Then he sighed and shook his head sadly.
"Why are you sad?" asked the poet.
Then Ernest told him of the prophecy which he had longed all his life to
see fulfilled. "And," he said, "when I read your beautiful words, I
think surely you are worthy to be the man I have longed to see, and yet
I see no likeness."
The poet sadly shook his head, and said: "No, Ernest. I am not worthy.
My words, indeed, may be beautiful, but my life has not been so great
and good as the words I write."
Then, as sunset drew near, the two walked to the little knoll where
Ernest was to talk to the people.
He stood in a little niche, with the mountains above him, and the glory
of the evening sun shone around his silvered hair. At a distance could
be seen the Great Stone Pace, surrounded by a golden light.
As Ernest talked his face glowed with the depth of his feeling, and
suddenly the poet threw his arms above his head and shouted:
"Behold! Behold! Ernest is himself the likeness of the Great Stone
Face!"
Then all the people looked and saw that what the poet had said was true.
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