"Yet does this moonlight dance, which is the chief glory of the House of
Coradine, grow pale in the mind, and is speedily forgotten, when another
is seen; and, going on our way from house to house, we learn how
everywhere the various riches of the world have been taken into his soul
by man, and made part of his life. Nor are we inferior to others, having
also an art and chief excellence which is ours only, and the fame of
which has long gone forth into the world; so that from many distant
lands pilgrims gather yearly to our fields to listen to our harvest
melody, when the sun-ripened fruits have been garnered, and our lips and
hands make undying music, to gladden the hearts of those that hear it
all their lives long. For then do we rejoice beyond others, rising like
bright-winged insects from our lowly state to a higher life of glory and
joy, which is ours for the space of three whole days. Then the august
Mother, in a brazen chariot, is drawn from field to field by milk-white
bulls with golden horns; then her children are gathered about her in
shining yellow garments, with armlets of gold upon their arms; and with
voice and instruments of forms unknown to the stranger, they make glad
the listening fields with the great harvest melody.
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