LIFE was a radiant maiden, the daughter of the Sun, endowed with all the charm and grace, all the power and happiness, which only such a mother could give to her child. Her hairs were sunbeams, her eyes gleaming stars. Flowers dropped from her hands, seeds sprang into life from beneath her footsteps; sweet scents and songs of birds floated around her; from her lips uncounted songs welled forth. Sounds like the gurgling of a thousand streams were heard from out her garments, and yet they were only made of flower petals and covered with tender webs, in which numberless dew-drops twinkled. Glow-worms encircled the royal brow like a diadem; birds bore her train over rough paths. When her foot touched thorns they grew green and blossomed; when she laid her soft hand upon the bare rock it became covered with moss and fern. The Sun had bestowed on her glorious child power over all things, and as companions and playfellows she had given to her Happiness and Love. In those days there was much joy and blessedness on earth, and no pen can recount, no pencil paint, how glorious it all was. It was just one eternal May day, and the august mother looked down from afar upon her daughter's glad games, and blessed the earth upon which her child was so happy.

But deep down in the earth there lived an evil spirit called Strife. The Kobolds brought him news of all the beauty that was outside, and of the young sovereign who reigned so proudly and lovingly over the whole world, and who played so sweetly with Happiness and Love. First he was angry at the tidings, for he desired to be sole ruler of all things; but after a while a great curiosity took hold of him—and something beside, something hot and wild, he knew not himself what. Only he wanted to get outside at all costs. So he began to move a mighty rock from the center of the earth, and he cast it up on high. Then he kindled a great fire, so that all the rocks and the metals above him melted and poured their glowing, scorching streams over the paradise of earth. And in the midst of these flames Strife rose up, clothed in dazzling armor, with flowing locks and contracted brows. In his hands he held a great block of stone, and he peered around him with his piercing black eyes, seeking what he should destroy first. But of a sudden he let fall the rock, crossed his arms over his breast, and stared down upon the garden of earth, like one in a dream. He stood thus a long, long while, gazing down, silent with wonder, like to a statue. Suddenly he struck his brow with his fist.

"What! I have lived down there, among cold stones, in the darkness, and outside is such beauty! What must the sovereign be like to whom all this belongs?"

The thought brought life once more into this Titanic figure. He stepped with giant strides down into the blooming, scented world, treading through it like a storm-wind, stamping down the flowers, breaking down the trees, without knowing it. He must find the mistress of all this fair earth. He even passed across the sea, making it pile up waves tower high, and once more he climbed a lofty mountain, in his hot impatience to gain a survey. Then he saw upon a meadow-side that which he sought so ardently. Resting her foot upon cloudy, silver-feathered flower seeds, her garments gathered up around her, Life was floating by upon her journey from flower to flower, singing as she went. Upon her shoulders twittered a pair of birds; upon her finger she bore a bee, to whom she showed where the best honey lay hid. She had left Love behind her in a wood, busy building a nest, while Happiness was sleeping upon a mossy bed beside a waterfall after having played antics innumerable. Therefore Life was floating forth alone, singing a morning carol to her mother the Sun. Of a sudden she beheld something gleam and glitter in front of her, and when she raised her eyes, she saw Strife planted before her, gazing at her fixedly. His bright armor reflected her glistening tresses. Life quailed at the sight of this mighty man with the burning eyes, her foot slipped from its seed-cloud, which sped on without her. She would have fallen had she not grasped a birch branch and slid herself down by it upon a mossy rock.

"Aha!" cried Strife, "have I found you at last, you who dispute my empire, you who wield the scepter here on earth? Who are you, little maiden, who venture upon such liberties?"

These haughty words restored to Life all her pride and loftiness.

"I am the child of the Sun, and the earth is mine; it was given to me by my royal mother, and all bends before my power."

Speaking thus she threw back her fair head proudly, so that the Sun lighted up all her face. Strife saw it and was drunk with love.

"If I overcome you so that you are mine, then you and the earth will both belong to me."

"Try," said Life, "I am stronger than you."

"I am to wrestle with you, you tender flower! Well, if I do so I must put aside my armor, or I shall crush you."

And he did so, laying his shield and armor upon the grass. Then he sprang at her to encircle her waist and to lift her into the air. But at that moment roses sprang forth from her girdle, and their thorns pricked him so sharply that he had to let her go. He tried to catch her by the hair, but this scorched him. Then he tore off his golden chain and tried to bind her hands with it. She only bowed her head; then the chain melted in his grasp. Suddenly he felt his wrists clasped by her tender fingers. He tried to shake her off, but she would not let go. He lifted her from the ground; she only floated but would not let him loose, and as often as she grew weary the Sun gave her new strength. Then he strove to draw her under the shade of the trees; but these inclined to one side that the Sun might protect her darling. A whole day did this wrestling last. At last Strife saw that the Sun inclined towards setting, and though she lingered she had to depart. Then Life lost her strength, but Strife grew doubly strong. He shook her off and rushed upon her. Soon her garments lay torn upon the sward, her hair lost its scorching might, and before dawn broke the chaste maiden knelt trembling and red with shame upon the earth, entreating forbearance and mercy with sobs and tears. At this Strife set up a laugh that made the earth quake, and the rocks re-echoed it like to pealing thunder.

Terrified, Life sank to earth in a swoon. Strife raised her high in air in his mighty arms and bore her away. Her lovely head was bent back, her hair swept the ground, her lips were half opened as though no breath were in them, the wondrous limbs that had resisted him so long hung faint and powerless, and wherever he bore her there the grass faded, the leaves decayed and fell from off the trees, and there blew a storm wind that froze the limbs of Life.

"Wait," said Strife, and he covered her with kisses; "you shall warm at my fires. Only I must hide you from the Sun or I shall lose you again."

And he vanished with her into the mountains.

The whole earth grew barren and desolate, the birds sang no more, the flowers drooped, only on the spot where Life had sunk down fainting there bloomed some crocuses; but even these could not endure. The Sun grew pale with grief, and wept and beckoned with a white sheet that fell upon the earth and dispersed into thousands of tiny fragments, while the mountains upon which Strife's armor had lain became ice for all time.

When Love and Happiness found that they had lost Life they began to roam the world in search of her, asking all things after their beloved companion. They no longer recognized their earth garden in its changed form, and they wept bitterly. They wandered past hill and dale, alongside the rivers that lay frozen and ice-clad, and they called aloud for Life, for they deemed that they must find her. One day they leant wearily against a tall rock, when of a sudden they heard a sound within it as of gurgling waters. Flushed with joy they looked at one another and both exclaimed: "Here she is, here; we hear sounds of Life," and they began to touch the rock and to call and listen round about it, until they found an opening whence a spring gushed forth. Softly they called "Life," and there she stood before them, joyless, downcast, with weary steps, laying her finger upon her lips.

"My lord slumbers, do not wake him," she whispered sadly.

"Dear Life, come out with us; your garden is bare, your mother is pale, and we have roamed so long in search of you. Oh, come forth once more."

And they drew Life forth with them, and as she took the first step outside snowdrops peeped up, and at her next step violets bloomed, and as she laid her weary hand upon a tree the buds swelled and broke into leaf.

"Behold," cried Love and Happiness, "you still have your old might. Oh, do be joyous! Look up at the Sun that she, too, may laugh."

But when the Sun saw her child so weak and weary, she could not refrain from weeping, though she strove to smile and warm her daughter with her hot rays. Again and again she had to press her cloud-sheet before her eyes, and then her tears dropped down upon the earth. Life still crept along, but wearily. Then came a swallow.

"Hold on to my wings, dear Life; I will bear you a bit;" and thus she once more floated through the blue air, until the swallow was tired. Then the stork came and said—

"Kneel on my back and put your arms round my neck; I will carry you further."

And he bore her far, far, and wherever he alighted a babe was born, and Love and Happiness followed in their wake, and dwelt beside the child. And the whole earth grew green and bright. The birds sang again, and every sunbeam gave new power to Life, so that once more she could stand on the mountain tops, a blooming, splendid woman, full of grace and majesty, with earnest eyes and serious mouth, her hands filled with the fruits that should make rich the world.

But deep down in the earth, Strife who had awoke long ago, sought for his absent wife. He stormed out into the world, and every where he beheld her traces, but herself he could not find. How many of her gifts did he not destroy in his wild haste! Sometimes he would halt puzzled, piercing the distance with his stern looks. Ay, he was near despairing, for she, from whom he could no longer live apart, fled from him ever. Now a tree hid her with his foliage, now a bird in his nest, now a flower beneath its leaves, now the mist in its veil; and if he came too near to her an eagle would bear her on his pinions up to the Sun, until Strife had swept past below, when she returned endowed with new power and glory. But at last, at last, he did catch sight of her as she was pressing a vine wreath upon the locks of Happiness, and sending a gleam from her forehead into the eyes of Love. Then he stepped before her, looked at her and beckoned. He must have done something to her, for of pride and resistance there was no longer a trace. He strode before her without looking round, and she bowed her lovely head and followed him; and when her comrades would have held her back, she only beckoned with her hand, and stepped after him silently, wrapped in robes of mist that swept the falling leaves, and was like to an echo of the gurgling that had once sounded in her robes. She went into the mountain, bearing with her fruits and grapes, that the Kobolds pressed into wine with which they made to themselves merry days.

And she brought forth two children, a boy and a maid. Both were very pale, and had large dark eyes. The boy had something wild about him, like his father, the maid was tender like her mother; she was named Sorrow, but he was called Death. Sorrow did not remain long in her rocky home. She had inherited from her mother a yearning for earth, and from her father a ceaseless unrest. So she wandered ever backwards and forwards upon the earth, and never returned to her home. The boy followed now his father, now his mother, now his sister, and he made all still and dead upon their paths; the birds grew still and dead, the ears of corn grew empty, the children pale; still and dead all who struggled and suffered.

His mother could only behold him with a shudder; he inspired his father with malicious joy, but only his sister loved him. She ever called him to her, and wept when he would not come. One day he said to Sorrow, "I must kill my mother; ay, if she only looks at me she is dead. But she ever turns aside from me."

Sorrow was terrified at these words, and did all in her power to turn the mother's gaze from the son. But she ever felt his might, and could no longer play with Love and Happiness as formerly. They both, too, feared Life's awful son even more than her grim spouse, for over him they had learnt to exert a certain power; he grew quieter in their presence. But Death remained ever inexorable; his glance now scorching like the simoon, now numbing like the north; even the Sun lost her strength before this terrible boy, for he laid night upon all eyelids, and froze all things living.

Since that time there is an end of the earth's paradise. That is why Life is no longer a radiant maiden, but a grave woman, full of useful power, of stern demands on that which she has created. She cannot forget how fair all was once, and fain would see it thus again, notwithstanding Strife and Sorrow and Death. She would fain be stronger than all these three, and yet she must succumb and begin again anew, to succumb again, ever and ever.