48 Tales of the Dead. [JuLV, 



close to its walls. To that spot I wandered on a smiling summer's morn. 

 Through the clear warm atmosphere not an envious cloud could be seen 

 skimming the blue vault, and the fragrant breeze that scarcely ruffled 

 the foliage seemed to lull all nature to repose. Yielding to the soothing 

 influence of the scene, I stretched myself lazily along the river-bank just 

 where the Saone timidly unites its limpid waters to the current of the 

 Rhone, and, liS^e a coquettish mistress half-meeting the caress she seems 

 to shun, first opposes the impetuous stream, then resists more faintly, till 

 at last both rivers mingle their waves and lovingly roll together in the 

 same broad channel. Hours glided on unnoticed, and the heat of the 

 noon-tide sun rendered the cool transparent flood still more tempting. A 

 species of rude mossy grotto lent me its partial shade, the same that, if 

 report speaks truth, once afforded a night's shelter to that phoenix of va- 

 gabonds, Jean Jacques Rousseau. Around me floated a thin veil of 

 sultry vapours. I was, in short, in that condition between sleep and wak- 

 ing, in that state of beatitude, which an opium-eater may be supposed 

 to enjoy ; and as I gazed upon the sheet of water that appeared to me so 

 peaceful and so calm, imagination presented to my view a fair and fan- 

 tastic form a youthful and lovely female seated on a fragment of rock 

 at the bottom of the stream, and tempting me with a smile to her watery 

 dwelling ; while, mixed with the murmur of the rippling current, a soft 

 plaintive melody was wafted to my ear one of those sweet strains with 

 which the Sirens of old wooed the heedless mariner to his ruin. The 

 charm was inexpressible. The bright vision floated with graceful equili- 

 brium in the clear mirror of the waves. A weeping willow that grew 

 upon the bank seemed in amorous mood to kiss the nymph's fair fore- 

 head, while its green leaves encircled her form with a transparent robe. 

 I lay in motionless enchantment, bound by one of those fairy spells 

 whose ecstatic raptures scorn the aid of language. The dreams of my 

 youth returned. I was transported to the world of imagination ; and 

 oh, how exquisitely fair appeared its visionary shapes, its wildest ideali- 

 ties ! How far did this fragile but faultless creation of my fancy surpass 

 the dull sluggish forms that jostle one another on the clod of earth to 

 which mortal faculties are chained ! I revelled for an instant in the 

 bowers of this shadowy Elysium : I lingered for one bright moment on 

 the threshold of a world which was not : I gazed on light which scarce 

 had shone ere it vanished, 



* Like the lost Pleiad seen no more below !* 



" Without hesitation, away I splashed into the stream ; and neither its 

 chilling coldness, nor the force of the torrent which hurried me along, 

 nor even the sudden flight of the river goddess, could dispel my poetic 

 illusion. Still entranced, I floated for a time on the surface of the waves, 

 which disputed the possession of my person as if it had been their de- 

 stined prey. Scarcely giving a thought to the dangers by which I was 

 surrounded, I resigned myself without a struggle to the violence of the 

 current. At one moment, like a truant nurseling, I felt myself gently 

 rocked in the arms of the Saone ; while, at the next, the Rhone bore me 

 furiously away. Soon after, placed in a manner within the influence of 

 the two rival streams which opposed a counterpoise to each other, I re- 

 mained stationary, and at such moments the smiling vision returned. 

 For an instant my divinity appeared so close, that, prompted by an irre- 

 sistible impulse, I rushed forward to seize her in her flight : but she 



