through the crowd, neither turning to the left nor
to the right, as the crowd gave way; and he supported his steps with a
staff of the knotted pine.

And when he came to the place where the chiefs were met, and the two
princes stood in the centre, he bade the people around him proclaim
silence.

Then mounting on a huge fragment of rock, he thus spake to the
multitude:

"Princes, wantons and bards! ye, O council of the wise men! and ye, O
hunters of the forests, and snarers of the fishes of the streams! harken
to Morven, the son of Osslah.

"Ye know that I am lowly of race, and weak of limb; but did I not give
into your hands the tribe of Alrich, and did ye not slay them in the
dead of night with a great slaughter?

"Surely, ye must know that this of himself did not the herdsman's son;
surely he was but the agent of the bright gods that love the children of
Oestrich.

"Three nights since, when slumber was on the earth, was not my voice
heard in the streets?

"Did I not proclaim woe to the kingly house of Oestrich? and verily the
dark arm had fallen on the bosom of the mighty, that is no more.

"Could I have dreamed this thing merely in a dream, or was I not as the
voice of the bright gods that watch over the tribes of Oestrich?

"Wherefore, O men and chiefs! scorn not the son of Osslah, but listen to
his words; for are they not the wisdom of the stars?

"Behold, last night, I sat alone in the valley, and the trees were
hushed around, and not a breath stirred; and I looked upon the star that
counsels the son of Osslah; and I said:

"'Dread conqueror of the cloud! thou that bathest thy beauty in the
streams and piercest the pine-boughs with thy presence; behold thy
servant grieved because the mighty one hath passed away, and many foes
surround the houses of my brethren; and it is well that they should have
a king valiant and prosperous in war, the cherished of the stars.

"'Wherefore, O star! as thou gavest into our hands the warriors
of Alrich, and didst warn us of the fall of the oak of our tribe,
wherefore, I pray thee, give unto the people a token that they may
choose that king whom the gods of the night prefer!'

"Then a low voice sweeter than the music of the bard, stole along the
silence.

"'Thy love for thy race is grateful to the stars of night: go then, son
of Osslah, and seek the meeting of the chiefs and the people to choose a
king, and tell them not to scorn thee because thou art slow to the