Chapter XXXII.
HOW YWAIN LIVED AS IT HAD BEEN IN THE GOLDEN AGE AND HOW HE WAS STILL UNSATISFIED.

RIGHT so came the night and they got them homeward. And Aithne went to her hut, where she had her living among the shepherds, but Ywain returned and rested with the fauns. And he slept not, but lay a great time waking, and longing for the morrow morn: whereby he hastened it not, but delayed it rather. And this is the folly of men that they will look ever forward to that which they have not, and take no rest in that which they have. For Ywain had that day gathered to fill both his hands—namely, by seeing Aladore and by taking of his lady in arms: and in a long life there will come but few such days, so that it were wisdom to cherish them in memory. But Ywain remembered scantly that which was past and gathered, for his mind was all on the kisses that were to come: and folly it was past gainsaying, but of such folly is the life of man.

So he lay longing, and arose in hope, and continued many days after the same gait. And his desire fled still before him, and he followed and thought not on the way of his going: for to him one day was like another, and one night was like another, and he counted them no more than a child will count the beads upon a string. But Aithne counted them and laid them by, and when she counted them she trembled. For she also would have him gone on pilgrimage, seeing that so only might she meet with her love in Aladore: but many times she said within herself: Not yet, poor lady me, for none knows what may fortune, and belike this is all that shall be mine. Now the manner of their days was after the manner of the Golden Days. For their meeting was in the freshness of the morning, when all things are made new: and they ate and drank together with few words, and between them was a bowl of milk, and over it they laughed one at another with their eyes. For about the bowl was a thread of scarlet wool, and Ywain knew well for what reason it was there: yet would he ask many times for asking’s sake. And Aithne said how it was there of great necessity: for she set it there to be a witchknot, to draw her love to her by shepherd’s magic. Then many times he broke the thread and cast it on the ground, and always when he came again the knot was freshly knotted upon the bowl. So out of nothing they made much, after the old fashion.

Then with their sheep they took the road, and came thence upon the upland pastures. And while the day was yet cool they two went wandering alone, and marvelling at all the diverse flowers upon the hills. But when the sun was overhead and the air began to tremble upon the rocks, then beneath a little cliff they found a spring of water flowing out continually and sparkling like crystal above the pebbles. And thereby grew tall fir-trees, and white poplars, and cypresses and planes, and on the branches the cicalas were chirruping, all sunburnt, and the ring-doves were moaning one to another of love. And below them were many flowers of fragrance, such as fill the meadows in the heyday of the year before it wanes: and all the land smelt sweetly of summer, and the wild bees went booming about the water springs.

And thither came Ywain to his shepherding and he forgot the world as though it had never been. For he remembered neither land nor gold, nor his old fame among men: but he sat with his love beneath a rock and held her in his arms, and they murmured one to another, and watched their sheep feeding among the thyme. And when it drew towards evening then they came downward from the hill, and listened to hear the young faun’s music: for among the fauns there is not one that dare pipe at noon, but at evening they will pipe without fear. And when there was a sound of music then Ywain came always to the glassy pool, hoping that he might have sight of Aladore. And when the pool was still he saw it, for the piping of the faun was of a strong magic, beyond all understanding of him that made it, as happens many times to them that make music. But Ywain had of that magic more pain than joy: for the vision which he saw thereby was of no substantial city, but an image made in water. And to find that city in truth his heart was restless with desire, for he knew that except he came there he might have neither fulness of love, neither abiding.