
* A Project Gutenberg Canada Ebook *

This ebook is made available at no cost and with very few
restrictions. These restrictions apply only if (1) you make
a change in the ebook (other than alteration for different
display devices), or (2) you are making commercial use of
the ebook. If either of these conditions applies, please
check gutenberg.ca/links/licence.html before proceeding.

This work is in the Canadian public domain, but may be
under copyright in some countries. If you live outside
Canada, check your country's copyright laws.
IF THE BOOK IS UNDER COPYRIGHT IN YOUR COUNTRY,
DO NOT DOWNLOAD OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS FILE.

Title: The Mountain and the Sea
   [the sixth story in "A Little Book of Profitable Tales"]
Author: Field, Eugene (1850-1895)
Date of first publication: 1889
Edition used as base for this ebook:
   New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1894
Date first posted: 12 July 2010
Date last updated: 12 July 2010
Project Gutenberg Canada ebook #571

This ebook was produced by:
David Edwards, woodie4
& the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdpcanada.net

This file was produced from images generously made available
by the Internet Archive/American Libraries




THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SEA.


Once upon a time the air, the mountain, and the sea lived undisturbed
upon all the earth. The mountain alone was immovable; he stood always
here upon his rocky foundation, and the sea rippled and foamed at his
feet, while the air danced freely over his head and about his grim face.
It came to pass that both the sea and the air loved the mountain, but
the mountain loved the sea.

"Dance on forever, O air," said the mountain; "dance on and sing your
merry songs. But I love the gentle sea, who in sweet humility crouches
at my feet or playfully dashes her white spray against my brown bosom."

Now the sea was full of joy when she heard these words, and her thousand
voices sang softly with delight. But the air was filled with rage and
jealousy, and she swore a terrible revenge.

"The mountain shall not wed the sea," muttered the envious air. "Enjoy
your triumph while you may, O slumberous sister; I will steal you from
your haughty lover!"

And it came to pass that ever after that the air each day caught up huge
parts of the sea and sent them floating forever through the air in the
shape of clouds. So each day the sea receded from the feet of the
mountain, and her tuneful waves played no more around his majestic base.

"Whither art thou going, my love?" cried the mountain, in dismay.

"She is false to thee," laughed the air, mockingly. "She is going to
another love far away."

But the mountain would not believe it. He towered his head aloft and
cried more beseechingly than before: "Oh, whither art thou going, my
beloved? I do not hear thy sweet voice, nor do thy soft white arms
compass me about."

Then the sea cried out in an agony of helpless love. But the mountain
heard her not, for the air refused to bring the words she said.

"She is false!" whispered the air. "I alone am true to thee."

But the mountain believed her not. Day after day he reared his massive
head aloft and turned his honest face to the receding sea and begged her
to return; day after day the sea threw up her snowy arms and uttered the
wildest lamentations, but the mountain heard her not; and day by day the
sea receded farther and farther from the mountain's base. Where she once
had spread her fair surface appeared fertile plains and verdant groves
all peopled with living things, whose voices the air brought to the
mountain's ears in the hope that they might distract the mountain from
his mourning.

But the mountain would not be comforted; he lifted his sturdy head
aloft, and his sorrowing face was turned ever toward the fleeting object
of his love. Hills, valleys, forests, plains, and other mountains
separated them now, but over and beyond them all he could see her fair
face lifted pleadingly toward him, while her white arms tossed wildly to
and fro. But he did not know what words she said, for the envious air
would not bear her messages to him.

Then many ages came and went, until now the sea was far distant, so very
distant that the mountain could not behold her,--nay, had he been ten
thousand times as lofty he could not have seen her, she was so far away.
But still, as of old, the mountain stood with his majestic head high in
the sky, and his face turned whither he had seen her fading like a dream
away.

"Come back, come back, O my beloved!" he cried and cried.

And the sea, a thousand miles or more away, still thought forever of the
mountain. Vainly she peered over the western horizon for a glimpse of
his proud head and honest face. The horizon was dark. Her lover was far
beyond; forests, plains, hills, valleys, rivers, and other mountains
intervened. Her watching was as hopeless as her love.

"She is false!" whispered the air to the mountain. "She is false, and
she has gone to another lover. I alone am true!"

But the mountain believed her not. And one day clouds came floating
through the sky and hovered around the mountain's crest.

"Who art thou," cried the mountain,--"who art thou that thou fill'st me
with such a subtile consolation? Thy breath is like my beloved's, and
thy kisses are like her kisses."

"We come from the sea," answered the clouds. "She loves thee, and she
has sent us to bid thee be courageous, for she will come back to thee."

Then the clouds covered the mountain and bathed him with the glory of
the sea's true love. The air raged furiously, but all in vain. Ever
after that the clouds came each day with love-messages from the sea, and
oftentimes the clouds bore back to the distant sea the tender words the
mountain spoke.

And so the ages come and go, the mountain rearing his giant head aloft,
and his brown, honest face turned whither the sea departed; the sea
stretching forth her arms to the distant mountain and repeating his dear
name with her thousand voices.

Stand on the beach and look upon the sea's majestic calm and hear her
murmurings; or see her when, in the frenzy of her hopeless love, she
surges wildly and tosses her white arms and shrieks,--then you shall
know how the sea loves the distant mountain.

The mountain is old and sear; the storms have beaten upon his breast,
and great scars and seams and wrinkles are on his sturdy head and honest
face. But he towers majestically aloft, and he looks always toward the
distant sea and waits for her promised coming.

And so the ages come and go, but love is eternal.


1886.




[End of _The Mountain and the Sea_ by Eugene Field]
