The wind blew bleak from the stars.

At first there was dangerous climbing, and then Ackronnion gained the
smooth, broad steps that led from the edge to the lair, and at that
moment heard at the top of the steps the continuous chuckles of the
Gladsome Beast.

He feared then that its mirth might be insuperable, not to be saddened
by the most grievous song; nevertheless he did not turn back then, but
softly climbed the stairs and, placing the agate bowl upon a step,
struck up the chaunt called Dolorous. It told of desolate, regretted
things befallen happy cities long since in the prime of the world. It
told of how the gods and beasts and men had long ago loved beautiful
companions, and long ago in vain. It told of the golden host of happy
hopes, but not of their achieving. It told how Love scorned Death, but
told of Death's laughter. The contented chuckles of the Gladsome Beast
suddenly ceased in his lair. He rose and shook himself. He was still
unhappy. Ackronnion still sang on the chaunt called Dolorous. The
Gladsome Beast came mournfully up to him. Ackronnion ceased not for
the sake of his panic, but still sang on. He sang of the malignity of
time. Two tears welled large in the eyes of the Gladsome Beast.
Ackronnion moved the agate bowl to a suitable spot with his foot. He
sang of autumn and of passing away. The the beast wept as the frore
hills weep in the thaw, and the tears splashed big into the agate
bowl. Ackronnion desperately chaunted on; he told of the glad
unnoticed things men see and do not see again, of sunlight beheld
unheeded on faces now withered away. The bowl was full. Ackronnion was
desperate: the Beast was so close. Once he thought that its mouth was
watering!--but it was only the tears that had run on the lips of the
Beast. He felt as a morsel! The Beast was ceasing to weep! He sang of