However, I held my
peace, asked no questions, and patiently awaited the issue.

Northward, northward, still! And it came to pass that, one morning, I
found myself extended on the bank of a river. It was a beautiful morning
of early spring; small white clouds were floating in the heaven,
occasionally veiling the countenance of the sun, whose light, as they
retired, would again burst forth, coursing like a race-horse over the
scene--and a goodly scene it was! Before me, across the water, on an
eminence, stood a white old city, {65} surrounded with lofty walls, above
which rose the tops of tall houses, with here and there a church or
steeple. To my right hand was a long and massive bridge, with many
arches, and of antique architecture, which traversed the river. The
river was a noble one; the broadest that I had hitherto seen. Its
waters, of a greenish tinge, poured with impetuosity beneath the narrow
arches to meet the sea, close at hand, as the boom of the billows
breaking distinctly upon a beach declared. There were songs upon the
river from the fisher-barks; and occasionally a chorus, plaintive and
wild, such as I had never heard before, the words of which I did not
understand, but which, at the present time, down the long avenue of
years, seem in memory's ear to sound like "Horam, coram, dago." Several
robust fellows were near me, some knee-deep in water, employed in hauling
the seine upon the strand. Huge fish were struggling amidst the
meshes--princely salmon--their brilliant mail of blue and silver flashing
in the morning beam; so goodly and gay a scene, in truth, had never
greeted my boyish eye.

And, as I gazed upon the prospect, my bosom began to heave, and my tears
to trickle. Was it the beauty of the scene which gave rise to these
emotions? Possibly; for though a poor ignorant child--a half-wild
creature--I was not insensible to the loveliness of nature, and took
pleasure in the happiness and handiworks of my fellow-creatures. Yet,
perhaps, in something more deep and mysterious the feelings which then
pervaded me might originate. Who can lie down on Elvir Hill without
experiencing something of the sorcery of the place? Flee from Elvir
Hill, young swain, or the maids of Elle will have power over you, and you
will go elf-wild!--so say the Danes. I had unconsciously laid myself
down upon haunted ground; and I am willing to imagine that what I then
experienced was rather connected with the world o