Nay, not one hath dreamed of the deep sleep of Angus g. He is the soul of the gods. And with that she blew a frith across the palm of her hand, and took away the deep immemorial age of the granite that was upon the Fair God. And Angus g passed away on the sunflood, weaving rainbows as he went, that were fair upon the hills of age and light within the valleys of sorrow, and were everywhere a wild, glad joy. Their period is set.
Oblivion is upon the march against their immemorial time.
But in the heart of Angus g blooms the Rose of Youth, whose beauty is everlasting. Yea, Time is the name of that rose, and Eternity the beauty and fragrance thereof.