escape, and I shall be he." So I went on into the wood, still
hoping to find, in some one of its mysterious recesses, my lost
lady of the marble. The sunny afternoon died into the loveliest
twilight. Great bats began to flit about with their own
noiseless flight, seemingly purposeless, because its objects are
unseen. The monotonous music of the owl issued from all
unexpected quarters in the half-darkness around me. The glow-
worm was alight here and there, burning out into the great
universe. The night-hawk heightened all the harmony and
stillness with his oft-recurring, discordant jar. Numberless
unknown sounds came out of the unknown dusk; but all were of
twilight-kind, oppressing the heart as with a condensed
atmosphere of dreamy undefined love and longing. The odours of
night arose, and bathed me in that luxurious mournfulness
peculiar to them, as if the plants whence they floated had been
watered with bygone tears. Earth drew me towards her bosom; I
felt as if I could fall down and kiss her. I forgot I was in
Fairy Land, and seemed to be walking in a perfect night of our
own old nursing earth. Great stems rose about me, uplifting a
thick multitudinous roof above me of branches, and twigs, and
leaves--the bird and insect world uplifted over mine, with its
own landscapes, its own thickets, and paths, and glades, and
dwellings; its own bird-ways and insect-delights. Great boughs
crossed my path; great roots based the tree-columns, and mightily
clasped the earth, strong to lift and strong to uphold. It
seemed an old, old forest, perfect in forest ways and pleasures.
And when, in the midst of this ecstacy, I remembered that under
some close canopy of leaves, by some giant stem, or in some mossy
cave, or beside some leafy well, sat the lady of the marble, whom
my songs had called forth into the outer world, waiting (might it