Haunt the soul opening on the Beautiful.
And when at length, the symbol voyage done,
Surviving Grief shrinks lonely from the sun,
By tender types show Grief what memories bloom
From lost delight, what fairies guard the tomb.
Scorn not the dream, O world-worn; pause a while,
New strength shall nerve thee as the dreams beguile,
Stung by the rest, less far shall seem the goal!
As sleep to life, so fiction to the soul.

* "Midsummer Night's Dream."



THE PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE



CHAPTER I.

IN WHICH THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO QUEEN NYMPHALIN.

IN one of those green woods which belong so peculiarly to our island (for
the Continent has its forests, but England its woods) there lived, a
short time ago, a charming little fairy called Nymphalin. I believe she
is descended from a younger branch of the house of Mab; but perhaps that
may only be a genealogical fable, for your fairies are very susceptible
to the pride of ancestry, and it is impossible to deny that they fall
somewhat reluctantly into the liberal opinions so much in vogue at the
present day.