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THE SAYINGS OF LIMPANG-TUNG
(The God of Mirth and of Melodious Minstrels)
And Limpang-Tung said: "The ways of the gods are strange. The
flower groweth up and the flower fadeth away. This may be very
clever of the gods. Man groweth from his infancy, and in a while
he dieth. This may be very clever too.
"But the gods play with a strange scheme.
"I will send jests into the world and a little mirth. And while
Death seems to thee as far away as the purple rim of hills; or
sorrow as far off as rain in the blue days of summer, then pray to
Limpang-Tung. But when thou growest old, or ere thou diest, pray
not of Limpang-Tung, for thou becomest part of a scheme that he
doth not understand.
"Go out into the starry night, and Limpang-Tung will dance with
thee who danced since the gods were young, the god of mirth and of
melodious minstrels. Or offer up a jest to Limpang-Tung; only pray
not in thy sorrow to Limpang-Tung, for he saith of sorrow: 'It may
be very clever of the gods,' but he doth not understand."
And Limpang-Tung said: "I am lesser than the gods; pray,
therefore, to the small gods and not to Limpang-Tung.
"Natheless between Pegana and the Earth flutter ten thousand
thousand prayers that beat their wings against the face of Death,
and never for one of them hath the hand of the Striker been
stayed, nor yet have tarried the feet of the Relentless One.
"Utter thy prayer! It may accomplish where failed ten thousand
thousand.
"Limpang-Tung is lesser than the gods, and doth not understand."
And Limpang-Tung said: "Lest men grow weary down on the great
Worlds through gazing always at a changeless sky, I will paint my
pictures in the sky. And I will paint them twice in every day for
so long as days shall be. Once as the day ariseth out of the homes
of dawn will I paint the Blue, that men may see and rejoice; and
ere day falleth under into the night will I paint upon the Blue
again, lest men be sad.
"It is a little," said Limpang-Tung, "it is a little even for a
god to give some pleasure to men upon the Worlds."
And Limpang-Tung hath sworn that the pictures that he paints shall
never be the same for so long as the days shall be, and this he
hath sworn by the oath of the gods of Pegana that the gods may
never break, laying his hand upon the shoulder of each of the gods
and swearing by the light behind Their eyes.
Limpang-Tung hath lured a melody out of the stream and stolen its
anthem from the forest; for him the wind hath cried in lonely places
and the ocean sung its dirges. There is music for Limpang-Tung in
the sounds of the moving of grass and in the voices of the people
that lament or in the cry of them that rejoice.
In an inner mountain land where none hath come he hath carved his
organ pipes out of the mountains, and there when the winds, his
servants, come in from all the world he maketh the melody of
Limpang-Tung. But the song, arising at night, goeth forth like a
river, winding through all the world, and here and there amid the
peoples of earth one heareth, and straightaway all that hath voice
to sing crieth aloud in music to his soul.
Or sometimes walking through the dusk with steps unheard by men,
in a form unseen by the people, Limpang-Tung goeth abroad, and,
standing behind the minstrels in cities of song, waveth his hands
above them to and fro, and the minstrels bend to their work, and
the voice of the music ariseth; and mirth and melody abound in
that city of song, and no one seeth Limpang-Tung as he standeth
behind the minstrels.
But through the mists towards morning, in the dark when the
minstrels sleep and mirth and melody have sunk to rest, Limpang-Tung
goeth back again to his mountain land.
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