The splendour of an honoured name,
The mighty power of song.
These gifts are idle as the wind,
Tho’ by them thou art blest,
Unless thro’ seeking thou canst find
The gift we deem the best.”
Then all the faeries melted away in the thin moonshine, the blooming flowers vanished through the floor, the laurel wreath disappeared from the baby’s head, and Eldina almost thought that she had been dreaming.
She had not been dreaming, however, as she soon found out, for, as the years rolled by, and Lanis grew up into a tall, handsome boy, he became the wonder of the countryside, owing to his beautiful voice and his marvellous songs. Eldina had found a golden lyre left by the faeries when Lanis grew old enough to play it, and with this in his hand he was accustomed to wander about the country singing his lovely melodies. All the country folk used to make Lanis sing to them at their merrymakings, but when he lifted up his voice, the dancers would cease to dance, the talkers to chatter, and they would sit with awestruck faces listening to the wonderful stories he told them.
It was a curious thing that, in spite of what the faeries had said about not giving him the gift of happiness, the lad’s songs were of the most joyous description, and made the hearts of all rejoice. Eldina was delighted at this, as she thought Lanis would now be happy, in spite of the prophecy of the faeries, when at one merrymaking she heard an old man say,—
“Ah, he sings fine, no doubt; but he’ll sing better when his heart is broken.”