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Excerpt from Children of Earth
Earth, who moulds and builds the destinies of those who lean on her bosom, stretched her powers to the utmost. Maolan lies set in the Atlantic; and, loosed from that desert of waters, the winds fell upon it in a fury of rage. Fury it was, not play; or, if play, then a play like the onset of heroes. The torn and tangled rocks lying along the margin of the coast were jagged with the memory of many such issues; and now the waves that thundered upon them were shivered with spray that, caught by the howling wind, was borne like a flung mane far inland, racing in froth and spume over the bogs where the noise of the impact could not penetrate, to be caught finally on bowed bog-grass or wailing heather in memory of the god whose salt spittle it was. The headland of Gob Ge, where the bog was of the finest black, was covered with the spume as though it had snowed. A few curlew and sea-pie momentarily ventured to fly along beneath sheltering banks in search of better cover; to be twisted away down the bog, if by any chance the wind caught them, until they could recover their balance and sweep to earth again. Save for such surreptitious signs, there was no hint of life to be seen anywhere. Earth rose dominant over the Life she had bred and, in hardihood, nurtured; she quelled Life by the riot of her play-mood; and her revelry was wild with the strange madness of battle.
Over the waste of waters the grey ruining clouds had for a moment broken to display a saffron and stormy sunset. The foamy heads of the waves, as in tossing mountains they rushed forward to meet the challenge of the rocks, became touched with a dull glow while the saffron-edged bars of clouds revealed the horizon just below them.
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