And so the song was finished. Then they called To Kizzil Bash, the Sutler of Dilman, "Take up the tale, for you have wandered far Behind strange masters...." Once, he said, I served One of the Roumi lordlings, silver-faced, Who to forget some sorrow or lost love-- Such is their way--came with an embassage To cringe before the Caliph in Stamboul For something sordid, trade.... He mouthed our verse To please his guests, and I corrected him. The man was cypress-sad and lone, but he Could not be silent as the great should be, Because he neither knew his place nor me. The boatman marvelled at his lack of dignity. They knew the currents. He was bent on steering, And spoke of God in terms wellnigh endearing. I see him still, sharp beard, black velvet mantle, ear-ring. He dug with slaves for Greekling manuscript, Danced like a slave-girl when he found, and shipped Westward cracked heads and friezes we had chipped. I saw him kiss a statue, murmuring eager-lipped: "Fear was born when the woods were young. Chance had gathered an heap of sods, Where the slip of a tree-man's tongue Throned the dam of the elder gods. Twilight, a rustled leaf, Started the first belief In some unearthly Chief Latent behind Cover of aspen shade. Skirting the haunted glade Some one found speech, and prayed. Was it the wind Sniffing his cavern or the demon's laughter? Here from the night he conjured up Hereafter, Quarried the river-mists to house the unseen. Only the woodpecker had found life hollow, And gods went whither none was fain to follow, Because the earth was green And Afterwards was black. "Man, the child of a tale of rape, Drew the seas with his hunting ships, Cut their prows to a giant's shape, Fitted names to their snarling lips: Gods in his image born, Singing, fierce-eyed, unshorn, Lords of a drinking-horn Five fathoms deep; Holding the one reward Carved by a dripping sword, Feasts, and above them stored Ceiling-high sleep. Save to the conqueror Life was put-off Dying, And Death brought nothing but the irk of lying-- How long--with over-restful hosts abed. The rough immortals, whom he met unshrinking, Spared him from nothing but the pain of thinking. And so the earth was red While Afterwards was grey.