“And I have dreamed but an idle dream?” Art cried, with his heart breaking in a sob within him.
“Ay, for if Art you be, you have been dreaming a long dream upon the Hills of Ruel.”
But when Art, old now and weak, turned to go back to the honey-sweet folk upon the Hills of Ruel, so that he might dream his dream again, he heard Midir laughing, and he died.
“And that is all,” ended Isla abruptly, looking neither at Eilidh nor at me, and staring into the flame of the peats.
But Eilidh smiled no more to herself that night, and no more sang below her breath.
THE FISHER OF MEN
“But now I have grown nothing, being all,
And the whole world weighs down upon my heart.”
(Fergus and the Druid.)