the Moon, flew high and swift (by deeper magic still)
the Fairy spirits of Africa.
The shy in-dwellers of every ashorin, baobab,
and mahogany, winged-friend of each river, of ev-
ery bird, beast and insect, were wafted away on the
Southern Trades, and fluttered down, like a windfall
of butterflies, far from the tribal warfare and slave
traders, upon the islands of the Carribees and the
New World’s eastern shore.
And from Hellas itself, then vanished at last the
few surviving Centaurs, Satyrs, and Nymphs, sad
scattered remnants of the glory that was Greece.
They were transported, willed away to the Islands of
the Blest-the Hesperides-by the final act of their
dying patron, Pan.
Thus, we are told, did the First Age of the Old
World come to its end: with the departure of Twelve
Nations of Fairy. (The Hill Folk of Scotland and
Ireland were, in fact, near cousins and of a single
And no sooner had the Twelve established them-
selves in the New World, than they were joined
there by a Thirteenth.
On the first morning of the first spring day,
appeared, shining in the air, slender, golden people.
Their garments were of richest silk, filigreed with
serpents and flowering vines of silver. A tall, laugh-
ing archer was among them-Prince Yi, the


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