the second time, and presently stood panting on the edge of the
Ring. And again a pang of wonder that was akin to pain shot through
his heart at the loveliness of the world below him.

"Beautiful earth!" he cried once more, "how fair and dear you are
become to me in your remoteness. But oh, if you appear so beautiful
from this summit, what must you appear from the summit of the
clouds?" And he glanced from the earth to the sky, and saw the sun
running down his airy hill. "Dear Temptress!" he said, "how
cunningly you would snare me from my purpose." And he kissed his
hand to her thrice, sealed up his lips, and entered the Ring.

Between the two tall beeches he knelt down, and drowned the
following hours in thought and prayer; till that deep lake of
meditation was divided by the sound of singing, as though a shoal of
silver fishes swam and leaped upon its surface, putting all
quietness to flight, and troubling its waters with a million
lovelinesses. For now it was as though the bird's enchanting song
came partly from within and partly from without, and if the fall of
its music shattered his dream like falling fish, certain it seemed
to him that the fish had first leaped from his own heart, out of
whose unsuspected caves darted a shoal of nameless longings. He too
leaped up and darted through the trees, and with head bent down, for
fear of he knew not what, made his way to the Pond. Here he knelt
again, drinking in the tremulous song of the bird, as tremulous as
youth and maidenhood, until at last it ceased with a sweet
uncompleted cry of longing. And at that instant, in the mirror of
the Pond, he saw the uncompleted disc of the half-moon, and dipped
his head.