We saw them pass by and we were saddened, for they were full of solemn majesty; overhead a chant came from celestial singers full of the agony of farewell and departure, and we knew from their song that the gods were about to leave the earth which would nevermore or for ages witness their coming.  The earth and the air around it seemed to tingle with anguish.  Shuddering we drew closer together on the hillside while the brightness of the Devas passed onward and away; and clear cold and bright as ever, the eternal constellations, which change or weep not, shone out, and we were alone with our sorrow.  To awed we were to speak, but we clung closer together and felt a comfort in each other; and so, crouched in silence; within me I heard as from far away a note of deeper anguish, like a horn blown out of the heart of the ancient Mother over a perished hero:  in a dread moment I saw the death and the torment; he was her soul-point, the light she wished to shine among men.  What would follow in the dark ages to come, rose up before me in shadowy, over-crowding pictures; like the surf of a giant ocean they fluctuated against the heavens, crested with dim, giantesque and warring figures.  I saw stony warriors rushing on to battle; I heard their fierce hard laughter as they rode over the trampled foe; I saw smoke arise from a horrible burning, and thicker and blacker grew the vistas, with here and there a glow from some hero-heart that kept the true light shining within.  I turned to Primaveeta who was crouched beside me:  he saw with me vision for vision, but, beyond the thick black ages that shut me out from hope, he saw the resurrection of the True, and the homecoming of the gods.  All this he told me later, but now our tears were shed together.  Then Primaveeta rose up and said, “Vyasa, where the lights were shining, where they fought for the True, there you and I must fight; for, from them spreads out the light of a new day that shall dawn behind the darkness.”  I saw that he was no longer a dreamer; his face was firm with a great resolve.  I could not understand him, but I determined to follow him, to fight for the things he fought for, to work with him, to live with him, to die with him; and so, thinking and trying to understand, my thought drifted back to that sadness of the mother which I had first felt.  I saw how we share joy or grief with her, and, seized with the inspiration of her sorrow, I sang about her loved one:—­

“Does the earth grow grey with grief
For her hero darling fled? 
Though her vales let fall no leaf,
In our hearts her tears are shed.

“Still the stars laugh on above,
Not to them her grief is said;
Mourning for her hero love
In our hearts her tears are shed.

“We her children mourn for him,
Mourn the elder hero dead;
In the twilight grey and dim
In our hearts the tears are shed.”

“Vyassa,” they said, “you will break our hearts.”  And we sat in silence and sorrow more complete till we heard weary voices calling up to us from the darkness below:  “Primaveeta!  Vyassa!  Chandra!  Parvati!  Vina!  Vasudeva!” calling all our names.  We went down to our homes in the valley; the breadth of glory had passed away from the world, and our hearts were full of the big grief that children hold.