never be the same for so long as the days shall be, and this he
hath sworn by the oath of the gods of Pegana that the gods may
never break, laying his hand upon the shoulder of each of the gods
and swearing by the light behind Their eyes.

Limpang-Tung hath lured a melody out of the stream and stolen its
anthem from the forest; for him the wind hath cried in lonely places
and the ocean sung its dirges. There is music for Limpang-Tung in
the sounds of the moving of grass and in the voices of the people
that lament or in the cry of them that rejoice.

In an inner mountain land where none hath come he hath carved his
organ pipes out of the mountains, and there when the winds, his
servants, come in from all the world he maketh the melody of
Limpang-Tung. But the song, arising at night, goeth forth like a
river, winding through all the world, and here and there amid the
peoples of earth one heareth, and straightaway all that hath voice
to sing crieth aloud in music to his soul.

Or sometimes walking through the dusk with steps unheard by men,
in a form unseen by the people, Limpang-Tung goeth abroad, and,
standing behind the minstrels in cities of song, waveth his hands
above them to and fro, and the minstrels bend to their work, and
the voice of the music ariseth; and mirth and melody abound in
that city of song, and no one seeth Limpang-Tung as he standeth
behind the minstrels.

But through the mists towards morning, in the dark when the
minstrels sleep and mirth and melody have sunk to rest, Limpang-Tung
goeth back again to his mountain land.