If you can hit the place where He Is hidden who considers me, We need no longer tarry. For I am drawn by an insatiable desire, I am consumed in an impetuous fire, And I am denied all rest Until my quest Is ended. Would that I could find A lodge for my soul, where I might leave behind All longing for ever, slumbering complete At His feet. Would I could rest in that bright place where I In spirit lie. Its light has cast a shadow on the brow Of this fair “Now.” Why did He make that garden-place so fair? My soul, a bird, is there, With limed wings fast to that apple-bough. MARKSMAN [_Putting his hand kindly on his shoulder._] Come, then, and let’s be gone. Your fellows will come after you anon. [_They launch the ship, and the Gripper takes the helm. The Tracker, who is at the bow, is seen telling him now to go this way and now to go that way, and the ship obeys his hand beautifully. The waves begin to rise as the ship gets farther from sight, but the Tracker still finds a smooth path through the waters. The Listener leans over the side, and sings a song as the boat slips out to sea. It is a wild and beautiful song, haunting, sweet, and long-drawn-out._] LISTENER’S SONG I made a little song, and it was true, Though nobody heeded it in the press of things; I left it alone a thousand years, and it grew, And I heard it again one day in the mouth of kings. All as I went I joyed me a mighty joy. They laughed at me; they said: “You’re still very young”; But I knew better than that when I was a boy, And when I was old I found the song I’d sung. FOOTNOTES: [1] The Highland “Echo.” ACT III. SCENE 1 A BEAUTIFUL HIGHLAND SHORE: AFTERNOON _In the distance up the glen there is seen smoke evidently rising from a house hidden somewhere in the trees. In the foreground there are heather and rocks and a beautiful alder-tree with thick foliage. Curlews and sea-gulls are crying, and a breeze is tossing the waves into white horses. At this moment Finn enters, looking rather wretched and storm-tossed. He sits down on a boulder, with a weary sigh._ FINN [_Yawning._] Heigh-ho!—Hay-hum-harry! This box is a weary weight to carry. CLIMBER’S VOICE [_Calling from the alder-tree._] I wish you’d let me take a share! FINN [_Starting violently, and looking up._] Certainly not! What are you doing up there? CLIMBER [_Pushing her head out through the leaves._] I went up after a squirrel. FINN At your age that’s not proper for a girl. CLIMBER