than anything I had seen before in nature or art. The actual
outlines of the rest of the form were so indistinct, that the
more than semi-opacity of the alabaster seemed insufficient to
account for the fact; and I conjectured that a light robe added
its obscurity. Numberless histories passed through my mind of
change of substance from enchantment and other causes, and of
imprisonments such as this before me. I thought of the Prince of
the Enchanted City, half marble and half a man; of Ariel; of
Niobe; of the Sleeping Beauty in the Wood; of the bleeding trees;
and many other histories. Even my adventure of the preceding
evening with the lady of the beech-tree contributed to arouse the
wild hope, that by some means life might be given to this form
also, and that, breaking from her alabaster tomb, she might
glorify my eyes with her presence. "For," I argued, "who can
tell but this cave may be the home of Marble, and this, essential
Marble--that spirit of marble which, present throughout, makes it
capable of being moulded into any form? Then if she should
awake! But how to awake her? A kiss awoke the Sleeping Beauty!
a kiss cannot reach her through the incrusting alabaster." I
kneeled, however, and kissed the pale coffin; but she slept on.
I bethought me of Orpheus, and the following stones--that trees
should follow his music seemed nothing surprising now. Might not
a song awake this form, that the glory of motion might for a time
displace the loveliness of rest? Sweet sounds can go where
kisses may not enter. I sat and thought. Now, although always
delighting in music, I had never been gifted with the power of
song, until I entered the fairy forest. I had a voice, and I had
a true sense of sound; but when I tried to sing, the one would
not content the other, and so I remained silent. This morning,
however, I had found myself, ere I was aware, rejoicing in a