a lifetime seems to realise an ecstasy of happiness
so perfect that one dares not wake lest, by waking, the wings of one's
realised ideal should slip between grasping fingers and so escape
forever, so did Endymion realise the kiss of the goddess. But before
his sleepy eyes could be his senses' witnesses, Diana had hastened
away. Endymion, springing to his feet, saw only his sleeping flock,
nor did his dogs awake when he heard what seemed to him to be the
baying of hounds in full cry in a forest far up the mountain. Only to
his own heart did he dare to whisper what was this wonderful thing
that he believed had befallen him, and although he laid himself
down, hoping that once again this miracle might be granted to him, no
miracle came; nor could he sleep, so great was his longing.

[Illustration: SHE CHECKED HER HOUNDS, AND STOOD BESIDE ENDYMION]

All the next day, through the sultry hours while Apollo drove his
chariot of burnished gold through the land, Endymion, as he watched
his flocks, tried to dream his dream once more, and longed for the day
to end and the cool, dark night to return. When night came he tried to
lie awake and see what might befall, but when kind sleep had closed
his tired eyes,

"There came a lovely vision of a maid,
Who seemed to step as from a golden car
Out of the low-hung moon."

Lewis Morris.

Always she kissed him, yet when her kiss awoke him he never could see
anything more tangible than a shaft of silver moonlight on the moving
bushes of the mountain side, never hear anything more real than the
far-away echo of the baying of pursuing hounds, and if, with eager,
greatly-daring eyes, he looked skywards, a dark cloud, so it seemed to
him, would always hasten to hide the moon from his longing gaze.

In this manner time passed on. The days of Endymion were filled by
longing day-dreams. His sleeping hours ever brought him ecstasy. Ever,
too, to the goddess, the human being that she loved seemed to her to
grow more precious. For her all the joy of day and of night was
concentrated in the moments she spent by the side of the sleeping
Endymion. The flocks of the shepherd flourished like those of no other
herd. No wild beast dared come near them; no storm nor disease
assailed them. Yet for Endymion the things of earth no longer held any
value. He lived only for his dear dream's sake. Had he been permitted
to grow old and worn and tired, and still a dreamer, who knows how his