Nothing perceived them but that ominous crow glutted overlong already
upon the flesh of man.
The wind blew bleak from the stars.
At first there was dangerous climbing, and then Ackronnion gained the
smooth, broad steps that led from the edge to the lair, and at that
moment heard at the top of the steps the continuous chuckles of the
Gladsome Beast.
He feared then that its mirth might be insuperable, not to be saddened
by the most grievous song; nevertheless he did not turn back then, but
softly climbed the stairs and, placing the agate bowl upon a step,
struck up the chaunt called Dolorous. It told of desolate, regretted
things befallen happy cities long since in the prime of the world. It
told of how the gods and beasts and men had long ago loved beautiful
companions, and long ago in vain. It told of the golden host of happy
hopes, but not of their achieving. It told how Love scorned Death, but
told of Death's laughter. The contented chuckles of the Gladsome Beast
suddenly ceased in his lair. He rose and shook himself. He was still
unhappy. Ackronnion still sang on the chaunt called Dolorous. The
Gladsome Beast came mournfully up to him. Ackronnion ceased not for
the sake of his panic, but still sang on. He sang of the malignity of
time. Two tears welled large in the eyes of the Gladsome Beast.
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