Then the sea cried out in an agony of helpless love. But the mountain
heard her not, for the air refused to bring the words she said.
"She is false!" whispered the air. "I alone am true to thee."
But the mountain believed her not. Day after day he reared his massive
head aloft and turned his honest face to the receding sea and begged her
to return; day after day the sea threw up her snowy arms and uttered the
wildest lamentations, but the mountain heard her not; and day by day the
sea receded farther and farther from the mountain's base. Where she once
had spread her fair surface appeared fertile plains and verdant groves
all peopled with living things, whose voices the air brought to the
mountain's ears in the hope that they might distract the mountain from
his mourning.
But the mountain would not be comforted; he lifted his sturdy head
aloft, and his sorrowing face was turned ever toward the fleeting object
of his love. Hills, valleys, forests, plains, and other mountains
separated them now, but over and beyond them all he could see her fair
face lifted pleadingly toward him, while her white arms tossed wildly to
and fro. But he did not know what words she said, for the envious air
would not bear her messages to him.
Then many ages came and went, until now the sea was far distant, so very
distant that the mountain could not behold her,--nay, had he been ten
thousand times as lofty he could not have seen her, she was so far away.
But still, as of old, the mountain stood with his majestic head high in
the sky, and his face turned whither he had seen her fading like a dream
away.
"Come back, come back, O my beloved!" he cried and cried.
And the sea, a thousand miles or more away, still thought forever of the
mountain. Vainly she peered over the western horizon for a glimpse of
his proud head and honest face. The horizon was dark. Her lover was far
beyond; forests, plains, hills, valleys, rivers, and other mountains
intervened. Her watching was as hopeless as her love.
"She is false!" whispered the air to the mountain. "She is false, and
she has gone to another lover. I alone am true!"
But the mountain believed her not. And one day clouds came floating
through the sky and hovered around the mountain's crest.
"Who art thou," cried the mountain,--"who art thou that thou fill'st me
with such a subtile consolation? Thy breath is like my beloved's, and
thy kisses are like her kisses."
"We come from the sea," answered the clouds. "She loves thee, and she
has sent us to bid thee be courageous, for she will come back to thee."
Then the clouds covered the mountain and bathed him with the glory of
the sea's true love. The air raged furiously, but all in vain. Ever
after that the clouds came each day with love-messages from the sea, and
oftentimes the clouds bore back to the distant sea the tender words the
mountain spoke.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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