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Morris, William, 1834-1896

"The Roots of the Mountains; Wherein Is Told Somewhat of the Lives of the Men of Burgdale"

How couldest thou think it, when the Fathers and the kindred
have made this body that thou lovest, and the voice of their songs is
in the speech thou deemest sweet?'
He said: 'Sweet friend, I deemed not that there was feigning in
thee: I was but wondering what I am and how I was fashioned, that I
should make thee so glad that thou couldst for a while forget thy
hope of the days before we met.'
She said: 'O how glad, how glad! Yet was I nought hapless. In
despite of all trouble I had no down-weighing grief, and I had the
hope of my people before me. Good were my days; but I knew not till
now how glad a child of man may be.'
Their words were hushed for a while amidst their caresses. Then she
said:
'Gold-mane, my friend, I mocked not my past self because I deem that
I was a fool then, but because I see now that all that my wisdom
could do, would have come about without my wisdom; and that thou,
deeming thyself something less than wise, didst accomplish the thing
I craved, and that which thou didst crave also; and withal wisdom
embraced thee, along with love.'
Therewith she cast her arms about him and said:
'O friend, I mock myself of this: that erst thou deemedst me a God
and fearedst me, but now thou seemest to me to be a God, and I fear
thee.


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