254 
MESSRS. A. ROSE AND J. COGGIN BROWN ON 
ing no more, and so he hardly escaped and was brought at last safe back to earth 
again. 
As the story wears on the younger boys and girls show signs of restlessness, look- 
ing evidently to some faster and more furious fun. Fresh 
Lisu Dauce. 
logs are brought in and piled on the fire whilst a guitar 
and bamboo Jew’s harp are lightly touched in a low and not untuneful measure. 
Gradually the lines form, boys and girls locking their fingers together or throwing their 
arms round each others’ shoulders and swaying their bodies to the rhythm of the 
music, as the old blind man and an old dame in turn lead them in a chant. “ Alas 
the great Lords will leave us,” sings the leader, and the whole group rejoins, their 
voices rising higher and the measure moving faster as they circle round the fire , slowly 
at first, then with growing enthusiasm as the logs blaze brighter on their flushed faces, 
their bright dresses and silver ornaments, till at last they are singing and circling in a 
glory of revelry, the wildest, weirdest dance well set in that background of dark 
peaks and fire-lit pines. The fire dies down, the last cup of wine is drained and the 
revellers vanish into the night silently and unexpectedly as they had come, whilst we 
are left alone by the dying embers. At our feet the ranges stand dimly outlined against 
the infinite blue of the night, and the sweet influences of the Pleiades and the bands of 
Orion look down upon the Ifisu village with its festivals and its struggles as peacefully 
as they have regarded the ways of men from the beginning of time. 
The minstrel is charged with the theme, and weaves into his legend such wander- 
ing thoughts as the occasion suggests or as the inspiration 
Lisu Songs. . . 
of his muse dictates. Distant as is the village of these 
songs from any great stream , their festivals carry them at once to their early home at 
the head of the waters of the mighty Salween, and there is evidently a wild poetry 
in these highland minstrels which can produce so beautiful a simile as that of the 
two converging streams sung in the chant below : — 
First Chanty .' 
Alas, alas the great Lords will leave us. 
Great are the strangers from afar 
Now come to our mountain homes. 
Let their names be our song. 
Let our welcome be warm though our gifts be poor. 
When they came fortune smiled : 
In our song, in our dance, hail our guests. 
Long years ago from the swift-running river, 
From the head of its waters our ancestors came. 
But now we are scattered far over the land. 
In the beginning man was created by the Pleavenly Lord ; 
A brother and sister were made to inhabit the earth. 
I The vvord6 of these songs ar literally translated from the Lisu, as given by the old singer. 
