race hath passed away!

Oh, happier he who gains not
The Love some seem to gain:
The joy that custom stains not
Shall still with him remain,
The loveliness that wanes not,
The love that ne'er can wane.

In dreams she grows not older
The lands of Dream among,
Though all the world wax colder,
Though all the songs be sung,
In dreams doth he behold her
Still fair and kind and young.

Now the silence died away, and again madness came upon those who
had listened and looked. The men without the wall once more hurled
themselves against the gates, while the women clung to them, shrieking
curses on the beauty of the Hathor, for the song meant nothing to these
women, and their arms were about those whom they loved and who won them
their bread. But most of the men who were in the outer court rushed
up to the inner gates within which stood the alabaster shrine of the
Hathor. Some flung themselves upon the ground and clutched at it, as
in dreams men fling themselves down to be saved from falling into a pit
that has no bottom. Yet as in such an evil slumber the dreamer is
drawn inch by inch to the mouth of the pit by an unseen hand, so these
wretched men were dragged along the ground by the might of their
own desire. In vain they set their feet against the stones to hold
themselves from going, for they thrust forward yet more fiercely
with their hands, and thus little by little drew near the inner gates
writhing forwards yet moving backwards like a wounded snake dragged
along by a rope. For of those who thus entered the outer court and
looked upon the Hathor, few might go back alive.

Now the priests drew the cloths from their eyes, and rising, flung
wide the second gates, and there, but a little way off, the veil of the
shrine wavered as if in a wind. For now the doors beyond the veil were
thrown open, as might be seen when the wind swayed its Tyrian web, and
through the curtain came the sound of the same sweet singing.

"Draw near! Draw near!" cried the ancient priest. "Let him who would win
the Hathor draw near!"

Now at first the Wanderer was minded to rush on. But his desire had not
wholly overcome him, nor had his wisdom left him. He took counsel with
his heart and waited to let the others go, and to see how it fared with
them.

The worshippers were now hurrying back and now darting onwards, as fear
and longing seized them, till the man wh