d replied the Prince of Summer. \u201cThey have adapted\nthe earth entirely to suit their own needs. They have exterminated some\nof my animals and plants, because these were of no use nor pleasure\nto them; others they have disseminated everywhere. And all that they\ntake into their service become weak and sickly like unto themselves,\ntied to them and dependent upon them, so that they can yield them the\nadvantages which they need, but are no longer allowed to lead the free\nlife for which they were created. I hate men, as the Prince of Winter\nhates them. But there is no remedy against their might.\u201d\n\nHe ceased speaking. The three princes stared despondently before them.\nBut Spring plucked gaily at the strings of his lute.\n\nThen Winter turned to him and said, roughly:\n\n\u201cYou are the only one that has not spoken. What harm do men do you?\u201d\n\n\u201cTell us!\u201d demanded Autumn.\n\n\u201cDo you hate them as we do?\u201d asked Summer.\n\nThe Prince of Spring raised his young face and looked at them as though\nhis thoughts were far away. Then he said: \u201cMen? They cause me no pain.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think that is one of your green lies,\u201d sneered Winter.\n\nBut Spring looked away before him with his moist and dreamy eyes,\nplucked harder at the strings and answered:\n\n\u201cSee, when I come to the valley and touch the strings of my lute and\nsing to it and the flowers spring up from the mould: then the wailing\nrelaxes in men\u2019s hearts even as in the cold ground. Then they sing and\nflourish and thrive and laugh; and love is kindled in their thoughts;\nand their souls rejoice.\u201d\n\nThe three looked at Spring in amazement, but he continued:\n\n\u201cThere was an old, old man, when last I came to the valley. His hair\nwas white and his eyes dim. His hands groped helplessly before him;\nand his legs could scarcely bear him. His daughter died in Summer\u2019s\npassionate hours; his sons dropped dead while gathering Autumn\u2019s crops.\nHis wife closed her eyes under your wrath, O mighty Winter! But, when\nI stood in the valley and plucked at the strings of my lute, suddenly\nhe straightened his crooked back and his eyes recovered their fire:\n\u2018The woods are turning green!\u2019 he said. And he went out and ran on his\nshaking legs after my flowers and listened to my song and joined with\nthe others in my green gladness.\u201d\n\nHe ceased. Not one of the three princes answered him. Long they sat\nsilent and looked out over the earth.\n\nAnd evening fell and night. The moon shone upon the snow-clad mountain,\nSummer\u2019s roses shed their scent, Autumn\u2019s motley cloak flapped in the\nwind, Spring plucked at the strings of his lute and hummed softly to\nits music.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next morning, the four princes rose in their splendour and their\nmight, bowed low to one another and strode slowly away over the earth.\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES:\n\n\n  Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.\n\n  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.\n\n  Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.","title":"The Four Seasons","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":18748}