Phantastes, A Faerie Romance

Groping my way further, I stumbled over the heavy stone that covered the

entrance of the vault: and, in stumbling, descried upon the stone the

mark, glowing in red fire. I caught the great ring. All my effort could

not have moved the huge slab; but it opened the door of the cottage, and

I threw myself once more, pale and speechless, on the couch beside the

ancient dame. She sang once more: Thou dreamest: on a rock thou art,

High o'er the broken wave;

Thou fallest with a fearful start

But not into thy grave;

For, waking in the morning's light,

Thou smilest at the vanished night So wilt thou sink, all pale and dumb,

Into the fainting gloom;

But ere the coming terrors come,

Thou wak'st--where is the tomb?

Thou wak'st--the dead ones smile above,

With hovering arms of sleepless love.

She paused; then sang again: We weep for gladness, weep for grief;

The tears they are the same;

We sigh for longing, and relief;

The sighs have but one name, And mingled in the dying strife,

Are moans that are not sad

The pangs of death are throbs of life,

Its sighs are sometimes glad.

The face is very strange and white:

It is Earth's only spot

That feebly flickers back the light

The living seeth not.

I fell asleep, and slept a dreamless sleep, for I know not how

long. When I awoke, I found that my hostess had moved from where she had

been sitting, and now sat between me and the fourth door.

I guessed that her design was to prevent my entering there. I sprang

from the couch, and darted past her to the door. I opened it at once and

went out. All I remember is a cry of distress from the woman: "Don't go

there, my child! Don't go there!" But I was gone.

I knew nothing more; or, if I did, I had forgot it all when I awoke to

consciousness, lying on the floor of the cottage, with my head in the

lap of the woman, who was weeping over me, and stroking my hair with

both hands, talking to me as a mother might talk to a sick and sleeping,

or a dead child. As soon as I looked up and saw her, she smiled

through her tears; smiled with withered face and young eyes, till her

countenance was irradiated with the light of the smile. Then she bathed

my head and face and hands in an icy cold, colourless liquid, which

smelt a little of damp earth. Immediately I was able to sit up. She rose

and put some food before me. When I had eaten, she said: "Listen to me,

my child. You must leave me directly!"