The Scholar and the Poet

Said the serpent to the lark, “Thou flyest, yet thou canst not visit the

recesses of the earth where the sap of life moveth in perfect silence.”

And the lark answered, “Aye, thou knowest over much, nay thou art wiser

than all things wise--pity thou canst not fly.”

And as if he did not hear, the serpent said, “Thou canst not see the

secrets of the deep, nor move among the treasures of the hidden empire.

It was but yesterday I lay in a cave of rubies. It is like the heart of

a ripe pomegranate, and the faintest ray of light turns it into a

flame-rose. Who but me can behold such marvels?”

And the lark said, “None, none but thee can lie among the crystal

memories of the cycles: pity thou canst not sing.”

And the serpent said, “I know a plant whose root descends to the bowels

of the earth, and he who eats of that root becomes fairer than

Ashtarte.”

And the lark said, “No one, no one but thee could unveil the magic

thought of the earth--pity thou canst not fly.”

And the serpent said, “There is a purple stream that runneth under a

mountain, and he who drinketh of it shall become immortal even as the

gods. Surely no bird or beast can discover that purple stream.”

And the lark answered, “If thou willest thou canst become deathless even

as the gods--pity thou canst not sing.”

And the serpent said, “I know a buried temple, which I visit once a

moon: It was built by a forgotten race of giants, and upon its walls are

graven the secrets of time and space, and he who reads them shall

understand that which passeth all understanding.”

And the lark said, “Verily, if thou so desirest thou canst encircle with

thy pliant body all knowledge of time and space--pity thou canst not

fly.”

Then the serpent was disgusted, and as he turned and entered into his

hole he muttered, “Empty headed songster!”

And the lark flew away singing, “Pity thou canst not sing. Pity, pity,

my wise one, thou canst not fly.”