,
but I remember now. Go and look at the fields I ploughed. The furrows
are straight. I forgot that I was a God, but I drew the plough
perfectly straight, for all that. And you, brother?"

"I am not at the end of the ploughing," said Leo. "Does Death hurt?"

"No; but dying does," said the Bull, and he died. The cultivator who
then owned him was much annoyed, for there was a field still
unploughed.

It was after this that Leo made the Song of the Bull who had been a
God and forgotten the fact, and he sang it in such a manner that half
the young men in the world conceived that they too might be Gods
without knowing it. A half of that half grew impossibly conceited, and
died early. A half of the remainder strove to be Gods and failed, but
the other half accomplished four times more work than they would have
done under any other delusion.

Later, years later, always wandering up and down, and making the
children of men laugh, he found the Twins sitting on the bank of a
stream waiting for the Fishes to come and carry them away. They were
not in the least afraid, and they told Leo that the woman of the House
had a real baby of her own, and that when that baby grew old enough to
be mischievous he would find a well-educated cat waiting to have its
tail pulled. Then the Fishes came for them, but all that the people
saw was two children drowning in a brook; and though their
foster-mother was very sorry, she hugged her own real baby to her
breast, and was grateful that it was only the foundlings.

Then Leo made the Song of the Twins who had forgotten that they were
Gods, and had played in the dust to amuse a foster-mother. That song
was sung far and wide among the women. It caused them to laugh and cry
and hug their babies closer to their hearts all in one breath; and
some of the women who remembered the Girl said: "Surely that is the
voice of Virgo. Only she could know so much about ourselves."

After those three songs were made, Leo sang them over and over again,
till he was in danger of looking upon them as so many mere words, and
the people who listened grew tired, and there came back to Leo the
old temptation to stop singing once and for all. But he remembered the
Girl's dying words and went on.

One of his listeners interrupted him as he was singing. "Leo," said
he, "I have heard you telling us not to be afraid for the past forty
years. Can you not sing something new now?"

"No," said Leo; "it is the only song that