Higher and higher did it rise, yet larger and larger did it grow. At first it was but like a swallow, then a lark, then an eagle, then as vast as a spring cloud, and then it filled the starry heavens. Out of my heart a bird flew skyward. And it waxed larger as it flew. Yet it left not my heart. * * * * * O my faith, my untamed knowledge, how shall I fly to your height and see with you man’s larger self pencilled upon the sky? How shall I turn this sea within me into mist, and move with you in space immeasurable? How can a prisoner within the temple behold its golden domes? How shall the heart of a fruit be stretched to envelop the fruit also? O my faith, I am in chains behind these bars of silver and ebony, and I cannot fly with you. Yet out of my heart you rise skyward, and it is my heart that holds you, and I shall be content. [Illustration: drawing signed K. Gibran, 1920] DYNASTIES The Queen of Ishana was in travail of childbirth; and the King and the mighty men of his court were waiting in breathless anxiety in the great hall of the Winged Bulls. At eventide there came suddenly a messenger in haste and prostrated himself before the King, and said, “I bring glad tidings unto my lord the King, and unto the kingdom and the slaves of the King. Mihrab the Cruel, thy life-long enemy, the King of Bethroun, is dead.” When the King and the mighty men heard this, they all rose and shouted for joy; for the powerful Mihrab, had he lived longer, had assuredly overcome Ishana and carried the inhabitants captive. At this moment the court physician also entered the hall of Winged Bulls, and behind him came the royal midwives. And the physician prostrated himself before the king, and said, “My lord the King shall live for ever, and through countless generations shall he rule over the people of Ishana. For unto thee, O King, is born this very hour a son, who shall be thy heir.” Then indeed was the soul of the King intoxicated with joy, that in the same moment his foe was dead and the royal line was established. Now in the City of Ishana lived a true prophet. And the prophet was young, and bold of spirit. And the King that very night ordered that the prophet should be brought before him. And when he was brought, the King said unto him, “Prophesy now, and foretell what shall be the future of my son who is this day born unto the kingdom.” And the prophet hesitated not, but said, “Hearken, O King, and I will indeed prophesy of the future of thy son, that is this day born. The soul of thy enemy, even of thy enemy King Mihrab, who died yestereve, lingered but a day upon the wind. Then it sought for itself a body to enter into. And that which it entered into was the body of thy son that, is born unto thee this hour.” Then the King was enraged, and with his sword he slew the prophet.