as one stript of wings whom the
angels beckon to their silver homes: and he leaneth forward to ascend to
them, and is mocked by his effort: then is he of the fallen, and of
the fallen would he remain, but that tears lighten him, and through the
tears stream jewelled shafts dropt down to him from the sky, precious
ladders inlaid with amethyst, sapphire, blended jasper, beryl,
rose-ruby, ether of heaven flushed with softened bloom of the
insufferable Presences: and lo, the ladders dance, and quiver, and
waylay his eyelids, and a second time he is mocked, aspiring: and after
the third swoon standeth Hope before him with folded arms, and eyes dry
of the delusions of tears, saying, Thou hast seen! thou hast felt! thy
strength hath reached in thee so far! now shall I never die in thee!'

'For surely,' says the minstrel, 'Hope is not born of earth, or it were
perishable. Rather know her the offspring of that embrace strong
love straineth the heavens with. This owe we to thy music, bridal
nightingale! And the difference of this celestial spirit from the
smirking phantasy of whom all stand soon or late forsaken, is the
difference between painted day with its poor ambitious snares, and night
lifting its myriad tapers round the throne of the eternal, the prophet
stars of everlasting time! And the one dieth, and the other liveth; and
the one is unregretted, and the other walketh in thought-spun raiment of
divine melancholy; her ears crowded with the pale surges that wrap this
shifting shore; in her eyes a shape of beauty floating dimly, that she
will not attain this side the water, but broodeth on evermore.

'Therefore, hold on thy cherished four long notes, which are as the very
edge where exultation and anguish melt, meet, and are sharpened to one
ecstasy, death-dividing bird! Fill the woods with passionate chuckle and
sob, sweet chaplain of the marriage service of a soul with heaven! Pour
out thy holy wine of song upon the soft-footed darkness, till, like a
priest of the inmost temple, 'tis drunken with fair intelligences!'

Thus the old minstrels and minnesingers.

Strong and full sang the nightingales that night Farina held watch by
the guilty castle that entombed his living beloved. The castle looked
itself a denser shade among the moonthrown shadows of rock and tree.
The meadow spread like a green courtyard at the castle's foot. It was of
lush deep emerald grass, softly mixed with grey in the moon's light, and
showing li