Phantastes, A Faerie Romance

"I did not expect you quite so soon," she said, as I shut the door

behind me. I went up to the couch, and threw myself on it with that

fatigue wherewith one awakes from a feverish dream of hopeless grief.

The old woman sang: The great sun, benighted,

May faint from the sky;

But love, once uplighted,

Will never more die.

Form, with its brightness,

From eyes will depart:

It walketh, in whiteness,

The halls of the heart.

Ere she had ceased singing, my courage had returned. I started from the

couch, and, without taking leave of the old woman, opened the door of

Sighs, and sprang into what should appear.

I stood in a lordly hall, where, by a blazing fire on the hearth, sat a

lady, waiting, I knew, for some one long desired. A mirror was near me,

but I saw that my form had no place within its depths, so I feared not

that I should be seen. The lady wonderfully resembled my marble lady,

but was altogether of the daughters of men, and I could not tell whether

or not it was she.

It was not for me she waited. The tramp of a great horse rang through

the court without. It ceased, and the clang of armour told that his

rider alighted, and the sound of his ringing heels approached the hall.

The door opened; but the lady waited, for she would meet her lord alone.

He strode in: she flew like a home-bound dove into his arms, and nestled

on the hard steel. It was the knight of the soiled armour. But now the

armour shone like polished glass; and strange to tell, though the mirror

reflected not my form, I saw a dim shadow of myself in the shining

steel.

"O my beloved, thou art come, and I am blessed."

Her soft fingers speedily overcame the hard clasp of his helmet; one by

one she undid the buckles of his armour; and she toiled under the

weight of the mail, as she WOULD carry it aside. Then she unclasped

his greaves, and unbuckled his spurs; and once more she sprang into

his arms, and laid her head where she could now feel the beating of his

heart. Then she disengaged herself from his embrace, and, moving back a

step or two, gazed at him. He stood there a mighty form, crowned with a

noble head, where all sadness had disappeared, or had been absorbed in

solemn purpose. Yet I suppose that he looked more thoughtful than

the lady had expected to see him, for she did not renew her caresses,

although his face glowed with love, and the few words he spoke were

as mighty deeds for strength; but she led him towards the hearth, and

seated him in an ancient chair, and set wine before him, and sat at his

feet.