hot tears to remain with me. He seems really intent
on persecuting me. As often as I reach him, he flies away again. On
every side his bow deals destruction. I have nought to do but to
console the unhappy, and yet I myself need consolation. The voices of
those who call me point out to me his path, and their mournful
complaints, when I am compelled to leave them, deeply cut my heart. The
scribe pursues us in a terrible rage, and revenges himself upon the
poor wounded ones. The fruit of that mysterious night was a multitude
of strange children, who look like their grandfather, and are named
after him. Being winged like their father, they ever accompany him, to
torment the poor ones whom his arrow wounds. But there comes the
joyous procession. I must away. Farewell, sweet child. His presence
excites my passion. Be happy in thy designs."

Eros passed on without Ginnistan, who hastened near him, beseeching but
one look of tenderness. But he turned kindly towards Fable, and his
little companions danced joyously around her. Fable was glad to see her
foster-brother again, and sang a merry song to her lyre. Eros seemed as
if desiring to recall some recollections of the past, and let fall his
bow upon the ground. Ginnistan could now embrace him, and he suffered
her tender caresses. At last Eros began to nod; he clung to Ginnistan's
bosom and fell asleep, spreading over her his wings. The weary
Ginnistan full of rejoicing turned not her eye from the graceful
sleeper. During the song, tarantulas came forth from all sides, which
drew a shining net over the blades of grass, and with sprightly
movements accompanied the music upon the threads. Fable now consoled
her mother, and promised to her speedy assistance. From the rocks fell
back the soft echo of the music, and lulled the sleeper. From the
carefully preserved vessel Ginnistan sprinkled some drops into the air,
and the most delightful dreams descended upon them. Fable took the
vessel and continued her journey. Her strings never were at rest, and
the tarantulas followed the enchanting sounds upon their fast-woven
threads.

She soon saw from afar the lofty flame of a funeral pile, which rose
high above the green forest. Mournfully she gazed towards heaven; yet
rejoiced when she saw Sophia's blue veil which was waving over the
earth, forever covering the unsightly tomb. The sun stood in heaven,
fiery-red with rage. The powerful flame imbibed its stolen light; and
the more fierce