For three good hours must pass e’er dinner come”— “Supper,” thought he, “she means, our time at home.” First was he feasted to his heart’s content; Then, all in rapture, with the Lady went; Through rooms immense, and galleries wide and tall, 300 He walk’d entranced—he breathed in Silford Hall. Now could he look on that delightful place, The glorious dwelling of a princely race; His vast delight was mixed with equal awe, There was such magic in the things he saw; Oft standing still, with open mouth and eyes } Turn’d here and there, alarm’d as one who tries } T’ escape from something strange that would before him rise. } The wall would part, and beings without name Would come—for such to his adventures came; 310 Hence undefined and solemn terror press’d Upon his mind, and all his powers possess’d. All he had read of magic, every charm, Were he alone, might come and do him harm; But his gaze rested on his friendly guide— “I’m safe,” he thought, “so long as you abide.” In one large room was found a bed of state— “And can they soundly sleep beneath such weight, Where they may figures in the night explore, Form’d by the dim light dancing on the floor 320 From the far window; mirrors broad and high Doubling each terror to the anxious eye?— ’Tis strange,” thought Peter, “that such things produce No fear in _her_; but there is much in use.” On that reflecting brightness, passing by, The Boy one instant fix’d his restless eye— And saw himself: he had before descried His face in one his mother’s store supplied; But here he could his whole dimensions view, From the pale forehead to the jet-black shoe. 330 Passing, he look’d and, looking, grieved to pass From the fair figure smiling in the glass. ’Twas so Narcissus saw the boy advance In the dear fount, and met th’ admiring glance So loved—But no! our happier boy admired, Not the slim form, but what the form attired— The riband, shirt, and frill, all pure and clean, The white ribb’d stockings, and the coat of green. The Lady now appear’d to move away— And this was threat’ning; for he dared not stay, 340 Lost and alone; but earnestly he pray’d— “Oh! do not leave me—I am not afraid, But ’tis so lonesome; I shall never find My way alone, no better than the blind.” The Matron kindly to the Boy replied, “Trust in my promise, I will be thy guide.” Then to the Chapel moved the friendly pair, And well for Peter that his guide was there! Dim, silent, solemn was the scene—he felt The cedar’s power, that so unearthly smelt; 350 And then the stain’d, dark, narrow windows threw Strange, partial beams on pulpit, desk, and pew: Upon the altar, glorious to behold, Stood a vast pair of candlesticks in gold! With candles tall, and large, and firm, and white. Such as the halls of giant-kings would light. There was an organ, too, but now unseen;