3(5 Antonio's love song ; 



can scarce save her from the tread of his beast, Rozinante. She 

 turns and looks upon him : Sir Knight, be good. Sir Knight ; 

 1 am old. Sir Knight ; the storm comes on. Sir Knight ; help me, 

 good Sir Knight ! She would have fallen had he not have reached 

 forth his hand and aided her to rise ; she springs into the saddle 

 with a shriek, Rozinante bounds forwards, the barbican drops, 

 the portcullis flies up, and they enter the castle of the enchantress 

 Pintiquiniestra. 



Welcome, my love, to the festal halls of Pintiquiniestra 1 laughs 

 the old hag. Welcome ! Welcome ! reverberate a thousand echo- 

 ing laughs. Upheld by a hidden spell, the knight follows the hag 

 through gloomy passages and arcades whose leaves are seered and 

 dry ; as the thick wind moves them they rattle like dead men's 

 bones. They now stand before a door that seems studded with a 

 thousand lurid stars ; in an instant it flies open, and the knight 

 enters a saloon where a thousand black marble columns support the 

 ceiling, on which shine the same kind of stars, but so distant that 

 more than the general outline of the hall cannot be seen ; grim 

 shades of giants seem to wander through the mighty space : the 

 knight's spurs clank (and echoing clank) across the marble tiles. 

 They stand before a door wherein a thousand brilliant gems sparkle 

 — music floats around and fills the air — the giant shades are seen 

 no longer, but light and voluptuous forms bewilder the knight's 

 senses. Suddenly a thousand silver notes harmonious blend in one 

 burst of ravishing melody. The knight nearly sinks overpowered 

 on the marble-based couches on which beauteous damsels recline in 

 all the voluptuousness of sense, their charms covered but not con- 

 cealed. He gazes on the bracelet, and revives. 



The old hag has disappeared, and in her place a Nubian slave 

 beckons him on. At doors of sapphire the slave pauses — they fly 

 open — the Nubian is gone, but on each side of the saloon are a 

 row of black slaves motionless as statues on their pedestals ; their 

 eyes glare on the knight, who still advances. Welcome ! Wel- 

 come ! mutter a thousand tongues. The dauntless knight advances 

 boldly towards a light that seems far off"; he reaches the door, 

 narrow and small, with only one burning gem in the centre. It 

 grows brighter and brighter, until almost insupportable ; it seems 

 consumed by its own fires. He passes on — he is joined by a lovely 

 form, who floats noiselessly before him. They stand before a 

 row of silver pillars ; as the fairy throws her hand from right to 

 left, a streak of blue light glitters on the columns — it grows brighter 

 and brighter — suddenly they divide, half sinking into the earth — the 



