In this opening stanza, the story pulls us back to a primordial time—before the moon cast its shadow, before Carcosa, even before humanity’s discovery of fire. We meet the figure who would become known as the First Shepherd, a good man who loved his sheep so deeply that their bond transcended the physical. Together they dreamed, and in those dreams, he stood guard.
When nightmares threatened his flock, he discovered fire—not as a tool for cooking or hunting, but as a weapon of protection. Fire here is cast not as mankind’s first technology, but as a spiritual gift: a beacon to guard innocence against the darkness. This act transforms him from a simple caretaker into a mythic figure. The stanza closes on a warning—fire protects, but fire also burns. Its power is double-edged, foreshadowing the ambivalence of every gift that comes from beyond
