en.

"Tremble," said the son of Osslah, with a loud voice. "Hark to the gods,
who threaten thee with death, that thou hast dared to lift thine arm
against their servant!"

As he spoke, the thunder rolled above; for one of the frequent storms of
the early summer was about to break.

The spear dropped from the prince's hand; he sat down and cast his eyes
on the ground.

"Wilt thou do the bidding of the stars, and reign?" said Morven.

"I will!" cried Siror, with a desperate voice.

"This evening, then, when the sun sets, thou wilt lead her hither,
alone; I may not attend thee. Now, let us pile the stones."

Silently the huntsman bent his vast strength to the fragments of rock
that Morven pointed to him, and they built the altar, and went their
way.

And beautiful is the dying of the great sum when the last song of the
birds fades into the lap of silence; when the islands of the cloud are
bathed in light, and the first star springs up over the grave of day.

"Whither leadest thou my steps, my brother?" said Gina; "and why doth
thy lip quiver? and why dost thou tarn away thy face?"

"Is not the forest beautiful; doth it not tempt us forth, my sister?"

"And wherefore are those heaps of stone piled together?"

"Let others answer; _I_ piled them not."

"Thou tremblest brother: we will return."

"Not so; by those stones is a bird that my shaft pierced to-day; a bird
of beautiful plumage that I slew for thee."

"We are by the pile: where hast thou laid the bird?"

"Here!" cried Siror; and he seized the maiden in his arms, and, casting
her on the rude altar, he drew forth his sword to smite her to the
heart.

Right over the stones rose a giant oak, the growth of immemorial ages;
and from the oak, or from the heavens; broke forth a loud and solemn
voice:

"Strike not, son of kings! the stars forbear their own: the maiden thou
shalt not slay; yet shalt thou reign over the race of Oestrich; and thou
shall give Orna as a bride to the favorite of the stars. Arise, and go
thy way!"

The voice ceased: the terror of Orna had overpowered for a time the
springs of life; and Siror bore her home through the wood in his strong
arms.

"Alas!" said Morven, when, at the next day, he again met the aspiring
prince; "alas! the stars have ordained me a lot which my heart desires
not; for I, lonely of life, and crippled of shape, am insensible to the
fires of love; and ever, as thou and thy tribe know, I have shunned