When their hearts are so high
   That they would come to blows,
   They unhook their heavy swords
   From golden and silver boughs: 
   But all that are killed in battle
   Awaken to life again: 
   It is lucky that their story
   Is not known among men. 
   For O, the strong farmers
   That would let the spade lie,
   Their hearts would be like a cup
   That somebody had drunk dry.

   Michael will unhook his trumpet
   From a bough overhead,
   And blow a little noise
   When the supper has been spread. 
   Gabriel will come from the water
   With a fish tail, and talk
   Of wonders that have happened
   On wet roads where men walk,
   And lift up an old horn
   Of hammered silver, and drink
   Till he has fallen asleep
   Upon the starry brink.

Hanrahan had begun to climb the mountain then, and he gave over singing, for it was a long climb for him, and every now and again he had to sit down and to rest for a while.  And one time he was resting he took notice of a wild briar bush, with blossoms on it, that was growing beside a rath, and it brought to mind the wild roses he used to bring to Mary Lavelle, and to no woman after her.  And he tore off a little branch of the bush, that had buds on it and open blossoms, and he went on with his song: 

   The little fox he murmured,
   ‘O what of the world’s bane?’
   The sun was laughing sweetly,
   The moon plucked at my rein;
   But the little red fox murmured,
   ’O do not pluck at his rein,
   He is riding to the townland
   That is the world’s bane.’

And he went on climbing the hill, and left the rath, and there came to his mind some of the old poems that told of lovers, good and bad, and of some that were awakened from the sleep of the grave itself by the strength of one another’s love, and brought away to a life in some shadowy place, where they are waiting for the judgment and banished from the face of God.

And at last, at the fall of day, he came to the Steep Gap of the Strangers, and there he laid himself down along a ridge of rock, and looked into the valley, that was full of grey mist spreading from mountain to mountain.

And it seemed to him as he looked that the mist changed to shapes of shadowy men and women, and his heart began to beat with the fear and the joy of the sight.  And his hands, that were always restless, began to pluck off the leaves of the roses on the little branch, and he watched them as they went floating down into the valley in a little fluttering troop.