If, in a composition such as " Cathal-of-the-
Woods," there is the expression of revolt —
not ancient only, nor of the hour, but eternal,
for the revolt is of the sovereign nature with-
in us whereon all else is an accidental super-
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structure — ^against the Christian ethic of re-
nunciation, with a concurrent echo of our deep
primeval longing for earth-kinship with every
life in Nature: if here there is the breath of
a day that may not come again, there is little
or nothing of the past, save what is merely
accidental, in " The Fisher of Men " or " The
Last Supper." I like to think that these each-
daireachd spioradail, these spiritual chronicles,
might as well, in substance, have been told a
thousand years ago or be written a thousand
years hence. That Fisher still haunts the in-
visible shadowy stream of human tears ; those
mystic Spinners still ply their triple shuttles,
and the fair Weaver of Hope now as of yore
and for ever sends his rainbows adrift across
the hearts and through the minds of men.
What does it matter, again, that the Three
Marvels of Hy are set against the background
of the lona of St Columba? St Francis
blessed the birds of Assisi, and San Antonio
had a heart as tender for all winged and
gentle creatures; and there are innumerable
quiet gardens of peace in the world even now,
where the kindred of San Antonio and St
Francis and St Columba are kith to our fel-
low-beings, knowing them akin one and all to
the seals whom St Molios blessed at the end
of his days, and in his new humbleness hailed
ISO



Prologue

as likewise of the company of the sons of
God.
