(A lighted torch in the hand Is no unpleasant object here--one's breath Floats round the flame, and makes as many colours 25 As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.) You see that crevice there? My torch extinguished by these water-drops, And marking that the moonlight came from thence, I stept in to it, meaning to sit there; 30 But scarcely had I measured twenty paces-- My body bending forward, yea, o'erbalanced Almost beyond recoil, on the dim brink Of a huge chasm I stept. The shadowy moonshine Filling the void so counterfeited substance, 35 That my foot hung aslant adown the edge. Was it my own fear? Fear too hath its instincts![860:1] (And yet such dens as these are wildly told of, And there are beings that live, yet not for the eye) An arm of frost above and from behind me 40 Pluck'd up and snatched me backward. Merciful Heaven! You smile! alas, even smiles look ghastly here! My lord, I pray you, go yourself and view it. _Ordonio._ It must have shot some pleasant feelings through you. _Isidore._ If every atom of a dead man's flesh 45 Should creep, each one with a particular life, Yet all as cold as ever--'twas just so! Or had it drizzled needle-points of frost Upon a feverish head made suddenly bald-- _Ordonio._ Why, Isidore, I blush for thy cowardice. It might have startled, 50 I grant you, even a brave man for a moment-- But such a panic-- _Isidore._ When a boy, my lord! I could have sate whole hours beside that chasm, Push'd in huge stones and heard them strike and rattle Against its horrid sides: then hung my head 55 Low down, and listened till the heavy fragments Sank with faint crash in that still groaning well, Which never thirsty pilgrim blest, which never A living thing came near--unless, perchance, Some blind-worm battens on the ropy mould 60 Close at its edge. _Ordonio._ Art thou more coward now? _Isidore._ Call him, that fears his fellow-man, a coward! I fear not man--but this inhuman cavern, It were too bad a prison-house for goblins. Beside, (you'll smile, my lord) but true it is, 65 My last night's sleep was very sorely haunted By what had passed between us in the morning. O sleep of horrors! Now run down and stared at By forms so hideous that they mock remembrance-- Now seeing nothing and imagining nothing, 70 But only being afraid--stifled with fear! While every goodly or familiar form Had a strange power of breathing terror round me![861:1] I saw you in a thousand fearful shapes; And, I entreat your lordship to believe me, 75 In my last dream----