bour's breast,
Over the sea of his dream's unrest;

Shone like the wondrous, nameless boon,
That the heart seeks ever, night or noon:

Warnings forgotten, when needed most,
He clasped to his bosom the radiant ghost.

She wailed aloud, and faded, and sank.
With upturn'd white face, cold and blank,

In his arms lay the corpse of the maiden pale,
And she came no more to Sir Aglovaile.

Only a voice, when winds were wild,
Sobbed and wailed like a chidden child.

Alas, how easily things go wrong!
A sigh too much, or a kiss too long,
And there follows a mist and a weeping rain,
And life is never the same again.

This was one of the simplest of her songs, which, perhaps, is the cause
of my being able to remember it better than most of the others. While
she sung, I was in Elysium, with the sense of a rich soul upholding,
embracing, and overhanging mine, full of all plenty and bounty. I felt
as if she could give me everything I wanted; as if I should never wish
to leave her, but would be content to be sung to and fed by her, day
after day, as years rolled by. At last I fell asleep while she sang.

When I awoke, I knew not whether it was night or day. The fire had sunk
to a few red embers, which just gave light enough to show me the woman
standing a few feet from me, with her back towards me, facing the
door by which I had entered. She was weeping, but very gently and
plentifully. The tears seemed to come freely from her heart. Thus she
stood for a few minutes; then, slowly turning at right angles to her
former position, she faced another of the four sides of the cottage.
I now observed, for the first time, that here was a door likewise; and
that, indeed, there was one in the centre of every side of the cottage.

When she looked towards the second door, her tears ceased to flow, but
sighs took their place. She often closed her eyes as she stood; and
every time she closed her eyes, a gentle sigh seemed to be born in her
heart, and to escape at her lips. But when her eyes were open, her
sighs were deep and very sad, and shook her whole frame. Then she turned
towards the third door, and a cry as of fear or suppressed pain broke
from her; but she seemed to hearten herself against the dismay, and
to front it steadily; for, although I ofte