the dead, white body of the man
she loved was still out of reach, she prayed her last prayer--a
wordless prayer of anguish to the gods.

"Only let me get near him," she breathed. "Grant only that I nestle
close against his dear breast. Let me show him that, living or dead, I
am his, and he mine forever."

And to Halcyone a great miracle was then vouchsafed, for from out of
her snowy shoulders grew snow-white pinions, and with them she skimmed
over the waves until she reached the rigid body of Ceyx, drifting, a
helpless burden for the conquering waves, in with the swift-flowing
tide. As she flew, she uttered cries of love and of longing, but only
strange raucous cries came from the throat that had once only made
music. And when she reached the body of Ceyx and would fain have
kissed his marble lips, Halcyone found that no longer were her own
lips like the petals of a fair red rose warmed by the sun. For the
gods had heard her prayer, and her horny beak seemed to the watchers
on the shore to be fiercely tearing at the face of him who had been
king of Thessaly.

[Illustration: A GREY COLD MORNING FOUND HER ON THE SEASHORE]

Yet the gods were not merciless--or, perhaps, the love of Halcyone was
an all-conquering love. For as the soul of Halcyone had passed into
the body of a white-winged sea-bird, so also passed the soul of her
husband the king. And for evermore Halcyone and her mate, known as the
Halcyon birds, defied the storm and tempest, and proudly breasted,
side by side, the angriest waves of the raging seas.

To them, too, did the gods grant a boon: that, for seven days before
the shortest day of the year, and for seven days after it, there
should reign over the sea a great calm in which Halcyone, in her
floating nest, should hatch her young. And to those days of calm and
sunshine, the name of the Halcyon Days was given.

And still, as a storm approaches, the white-winged birds come flying
inland with shrill cries of warning to the mariners whose ships they
pass in their flight.

"Ceyx!" they cry. "Remember Ceyx!"

And hastily the fishermen fill their sails, and the smacks drive
homeward to the haven where the blue smoke curls upwards from the
chimneys of their homesteads, and where the red poppies are nodding
sleepily amongst the yellow corn.

* * * * *

_Note._--The kingfisher is commonly known as the real
"Halcyon" bird. Of it Socrates says: "The bird is not