t of all the heart to love?
Sadder than for will or soul,
No light lured it on above:
Love has found itself the whole.

"Is it not pitiful? I pity only those who pity themselves. Yet he is
mine more surely than ever. This is the end of human wisdom. How shall
he now escape? What shall draw him up?"

"His will shall awaken," said the Wise One. "I do not sorrow over him,
for long is the darkness before the spirit is born. He learns in your
caves not to see, not to hear, not to think, for very anguish flying
your illusions."

"Sorrow is a great bond," Lilith said.

"It is a bond to the object of sorrow. He weeps what thou canst never
give him, a life never breathed in thee. He shall come forth, and thou
shalt not see him at the time of passing. When desire dies the swift and
invisible will awakens. He shall go forth; and one by one the dwellers
in your caves will awaken and pass onward. This small old path will be
trodden by generation after generation. Thou, too, O shining Lilith,
shalt follow, not as mistress, but as handmaiden."

"I will weave spells," Lilith cried. "They shall never pass me. I will
drug them with the sweetest poison. They shall rest drowsily and content
as of old. Were they not giants long ago, mighty men and heroes? I
overcame them with young enchantment. Shall they pass by feeble and
longing for bygone joys, for the sins of their exultant youth, while I
have grown into a myriad wisdom?"

The Wise One walked to and fro as before, and there was silence: and I
saw that with steady will he pierced the tumultuous gloom of the cave,
and a spirit awoke here and there from its dream. And I though I saw
that Sad Singer become filled with a new longing for true being, and
that the illusions of good and evil fell from him, and that he came at
last to the knees of the Wise One to learn the supreme truth. In
the misty midnight I hear these three voices--the Sad Singer, the
Enchantress Lilith, and the Wise One. From the Sad Singer I learned
that thought of itself leads nowhere, but blows the perfume from every
flower, and cuts the flower from every tree, and hews down every tree
from the valley, and in the end goes to and fro in waste places--gnawing
itself in a last hunger. I learned from Lilith that we weave our own
enchantment, and bind ourselves with out own imagination. To think of
the true as beyond us or to love the symbol of being is to darken the
path to wisdom, and to deb