auties fade away;
'T was wo to him, but bliss to me--
It made him sad, while I was gay.

"But I shall never see him more,
Nor share with him my life's dear lot;
Sweet youth, whose memory I adore--
Forget me not! forget me not!"

These words, sung to a sweet, melancholy melody, equally excited the
sympathy and wonder of the prince. The idea of a young lady being
delighted at seeing the face of her lover wither, and his body waste
away, he thought did little credit to the heart of woman; and that
what made him sad should make her gay, appeared to show a great want
of sympathy. As to the "little scaly imp," he could make nothing of
it. Still there was that in the song which seemed to bear some strange
allusion to his own peculiar situation; and his curiosity became so
excited, that without reflecting on the impropriety of his conduct, or
its consequences, he, as it were, impelled by an involuntary yet
irresistible impulse, advanced in the direction whence the voice
proceeded.

Passing through a long winding avenue bordered by beds of violets, and
overshadowed by lofty trees, he at length came to a bower of
clambering vines entwined with each other, at the further extremity of
which, seated on a bank of flowers, he beheld a female figure, her
cheek resting on her hand, and tears flowing from her eyes. He gazed
on her face, which was turned toward the heavens, and shuddered as he
recognized an exact likeness of the phantom beauty he had seen at the
side of the enchanter's chair. He sought to retreat, but continued to
advance by an irresistible impulse, until the lady, at the sound of
his footsteps, looked toward him. The moment she saw the prince she
uttered a piercing shriek, at the same time rushing forward with
extended arms, and a face glowing with joyous welcome. Then, as if
suddenly recollecting herself, she hastily retired, and sunk down on
the seat, her cheek glowing with blushes. The prince continued to
advance, controlled by an influence he could not withstand, and coming
up to her, apologized as well as the confusion of his mind would
permit, for his unceremonious intrusion.

The lady remained gazing at him, with mingled smiles and blushes, for
a few moments, and then addressed the prince in words that seemed to
come from a mouth of roses.

"Don't you know me, my prince?"

"Know you," faltered he, "I believe--I fear--I know you but too well.
You are the phantom beauty. The chosen