new not where,
And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare;
Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew,
Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew.
But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung,
And the airs of heaven played round her tongue,
When she spoke of the lovely forms she had seen,
And a land where sin had never been;
A land of love and a land of light,
Withouten sun, or moon, or night;
Where the river swayed a living stream,
And the light a pure and cloudless beam:
The land of vision it would seem,
And still an everlasting dream."

The last two lines are the shepherd's own remark, and a matter of
opinion. But it is clear, I think, that Kilmeny must have described
the same country as Durante saw, though, not having his experience, she
could neither understand nor describe it so well.

Now I must give you such fragments of recollection as Diamond was able
to bring back with him.

When he came to himself after he fell, he found himself at the back of
the north wind. North Wind herself was nowhere to be seen. Neither
was there a vestige of snow or of ice within sight. The sun too had
vanished; but that was no matter, for there was plenty of a certain
still rayless light. Where it came from he never found out; but he
thought it belonged to the country itself. Sometimes he thought it came
out of the flowers, which were very bright, but had no strong colour.
He said the river--for all agree that there is a river there--flowed
not only through, but over grass: its channel, instead of being rock,
stones, pebbles, sand, or anything else, was of pure meadow grass, not
over long. He insisted that if it did not sing tunes in people's ears,
it sung tunes in their heads, in proof of which I may mention that, in
the troubles which followed, Diamond was often heard singing; and when
asked what he was singing, would answer, "One of the tunes the river
at the back of the north wind sung." And I may as well say at once that
Diamond never told these things to any one but--no, I had better not say
who it was; but whoever it was told me, and I thought it would be well
to write them for my child-readers.

He could not say he was very happy there, for he had neither his father
nor mother with him, but he felt so still and quiet and patient and
contented, that, as far as the