“I also am called Love,” said he gently, “and I am called Joy.”
Angus Óg looked for the first time at Pan.
“Singer of the Vine,” said he, “I know your names-they are Desire and Fever and Lust and Death. Why have you come from your own place to spy upon my pastures and my quiet fields?”
Pan replied mildly.
“The mortal gods move by the Immortal Will, and, therefore, I am here.”
“And I am here,” said Angus.
“Give me a sign,” said Pan, “that I must go.”
Angus Óg lifted his hand and from without there came again the triumphant music of the birds.
“It is a sign,” said he, “the voice of Dana speaking in the air,” and, saying so, he made obeisance to the great mother.
Pan lifted his hand, and from afar there came the lowing of the cattle and the thin voices of the goats.