th three terraces from top to bottom.

Then he did as the hen-wife had told him, not forgetting to go round
widershins, so that the sun was always on his face.

Now when he had gone round the third terrace saying:

"Open fast, open fast;
Let me in at last,"

what should happen but that he should see a door in the hill-side. And
it opened and let him in. Then it closed behind him with a click, and
Childe Rowland was left in the dark; for he had gotten at last to the
Dark Tower of the King of Elfland.

It was very dark at first, perhaps because the sun had part blinded his
eyes; for after a while it became twilight, though where the light came
from none could tell, unless through the walls and the roof; for there
were neither windows nor candles. But in the gloaming light he could see
a long passage of rough arches made of rock that was transparent and all
encrusted with sheep-silver, rock-spar, and many bright stones. And the
air was warm as it ever is in Elfland. So he went on and on in the
twilight that came from nowhere, till he found himself before two wide
doors all barred with iron. But they flew open at his touch, and he saw
a wonderful, large, and spacious hall that seemed to him to be as long
and as broad as the green hill itself. The roof was supported by pillars
wide and lofty beyond the pillars of a cathedral; and they were of gold
and silver, fretted into foliage, and between and around them were woven
wreaths of flowers. And the flowers were of diamonds, and rubies, and
topaz, and the leaves of emerald. And the arches met in the middle of
the roof where hung, by a golden chain, an immense lamp made of a
hollowed pearl, white and translucent. And in the middle of this lamp
was a mighty carbuncle, blood-red, that kept spinning round and round,
shedding its light to the very ends of the huge hall, which thus seemed
to be filled with the shining of the setting sun.

Now at one end of the hall was a marvelous, wondrous, glorious couch of
velvet, silk and gold, and on it sate fair Burd Helen combing her
beautiful golden hair with a golden comb. But her face was all set and
wan, as if it were made of stone. When she saw Childe Rowland she never
moved, and her voice came like the voice of the dead as she said:

"God pity you, poor luckless fool!
What have you here to do?"

Now at first Childe Rowland felt he must clasp this semblance of his
dear sister in his arms, but he remembered the lesson wh