Chapter Chapter 16 · Chapter XVI

. Chapter XVI

“Ev’n the Styx, which ninefold her infoldeth

Hems not Ceres’ daughter in its flow;

But she grasps the apple—ever holdeth

Her, sad Orcus, down below.”

SCHILLER, _Das Ideal und das Leben_.

Ever as I sang, the veil was uplifted; ever as I sang, the signs of

life grew; till, when the eyes dawned upon me, it was with that sunrise

of splendour which my feeble song attempted to re-imbody.

The wonder is, that I was not altogether overcome, but was able to

complete my song as the unseen veil continued to rise. This ability

came solely from the state of mental elevation in which I found myself.

Only because uplifted in song, was I able to endure the blaze of the

dawn. But I cannot tell whether she looked more of statue or more of

woman; she seemed removed into that region of phantasy where all is

intensely vivid, but nothing clearly defined. At last, as I sang of her

descending hair, the glow of soul faded away, like a dying sunset. A

lamp within had been extinguished, and the house of life shone blank in

a winter morn. She was a statue once more—but visible, and that was

much gained. Yet the revulsion from hope and fruition was such, that,

unable to restrain myself, I sprang to her, and, in defiance of the law

of the place, flung my arms around her, as if I would tear her from the

grasp of a visible Death, and lifted her from the pedestal down to my

heart. But no sooner had her feet ceased to be in contact with the

black pedestal, than she shuddered and trembled all over; then,

writhing from my arms, before I could tighten their hold, she sprang

into the corridor, with the reproachful cry, “You should not have

touched me!” darted behind one of the exterior pillars of the circle,

and disappeared. I followed almost as fast; but ere I could reach the

pillar, the sound of a closing door, the saddest of all sounds

sometimes, fell on my ear; and, arriving at the spot where she had

vanished, I saw, lighted by a pale yellow lamp which hung above it, a

heavy, rough door, altogether unlike any others I had seen in the

palace; for they were all of ebony, or ivory, or covered with

silver-plates, or of some odorous wood, and very ornate; whereas this

seemed of old oak, with heavy nails and iron studs. Notwithstanding the

precipitation of my pursuit, I could not help reading, in silver

letters beneath the lamp: “_No one enters here without the leave of the

Queen_.” But what was the Queen to me, when I followed my white lady? I

dashed the door to the wall and sprang through. Lo! I stood on a waste

windy hill. Great stones like tombstones stood all about me. No door,

no palace was to be seen. A white figure gleamed past me, wringing her

hands, and crying, “Ah! you should have sung to me; you should have

sung to me!” and disappeared behind one of the stones. I followed. A

cold gust of wind met me from behind the stone; and when I looked, I

saw nothing but a great hole in the earth, into which I could find no

way of entering. Had she fallen in? I could not tell. I must wait for

the daylight. I sat down and wept, for there was no help.