ell first into the grave.
When with the verdant coating of the clods he had built a little mound,
he felt that he was weary of his journey and of life; that his weakly
chest could not endure the thin mountain air, and that the ice of death
had settled in his heart. He cast a longing glance at the bereaved
mother, who had long stood trembling behind him, and they fell silent
into each other's arms, and their eyes could scarcely weep more.

At last, from behind a glacier that was glimmering out, the glorious
moon flowed forth in loveliness on the two silent unhappy ones, and
showed them its white peaceful meadows, and the gentle light with which
it softens man. "Mother, look up," said Eugenius; "yonder is thy son!
See there, the white flowery groves, in which our child will play, are
passing over the moon." Now a burning fire filled his inmost self with
consuming power,--the moon made his eye blind to all that was not
light; sublime forms rolled before him in the light stream, and he
heard in his soul, new thoughts which are not indigenous in man, and
are too great for memory; just as in a dream small melodies may come to
the man who can make none when awake. Death and pleasure press upon
his heavy tongue. "Rosamond, why sayest thou nothing? Dost thou see
thy child? I look beyond the long earth, even to where the moon
begins. There is my son flying between angels. Full flowers cradle
him,--the spring of earth waves over him--children lead him--angels
instruct him--God loves him. Oh! thou dear one, thou art smiling; the
silver light of paradise flows with heavenly radiance about thy little
mouth, and thou hearest me, and callest thy parents. Rosamond, give me
thy hand; we will go and die!"

The slight corporeal chains grew longer. His advancing spirit
fluttered higher on the borders of life. With convulsive power he
seized the paralysed Rosamond, and blind and sinking, stammered forth,
"Rosamond, where art thou? I fly! I die! We remain together!"

His heart burst,--his spirit fled; but Rosamond did not remain with
him, for fate snatched her from his dying hand, and cast her back upon
earth, living. She felt if his hand had the coldness of death, and
since it had, she placed it softly against her heart, sunk slowly upon
her failing knees, and raised her face, which had become inexpressibly
serene, towards the starry power. Her eyes, from their tearless
sockets, pressed forth dry, large, and happy, into t