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Making the Team A Guide for Managers 6th Edition Thompson Test Bank
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Making the Team A Guide for Managers 6th Edition Thompson Test Bank
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CHAPTER IV
Autumn
The loveliestthings of Autumn’s pack
In his mottled coffers lay:
Red mountain-berries,
Hips sweet as cherries,
Sloes blue and black
He hung upon every spray.
On the top of the hills in the West stood the Prince of Autumn and
surveyed the land with his serious eyes.
His hair and beard were dashed with grey and there were wrinkles
on his forehead. But he was good to look at still and straight and
strong. His splendid cloak gleamed red and green and brown and
yellow and flapped in the wind. In his hand he held his horn.
He smiled sadly and stood a while and listened to the fighting and
the singing and the cries. Then he raised his head, put the horn to
his mouth and blew a lusty flourish:
Summer goes his all-prospering way,
Autumn’s horn is calling.
Heather dresses the brown hill-clay,
Winds whip crackling across the bay,
Leaves in the grove keep falling.
All the trees of the forest shook from root to top, themselves not
knowing why. All the birds fell silent together. The stag in the glade
raised his antlers in surprise and listened. The poppy’s scarlet petals
flew before the wind.
But high on the mountains and on the bare hills and low down in the
bog, the heather burst forth and blazed purple and glorious in the
19.
sun. And thebees flew from the faded flowers of the meadow and
hid themselves in the heather-fields.
But Autumn put his horn to his mouth again and blew:
Autumn lords it with banners bright
Of garish leaves held o’er him,
Quelling Summer’s eternal fight,
Heralding Winter, wild and white,
While the blithe birds flee before him.
The Prince of Summer stopped where he stood in the valley and
raised his eyes to the hills in the West. And the Prince of Autumn
took the horn from his mouth and bowed low before him.
“Welcome!” said Summer.
He took a step towards him and no more, as befits one who is the
greater. But the Prince of Autumn came down over the hills and
again bowed low.
They walked through the valley hand in hand. And so radiant was
Summer that, wherever they passed, none was aware of Autumn’s
presence. The notes of his horn died away in the air; and one and all
recovered from the shudder that had passed over them. The trees
and birds and flowers came to themselves again and whispered and
sang and fought. The river flowed, the rushes murmured, the bees
continued their summer orgy in the heather.
But, wherever the princes stopped on their progress through the
valley, it came about that the foliage turned yellow on the side
where Autumn was. A little leaf fell from its stalk and fluttered away
and dropped at his feet. The nightingale ceased singing, though it
was eventide; the cuckoo was silent and flapped restlessly through
the woods; the stork stretched himself in his nest and looked
towards the South.
But the princes took no heed.
“Welcome!” said Summer again. “Do you remember your promise?”
20.
“I remember,” answeredAutumn.
The Prince of Summer stopped and looked out over the kingdom
where the noise was gradually subsiding:
“Do you hear them?” he asked. “They must die and they do not
know it. Now do you take them into your gentle keeping.”
“I shall bring your produce home,” said Autumn. “I shall watch
carefully over them that dream, I shall cover up lovingly them that
are to sleep in the mould. I will warn them thrice of Winter’s
coming.”
“It is well,” said Summer.
They walked in silence for a time, while night came forth.
“The honeysuckle’s petals fell when you blew your horn,” said
Summer. “Some of my children will die at the moment when I leave
the valley. But the nightingale and the cuckoo and the stork I shall
take with me.”
Again the two princes walked in silence. It was quite still; only the
owls hooted in the old dead oak.
“You must send my birds after me,” said Summer.
“I shall not forget,” replied Autumn.
Then the Prince of Summer raised his hand in farewell and bade
Autumn take possession of the kingdom:
“I shall go to-night,” he said. “And none will know save you. My
splendour will linger in the valley for a while, so that you may come
more gently to those to whom you bring death. And by-and-by,
when I am far away and my reign is forgotten, the memory of me
will revive once more with the sun and the pleasant days.”
Then he strode away in the night.
But from the high tree-top came the stork on his long wings; and
the cuckoo fluttered out of the tall woods; and the nightingale flew
from the thicket with his full-grown young.
21.
The air wasfilled with the soft murmuring of wings.
The Siskin couple sat and chatted on the edge of the empty nest:
“Do you remember the day when I courted you?” he asked. “I had
preened and smartened myself as best I could and you also looked
sweet. The beech had just come out: I never saw the wood so green
in all my life!”
“How you sang!” said she. “Sing like that again; then perhaps I will
accept you once more.”
But the siskin sadly shook his head:
“My voice is gone,” he said.
“Do you remember when we built the nest?” she asked, a little later.
“How snug it was and how nice! I shall never have so fine a house
again. Just look how ugly and dilapidated it is!”
“The young ones did that,” he replied.
“Yes, but do you remember the morning when they came out of the
eggs?” she asked; and her small black eyes beamed. “How sweet
they were and how naked and brown! I could not leave them for a
minute but they screamed.”
“And then they got their feathers!” he said and strutted. “Grand
siskins, all four of them. Do you remember the day they first hopped
out of the nest?”
She remembered. She remembered many more things and reminded
him of them all. And, when there was nothing left to say, they
moved closer to each other and sat silent; and each apart thought of
the old days.
And all the others were like the siskins.
22.
The flowers benttowards one another and whispered about the
golden time when they stood with a bee in every chalice. So eager
were they to tell their stories that none could wait for the other to
finish. All over the meadow, it sounded:
“Do you remember...? Do you remember...?”
The flies and the bees sat for half the day and idled and talked
intimately and cosily of the beautiful summer days when they
hummed and buzzed and reigned in the meadow. The trees waved
their branches softly to one another and told long stories of their
green youth. The rushes put their brown tips together and dreamt
the whole thing over again. The little brown mice sat in the hedge,
in the evening sun, and told the children the story of their courtship.
“Do you remember...? Do you remember...?”
In the midst of the valley stood the Prince of Autumn, with his horn
in his hand. But none saw him.
Then the crow flew out of the wood on flapping wings and
screamed:
“Past! Past! How can you care to talk of those old things? It’s all
past! Past! Past!”
Echo sang from the hills:
“Past! Past! Past!”
And Echo whispered in the rushes and hummed in the river and
sounded in all that lived in the land. They all then and there
understood that summer was over. They stopped in the middle of
their stories and listened and chimed in:
“Past! Past! Past!”
And suddenly they all saw the Prince of Autumn, as he stood there
in the midst of them, in his motley cloak. They stared at him with
frightened eyes and at one another.
But he put his horn to his mouth and blew till it rang over the valley:
23.
Autumn’s horn blewa lusty chime,
For the first time, for the first time!
Interpret well its warning:
September night,
Breed mushrooms white,
Lay midge in mould,
Plait bronze with gold
For green tree-tops’ adorning.
He looked over the valley with his serious eyes. But, when the last
echo of the notes had died away, he spread his motley cloak in the
sun and laughed and nodded.
And, while the sky was higher than it had ever been and the air mild
and the lake blue and the mountains stood out clear on the horizon,
the land passed dutifully under Autumn’s dominion.
It had indeed begun on the night when Summer went away, with a
yellow leaf here and a brown leaf there, but none had noticed it.
Now it went at a quicker pace; and, as time wore on, there came
ever more colours and greater splendour.
The lime-trees turned bright yellow and the beech bronze, but the
elder-tree even blacker than it had been. The bell-flower rang with
white bells, where it used to ring with blue, and the chestnut-tree
blessed all the world with its five yellow fingers. The mountain-ash
shed its leaves that all might admire its pretty berries; the wild rose
nodded with a hundred hips; the Virginia creeper broke over the
hedge in blazing flames.
The moss grew soft and green; and the toadstools shot up in the
night. Queer, soft, pale creatures they were and poisonous and
envious they looked. But some of them had a scarlet hat on and all
were overjoyed with life.
But the siskin could find no flies and was wailing pitifully.
“Then go away!” said the Prince of Autumn. “Your time is over; and I
have plenty of birds left.”
24.
Away flew siskinand linnet and many with them. But Autumn put his
horn to his mouth and blew:
The loveliest things of Autumn’s pack
In his motley coffers lay:
Red mountain-berries,
Hips sweet as cherries,
Sloes blue and black,
He hung upon every spray.
And blackbird and thrush chattered blithely in the copsewood, which
gleamed with berries, and a thousand sparrows kept them company.
At night, it was quite still. The stag went into the meadow with
noiseless steps and lifted his antlers and reconnoitred. The bird sat
and slept somewhere with his head under his wing; the wind dared
hardly whisper among the faded foliage. The stars twinkled far and
peacefully.
Then the leaves fell.
And, as they broke from the branches and whirled through the air
and fell to the ground, they sighed softly and filled the forest with
strange, plaintive sounds. But none could hear them who had not
seen his own hopes die.
But, next morning, those which were left gleamed brighter still and
spread themselves and laughed in the sun, as if they had never
amused themselves so well. The birch stood flirting on the moor;
and the tiny little plants in the hedge sported their red leaves. The
beech and the oak changed one thing or another in their dress each
day, till they became more fantastic than ever. The falling leaves flew
from tree to tree and remained lying there, till the whole at last
became one great confusion.
25.
But redder thanthe reddest blazed the Virginia creeper; and the
crows made such a din every evening in the old, dead oak that you
could not hear yourself speak. The thrushes chattered, the sparrows
screamed, the wind ran from one to the other and puffed and
panted to add to the fun. High up in the sky, the sun looked gently
down upon it all.
And the Prince of Autumn nodded contentedly and let his motley
cloak flap in the wind:
“I am the least important of the four seasons and am scarcely lord in
my own land,” he said. “I serve two jealous masters and have to
please them both. But my power extends so far, that I can give you
a few glad days.”
Then he put his horn to his mouth and blew:
To the valley revellers hie!
They are clad in autumnal fancy-dresses,
They are weary of green and faded tresses
Summer has vanished, Winter is nigh—
Hey fol-de-rol-day for Autumn!
The beech wears a coat of red,
The oak grows feeble, his strength is shaken,
Summer’s fine birds the Devil has taken!
The bees are excused, the flies are dead—
Hey fol-re-rol-day for Autumn!
The birch that was ever shy.
Stands—look!—in her yellow smock unbidden,
With scarcely a white, lank limb that’s hidden!
Green pines straddle towards the sky—
Hey fol-re-rol-day for Autumn!
But, just as the gaiety was at its height and the land full of noise,
exactly as in the fairest days of summer ... there were two that
26.
mistook the timeof year!
It was the cherry-tree for one and the strawberry-plant for another.
They felt the sun shining so very warm and saw how everything
rejoiced. Then they forgot themselves and burst forth anew.
Carefully, they opened their white flowers and shivered at once, for
it was colder than they had thought.
And, when the dainty white blossoms spread in the morning sun, all
the motley trees of the wood laughed them to scorn. The crows fell
off the branches with laughter, the sparrows shrieked: one and all
considered it the best notion they had ever seen. But a belated bee
opened six thousand great eyes and had an apoplectic fit, because
she thought she had taken leave of her senses.
The Prince of Autumn looked at the flowers with moist eyes and
shook his head:
“You poor little ninnies!” he said, sadly.
But the Virginia creeper flung her warm red arms around them and
said that they were sweet.
The blossoms thrived and grew; and one of them even put forth a
tiny green berry. And, when the others saw that, they gave up
laughing and began to think about it. The alder looked itself up and
down and reflected that it still was quite green; and the birch was
nearly sinking into the ground for shame at its nakedness. The old
frog suddenly said, “Quack!” and was so startled at this that she
plunged head foremost to the bottom of the lake. The sparrow
suddenly felt lonely and looked round fondly among the daughters of
the land.
But the beech shook up a heap of brown leaves and clung
convulsively to those which were green:
“It may be possible,” it said to itself and, then and there, put out
three new shoots.
27.
But, the nightafter this happened, there was a tremendous
disturbance up on the mountain-peaks, where the eternal snows had
lain both in Spring’s time and Summer’s. It sounded like a storm
approaching. The trees grew frightened, the crows were silent, the
wind held its breath.
The Prince of Autumn bent forward and listened:
“Is that the worst you can do?” shouted a hoarse voice through the
darkness.
Autumn raised his head and looked straight into Winter’s great, cold
eyes.
“Have you forgotten the bargain?” asked Winter.
“No,” replied Autumn. “I have not forgotten it. But, if they must die,
at least give them leave to dance.”
“Have a care!” shouted Winter.
The whole night through, it rumbled and tumbled in the mountains.
It turned so bitterly cold that the starling thought seriously of
packing up; and even the red creeper turned pale. When the sun
rose, the cherry-blossoms and strawberry-blossoms hung dead upon
their stalks.
The distant peaks glittered with new snow.
And the Prince of Autumn laughed no more. He looked out earnestly
over the land and the wrinkles in his forehead grew deeper:
“It must be so then!” he said.
Then he blew his horn:
28.
Autumn’s horn blewa lusty chime;
For the second time, for the second time!
Heed well the call, complying:
Fling seed to earth!
Fill sack’s full girth!
Plump back and side!
Pad belt and hide!
Hold all wings close for flying!
Then suddenly a terrible bustle arose in the land. For now they all
understood that fortune was on the ebb; and all thought that there
was something they had forgotten or something they were not ready
with.
Round about the thicket, the bushes shouted aloud:
“Buy my hips! Who’ll buy?”
“Service-berries! Service-berries! Fine red service-berries!”
“Blackberries! Fresh blackberries!”
“Sloes! Sloes! Sloes!”
And the thrush and the blackbird swept down upon them and
gorged themselves with the good berries till they were well provided
for their journey. The sparrows ate all they could get down; the
crows drove the others away and guzzled.
“Quick!” said Autumn. “Remove that finery!”
The poppy and the bell-flower and the pink stood thin and dry as
sticks, with their heads full of seed. The dandelion had presented
each one of his seeds with a sweet little parachute.
“Come, dear Wind, and shake us!” said the poppy.
“Fly away with my seeds, Wind!” said the dandelion.
And the wind hastened to do as they asked.
But the beech cunningly dropped his shaggy fruit on to the hare’s
fur; and the fox got one also on his red coat. Thus they carried the
29.
beech’s children outinto the world without having the least suspicion
what they were doing.
“Quick, now!” said Autumn. “There’s no time here to waste.”
The little brown mice filled their parlours from floor to ceiling with
nuts and beech-mast and acorns. The hedgehog had already eaten
himself so fat that he could hardly lower his quills, but still loitered
around all night to get more food. The hare and the fox and the stag
put on clean white woollen things under their coats. The starling and
the thrush and the blackbird saw to their downy clothing and
exercised their wings for the long journey. The sparrows were
envious that they could not go too; as for the crows, nothing
seemed to hurt them; and the lapwing sat on his tussock and looked
lonely.
But the bat went right away and hung himself on his own hindlegs
deep down in a hollow tree.
“Quick!” said Autumn. “It will be over in a week.”
The sun hid himself behind the clouds and did not appear for many
days.
It began to rain. The wind quickened its pace: it dashed the rain
over the meadow, whipped the river into foam and whistled
uncannily through the trunks in the forest. The leaves fell without
ceasing.
“Now the song is finished!” said the Prince of Autumn.
Then he put his horn to his mouth and blew:
Autumn’s horn blew a lusty chime,
For the last time, for the last time!
Ways close when need is sorest:
Land-birds, fly clear!
Plunge, frogs, in mere!
Bee, lock your lair!
Take shelter, bear!
Fall, last leaf in the forest!
30.
And then itwas over.
It all went at such a rate that one could hardly tell how it began or
how it ended.
The birds flew from the land in flocks. The starling and the lapwing,
the thrush and the blackbird all migrated to the South. Every night,
the sparrow heard their chirping and the fluttering of their wings in
the air.
Every morning, before the sun rose, the wind tore through the forest
and pulled the last leaves off the trees. Every day, the wind blew
stronger, snapped great branches, swept the withered leaves
together into heaps, scattered them again and, at last, laid them like
a soft, thick carpet over the whole floor of the forest. Here and
there, a single leaf hung on a twig and resisted and refused to die.
But this was only a short respite, for, if it did not fall to-day, it fell to-
morrow.
The hedgehog crawled so far into a hole under a heap of stones that
he remained caught between two of them and could move neither
forwards nor backwards. The sparrow took lodgings in a deserted
swallow’s-nest; the frogs went to the bottom of the pond for good,
settled in the mud, with the tips of their noses up in the water, and
prepared for whatever might come. The waves loosened the water-
lily’s stalks and washed them clean away; the rushes snapped in the
storm and drifted with the stream.
The Prince of Autumn stood and gazed over the land to see if it was
bare and waste, so that Winter’s storms might come buffeting at will
and the snow lie where it pleased.
And so empty was it that the sun rose later, morning after morning,
and went earlier to bed, evening after evening, because he did not
think that he had anything to shine upon.
“Now I’m coming!” roared Winter from the mountains. “My clouds
are bursting with snow; and my storms are breaking loose.”
“I have one day left,” said Autumn.
31.
He walked acrossthe meadow, where already the grass was yellow
and the flowers gone, except the little white daisy, which can never
get done in time. Then he went into the naked wood. He peeped at
the hedgehog, smiled at the little brown mice, who carried the shells
neatly and decently outside the parlour each time they had had a
nut-feast, patted the strong beech-trunks and asked them if they
could stand the storm and nodded to the jolly crows.
Then he stopped before the old, dead oak and looked at the ivy that
clambered right up to the top and spread her green leaves as if
Winter had no existence at all.
And, while he looked at it with eyes that were gentle and moist like
Spring’s, the ivy-flowers blossomed. They sat right at the top and
rocked in the wind, yellow-green and insignificant, but just as good
flowers as any of those which grew in Summer’s kingdom.
“Now I can restrain my storms no longer!” roared Winter.
The Prince of Autumn bent his head and listened. He could hear the
storm come rushing down over the mountains. A snowflake fell upon
his motley cloak ... and another ... and yet another....
For the last time, he put his horn to his mouth and blew in sad and
subdued tones:
Thou greenest plant and tardiest,
Thou fairest, rarest, hardiest,
Bright through unending hours!
Round Summer, Winter, Autumn, Spring,
Thy vigorous embraces cling.
Look! Ivy mine, ’tis I who sing,
’Tis Autumn wins thy flowers!
Then he went away in the storm.
CHAPTER V
Winter
Wee snow-birds,white snow-birds,
White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Through fields skim along!
Winter was on the mountains, but his face was hidden by thick
clouds that lay in wait, ready to burst and let loose all the evil that
was in them.
Now and again, the clouds parted a little. But that was only for a
moment; and, when it happened, the snow-clad peaks glittered in
the sun till you could look at nothing else and could hardly bear to
look at them. And, even when the storm flew wildest over the valley
and the river foamed and the trees cracked and broke and fell, even
then the clouds lay thick and close before the face of Winter.
Sometimes, some of them dissolved into mists, which swept down
upon the valley and filled it quite. But they were different mists from
those which Spring laid over the land. No violets came from them; in
their lap were no crops and no longing and no life. They were as
cold as if there were no sun at all behind them.
Sometimes, it rained, in a dense and endless downpour, day after
day. The blast dashed the rain into the eyes of the hare and the
stag, till they had to hide where best they could and turn their tails
to the wind. The little brown mice could hardly put their noses
outside their door; and the sparrows sat rumpled and disconsolate
under the leafless bushes. But the crows rocked undaunted on the
tallest twigs and held their beaks straight to the wind, so that it
should not blow up under their feathers.
34.
Sometimes, it snowedas well. But it was a stupid, sluggish snow,
which melted the moment that it touched the ground.
At night, the wind hooted in the mountain-clefts and the owl in the
wood. The withered leaves ran round and rustled like ghosts. The
boughs of the trees swayed sadly to and fro, to and fro.
And, whether it snowed or rained or only misted, whether it were
day or night, the valley lay ever in a horrid sludge and just as many
clouds hung lurking in the mountains. The withered blades of grass
eddied hopelessly in the meadow. The waves flowed bleak and cold
in the river.
Then, one night, it froze.
The slush on the ground hardened into a thin crust, which the stag
stuck his hoof through, but the hare ran safely across it. The
hedgehog shivered in his dreams, the ivy-flowers faded, the puddles
got ice upon them.
And, next morning early, a thin layer of snow fell over the land. The
sun shone again, but far and cold; and the clouds drifted away.
The Prince of Winter sat on the mountains: an old man, with white
hair and beard. His naked breast was shaggy, shaggy his legs and
hands. He looked strong and wild, with cold stern eyes.
But he was not angry, as when Spring drove him from the valley and
when Autumn did not go quickly enough. He looked out over the
kingdom calmly, for now he knew that it was his. And, when he
found anything dead or empty or desolate, he plucked at his great
white beard and gave a harsh and satisfied laugh.
But all that lived in the land was struck with terror when it looked
into his cold eyes.
The trees shook in their thick bark and the bushes struck their
branches together in consternation. The mouse became quite snow-
blind, when she peeped outside the door; the stag looked mournfully
over the white meadow:
35.
“My muzzle canstill break through the ice, when I drink,” he said. “I
can still scrape the snow to one side and find a tuft of grass. But, if
things go on like this for another week, then it’s all up with me.”
The crows and the chaffinch and the sparrow and the tit had quite
lost their voices. They thought of the other birds, who had departed
in time, and knew not where to turn in their distress. At last, they
set out in a row to carry their humble greeting to the new lord of the
land:
“Here come your birds, O mightiest of all princes!” said the crow and
stood and marked time in the white snow. “The others left the
country as soon as you announced your coming, but we have
remained to submit us to your sway. Now be a gracious lord to us
and grant us food.”
“We bow before Your Highness!” said the chaffinch.
“We have so longed for you!” said the tit and put his head on one
side.
And the sparrow said the same as the others, in a tone of deep
respect.
But the Prince of Winter laughed at them disdainfully:
“Ha, you time-serving birds!” he said. “Now you fawn upon me. In
Summer’s time, you amused yourselves merrily; in Autumn’s you ate
yourselves stout and fat; and, as soon as Spring strikes up, you will
dance to his piping like the others. I hate you and your screaming
and squalling and the trees you hop about in. You are all here to
defy me; and I shall do for you if I can.”
Then he rose in all his strength:
“I have my own birds and now you shall see them.”
He clapped his hands and sang:
36.
Wee snow-birds, whitesnow-birds,
White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Through fields skim along!
To jubilant Spring I grudge music of no birds,
To Summer no song.
Come, Winter’s mute messengers, swift birds and slow birds,
White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Till the valley be soft as down for your nesting
Of numberless ice-eggs by frosty rims spanned!
Now rushing, now resting,
White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Skim soft through the land!
And Winter’s birds came.
Suddenly, it darkened and the air became full of little black specks,
which descended and turned into great white snowflakes. They fell
over the ground, more and more, in an endless multitude; all white
and silent, they lay side by side and layer upon layer. The carpet
over the land grew ever thicker.
The crows and the others took shelter in the forest, while the snow
fell, and gazed dejectedly over the valley. There was now not a
blade of grass, nor yet a stone to be seen: everything was smooth
and soft and white. Only the trees stood out high in the air; and the
river flowed through the meadow, black with anger.
“I know how to crush you!” said the Prince of Winter.
And, when evening came, he told the wind to go down. Then the
waves became small and still, Winter stared at them with his cold
eyes and the ice built its bridge from bank to bank. In vain the
waves tried to hum Spring’s song. There was no strength in their
voices. In vain they called upon Summer’s sun and Autumn’s cool
breezes. There was none that heard their complaint; and they had to
submit to the yoke.
Next morning, there was nothing left of the river but a narrow
channel; and, when one more night had passed, the bridge was
37.
finished. Again thePrince of Winter called for his white birds; and
soon the carpet was drawn over the river, till it was no longer
possible to see where land began and water ended.
But the trees strutted ever so boldly out of the deep snow; and the
crows screamed in their tops. The firs and pines had kept all their
leaves and were so green that it was quite shocking to behold.
Wherever they stood, they acted as a protection against the frost
and a shelter against the snow; and the chaffinch and the other
small birds found a hospitable refuge under their roofs.
The Prince of Winter looked at them angrily:
“If I could but cow you, if I could but break you!” he said. “You defy
me and you irritate me. You stand in the midst of my kingdom
keeping guard for Summer and you give shelter to the confounded
screechers and screamers who disturb the peace of my land. My ice
cannot penetrate to your pith and kill you. If I had only snow
enough to bury you, so that, at least, you did not offend my eyes!”
But the trees stood strong under Winter’s wrath and waved their
long branches:
“You have taken from us what you can,” they said. “Farther than that
your power does not go. We will wait calmly for better times.”
When they had said this, Winter suddenly set eyes upon tiny little
buds round about the twigs. He saw the walnut’s spikes, that
smacked of spring. He saw the little brown mice trip out for a run in
the snow and disappear again into their snug parlours before his
eyes. He distinctly heard the hedgehog snoring in the hedge; and
the crows kept on screaming in his ears. Through his own ice, he
saw the noses of the frogs stick up from the bottom of the pond.
He was seized with frenzy:
“Do I dream or am I awake?” he shouted and tore at his beard with
both hands. “Are they making a fool of me? Am I the master or
not?”
38.
He heard theanemones breathe peacefully and lightly in the mould,
he heard thousands of grubs bore deep into the wood of the trees
as cheerfully and imperturbably as though Summer were in the land.
He saw the bees crawl about in their busy hive and share the honey
they had collected in summer and have a happy time. He saw the
bat in the hollow tree, the worm deep down in the ground; and,
wherever he turned, he saw millions of eggs and grubs and
chrysalids, well guarded and waiting confidently for him to go away.
Then he leapt down into the valley and raised his clenched fists to
heaven. His white hair and beard streamed in the wind, his lips
trembled, his eyes glittered like ice.
He stamped on the ground and sang in his loud, hoarse voice:
Roar forth, mine anger, roar and rouse
What breathes below earth’s girder!
By thousands slay them—bird and mouse,
And fish and frog and leaf and louse!
In deadly fog the valley souse!
Build me a royal pleasure-house
Of ice and snow, where storms carouse
With Death and Cold and Murder!
He shouted it over the land.
The ice broke and split into long cracks. It sounded like thunder from
the bottom of the river. It darkened, as when Summer’s thunder-
storms used to gather over the valley, but worse still, for then you
could perceive that it would all pass by, but now there was no hope
to be seen.
Then the storm broke loose.
The gale roared so that you could hear the trees fall crashing in the
forest. The ice was split in two and the huge floes heaped up into
towering icebergs, while the water froze together again at once. The
frost bit as deep into the ground as it could go and bit to death
every living thing that it found in the mould. The snow fell and
drifted over meadow and hill; sky and earth were blended into one.
39.
This lasted formany days; and those were hard times.
The sparrows did not know at last if they were alive or dead; the
crows crept into the pine-forest, silent with hunger and fear. The
stag had not found a single tuft of grass for two days past and now
leapt belling through the wood, tortured with starvation. The mice
crept together in their parlours and froze; the chaffinch froze to
death; the hare lay dead in the meadow; the fox ate the hare’s
remains and was very thankful to do so.
And, when the weather subsided at last, things were not a whit
better.
It was more piercingly cold than ever. The snow lay all around in
huge drifts; and, where the snow had been blown away, the ground
was hard as stone. Every single puddle was frozen to the bottom;
the lake was frozen, the river was frozen; and the stag had to
swallow snow to slake his thirst.
Want reigned on every side.
The hedgehog had shrunk until there was room for two in the hole
which was once too small for him. The crows fought like mad, if they
found as much as an old shrivelled berry forgotten in the bushes.
The fox skulked about with an empty stomach and evil eyes. But the
little brown mice discovered with dismay that they were nearly come
to the bottom of their store-room, for they had eaten very hard to
keep warm in the bad days.
The Prince of Winter stood in the valley and looked upon all this with
content. He went into the forest, where the snow was frozen to
windward right up to the tops of the smooth beech-trunks; but on
the boughs of the fir-trees it lay so thick that they were weighed
right down to the ground.
“You may be Summer’s servants,” he said, scornfully, “but still you
have to resign yourselves to wearing my livery. And now the sun
shall shine on you; and I will have a glorious day after my own
heart.”
40.
He bade thesun come out; and he came.
He rode over a bright blue sky; and all that was still alive in the
valley raised itself towards him and looked to him for warmth. There
was a yearning and a sighing deep in the ground and deep in the
forest and deep in the river:
“Call Spring back to the valley! Give us Summer again! We are
yearning! We are yearning!”
But the sun had but a cold smile in answer to their prayers. He
gleamed upon the hoar-frost, but could not melt it; he stared down
at the snow, but could not thaw it.
The valley lay dead and silent under its white winding-sheet.
Scarcely even the crows screamed in the forest.
“That’s how I like to see the land,” said Winter.
And the day came to an end, a short, sorry day, swallowed up
helplessly in the great, stern night, in which a thousand stars shone
cold over the earth. The snow creaked under the tread of the stag;
the sparrow chirped with hunger in his sleep. The ice thundered and
split into huge cracks.
The Prince of Winter sat on his mountain throne again and surveyed
his kingdom and was glad. His great, cold eyes stared, while he
growled in his beard:
41.
Proud of speechand hard of hand,
A cruel lord to follow,
Winter locks up sea and land,
Blocks up every hollow.
Summer coaxes, sweet and bland,
Flowers in soft vigour;
At Winter’s harsh and grim command,
They die of ruthless rigour.
Short and cold is Winter’s day,
Long and worse night’s hours;
Few birds languish in his pay
And yet fewer flowers.
The days wore on and Winter reigned over the land.
The little brown mice had eaten their last nut and were at their wits’
end as to the future. The hedgehog was reduced to skin and bone;
the crows were nearly giving in. The river lay dead under the ice.
Then suddenly there came the sound of singing:
Play up! Play soon!
Keep time! Keep tune!
Ye wavelets blue and tender!
Keep time! Keep tune!
Burst ice and rime
In equinoctial splendour!
Up leapt Winter and stared with his hand over his brows.
Down below in the valley stood the Prince of Spring, young and
straight, in his green garb, with the lute slung over his shoulder. His
long hair waved in the wind, his face was soft and round, his mouth
was ever smiling, his eyes were dreamy and moist.
CHAPTER VI
The SecondMeeting
A thousand centuries ran as fast
As runs one day of gladness past
And how that is none knoweth.
A hundred thousand years passed, one like the other, and the day
came when the princes were to meet again, as arranged, and to
hear from one another how things had gone.
They went to the meeting-place in the darkness of the night and sat
down separately where they had sat before, in a circle, each on his
mountain. When the sun rose, he shone upon the four great lords in
all their might and splendour.
And Summer’s purple cloak beamed and the golden belt round his
loins and the rose in his belt. Spring sat in his green garb and
plucked at the strings of his lute and hummed to it. Autumn’s motley
cloak flapped in the wind. The snow on Winter’s mountain sparkled
like diamonds.
Summer’s eyes and Winter’s met for the first time after many years.
The sweat sprang to Winter’s brow; Summer shivered and wrapped
himself in his cloak. They were both equally strong and equally
proud; the eyes of the one were as gentle as the other’s were cold
and stern. They looked angrily at each other, bitter, irreconcilable
enemies as before.
And Spring and Autumn sat just opposite each other, as on that day
long since; and their eyes met like Winter’s and Summer’s, for they
neither had seen each other during the years that passed. And
Spring’s glance was just as moist and dreamy and young and
Autumn’s just as sad and serious.
44.
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