THE MONK. 95 



the mountains, and the guardian spirits of the sylvan groves, to re- 

 alise his commands. In the green turf, which rose sloping from the 

 crystal fountain, enamelled with flowerets of every hue, he beheld 

 his throne. In the vast vault of heaven, spangled with the count- 

 less host of blazing stars, he saw his canopy. The pearly dews, as 

 they lay glittering in the silver moonbeams, were his treasures; and 

 in the whispering boughs, as they waved in the night breeze, he 

 heard the music of a thousand sylphs. In such reveries would he 

 often pass away the swift fleeting hours, until midnight surprised 

 him in his lonely imaginations. He saw Paulina. She instantly 

 became the queen of his fabled goddesses, and the reality of his most 

 ideal picturings. A new field was opened to him. Her image was 

 now associated with every scene. She was the ruling power 

 that swayed his destiny. But his day dreams were ere long to 

 be broken, and the magic wand of phantasy to give place to the 

 unwelcome rod of truth. He met her again, and again. She was 

 his soul's idol, and he believed that she returned his love. Y6s ! he 

 believed that she felt the same deep intense affection that glowed in 

 his heart. 



" As may be supposed," Rudolf's temperament was not one to brook 

 long delay. His love was not like the soft zephyr that sighs gently 

 along, stealing with a kiss the sweets from the blushing flower. It 

 was rather the fierce whirlwind, that bears down every obstacle, and 

 concentrates every feeling in one overwhelming vortex. He told 

 her of his passion. He poured out his whole soul. He spoke in 

 words of fire. She turned from him with scorn. She replied to 

 him with disdain. Each syllable fell like scorching metal on his 

 excited brain, and stung him to madness. He left her. He fled 

 from the scenes no longer dear to him. He became a hopeless fugi- 

 tive. In a few months, tidings reached his friends that he had died 

 in a distant land. Many mourned his hapless fate, and even Pau- 

 lina shed bitter, though unavailing tears. 



" Years rolled on, and Rudolph ceased to be remembered. When 

 men mix, and are occupied in the ever-changing events of life, the 

 interest of the present soon obliterates the impressions of the past. 

 They behold the green mantle of spring cast over the face of nature ; 

 they hear the melody of birds, and the glad song of the husbandman 

 returning from his labours ; they forget the cheerlessness of winter, 

 and lifeless silence of the fields and groves ; they enjoy the blessings 

 of peace and the delights of friendship and love ; and they no 

 longer remember the miseries of war, the sword of the destroyer, 

 and the desolation of bereavement. It is only in barren solitude. 



