There was a tall young man in the dun who had yellow hair, and was
skilled in wrestling and in the training of horses; and one day when
the king walked in the orchard, which was between the foss and the
forest, he heard his voice among the salley bushes which hid the
waters of the foss. 'My blossom,' it said, 'I hate them for making
you weave these dingy feathers into your beautiful hair, and all that
the bird of prey upon the throne may sleep easy o' nights'; and then
the low, musical voice he loved answered: 'My hair is not beautiful
like yours; and now that I have plucked the feathers out of your hair
I will put my hands through it, thus, and thus, and thus; for it
casts no shadow of terror and darkness upon my heart.' Then the king
remembered many things that he had forgotten without understanding
them, doubtful words of his poets and his men of law, doubts that he
had reasoned away, his own continual solitude; and he called to the
lovers in a trembling voice. They came from among the salley bushes
and threw themselves at his feet and prayed for pardon, and he
stooped down and plucked the feathers out of the hair of the woman
and then turned away towards the dun without a word. He strode into
the hall of assembly, and having gathered his poets and his men of
law about him, stood upon the dais and spoke in a loud, clear voice:
'Men of law, why did you make me sin against the laws of Eri? Men of
verse, why did you make me sin against the secrecy of wisdom, for law
was made by man for the welfare of man, but wisdom the gods have
made, and no man shall live by its light, for it and the hail and the
rain and the thunder follow a way that is deadly to mortal things?
Men of law and men of verse, live according to your kind, and call
Eocha of the Hasty Mind to reign over you, for I set out to find my
kindred.
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