her_! Her kingdom is not large, or else no flesh
should live; but within that kingdom all power is hers. Her head,
turreted like that of Cybele, rises almost beyond the reach of sight.
She droops not; and her eyes rising so high, _might_ be hidden by
distance. But, being what they are, they cannot be hidden; through the
treble veil of crape which she wears, the fierce light of a blazing
misery, that rests not for matins or for vespers--for noon of day or
noon of night--for ebbing or for flowing tide--may be read from the very
ground. She is the defier of God. She also is the mother of lunacies,
and the suggestress of suicides. Deep lie the roots of her power; but
narrow is the nation that she rules. For she can approach only those in
whom a profound nature has been upheaved by central convulsions; in whom
the heart trembles and the brain rocks under conspiracies of tempest
from without and tempest from within. Madonna moves with uncertain
steps, fast or slow, but still with tragic grace. Our Lady of Sighs
creeps timidly and stealthily. But this youngest sister moves with
incalculable motions, bounding, and with a tiger's leaps. She carries no
key; for, though coming rarely amongst men, she storms all doors at
which she is permitted to enter at all. And _her_ name is _Mater
Tenebrarum_--Our Lady of Darkness.

These were the _Semnai Theai_, or Sublime Goddesses[14]--these were the
_Eumenides_, or Gracious Ladies, (so called by antiquity in shuddering
propitiation)--of my Oxford dreams. MADONNA spoke. She spoke by her
mysterious hand. Touching my head, she beckoned to Our Lady of Sighs;
and _what_ she spoke, translated out of the signs which (except in
dreams) no man reads, was this:--

"Lo! here is he, whom in childhood I dedicated to my altars.
This is he that once I made my darling. Him I led astray, him I
beguiled, and from heaven I stole away his young heart to mine.
Through me did he become idolatrous; and through me it was, by
languishing desires, that he worshipped the worm, and prayed to
the wormy grave. Holy was the grave to him; lovely was its
darkness; saintly its corruption. Him, this young idolater, I
have seasoned for thee, dear gentle Sister of Sighs! Do thou
take him now to _thy_ heart, and season him for our dreadful
sister. And thou"--turning to the _Mater Tenebrarum_, she
said--"wicked sister, that temptest and hatest, do thou take
him from _