Now, when the little ones sank, still sank, seeing naught, the lights of the spirit dancers began to break upon them, and they became, as be the ancients, ‘hlímna, and were numbered with them. And so, being received into the midst of the undying ancients, lo! these little ones thus made the way of dying and the path of the dead; for whither they led, in that olden time, others, fain to seek them (insomuch that they died), followed; and yet others followed these; and so it has continued to be even unto this day.
But the mothers, still crying, knew not this—knew not that their children had returned unharmed into the world whence even themselves had come and whither they too needs now must go, constrained thither by the yearnings of their own hearts in the time of mourning. Loudly, still, they wailed, on the farther shore of the river.
THE LOSS OF THE GREAT SOUTHERN CLANS.
The Seed clans arrived, and strove to cross the waters, but as it had chanced to the others so befel it all dismally with them, until loud became the commotion and multitudes of those behind, nearing—even many of the Midmost clans—turned and fled afar southward along the bank, seeking a better crossing; fled so far that they were lost to sight speedily and strayed never to return!
Nay, they became the fathers and mothers of our Lost Others—lost ever since that time.
THE SAVING OF THE FATHER-CLANS.
Lo! as the people were crying aloud and tossing their hands aloft and the many—so many!—were fleeing away, came the Beloved Twain, and with voices strong-sounding and sure, bade them cease from their clamor and terror, saying—
Look now, ye faithless and witless!
The mothers who love not their offspring
And cherish them not through all danger,