of thy guardian Hills;
of the greenest was their sward, embossed with its dark-brown frets of
crag, or spotted by some spreading solitary Tree and its shadow. To
the unconscious Wayfarer thou wert also as an Ammon's Temple, in the
Libyan Waste; where, for joy and woe, the tablet of his Destiny lay
written. Well might he pause and gaze; in that glance of his were
prophecy and nameless forebodings.'

But now let us conjecture that the so presentient Auscultator has
handed-in his _Relatio ex Actis_; been invited to a glass of
Rhine-wine; and so, instead of returning dispirited and athirst to his
dusty Town-home, is ushered into the Gardenhouse, where sit the
choicest party of dames and cavaliers: if not engaged in AEsthetic Tea,
yet in trustful evening conversation, and perhaps Musical Coffee, for
we hear of 'harps and pure voices making the stillness live.'
Scarcely, it would seem, is the Gardenhouse inferior in respectability
to the noble Mansion itself. 'Embowered amid rich foliage,
rose-clusters, and the hues and odours of thousand flowers, here sat
that brave company; in front, from the wide-opened doors, fair outlook
over blossom and bush, over grove and velvet green, stretching,
undulating onwards to the remote Mountain peaks: so bright, so mild,
and everywhere the melody of birds and happy creatures: it was all as
if man had stolen a shelter from the Sun in the bosom-vesture of
Summer herself. How came it that the Wanderer advanced thither with
such forecasting heart (_ahndungsvoll_), by the side of his gay host?
Did he feel that to these soft influences his hard bosom ought to be
shut; that here, once more, Fate had it in view to try him; to mock
him, and see whether there were Humour in him?

'Next moment he finds himself presented to the party; and especially
by name to--Blumine! Peculiar among all dames and damosels glanced
Blumine, there in her modesty, like a star among earthly lights.
Noblest maiden! whom he bent to, in body and in soul; yet scarcely
dared look at, for the presence filled him with painful yet sweetest
embarrassment.

'Blumine's was a name well known to him; far and wide was the fair one
heard of, for her gifts, her graces, her caprices: from all which
vague colourings of Rumour, from the censures no less than from the
praises, had our friend painted for himself a certain imperious Queen
of Hearts, and blooming warm Earth-angel, much more enchanting than
your mere white Heaven-angels of