The fluttering of white raiment. With a sense Of wild joy and horror, he gave pause, For his sagacious horse that reeked of sweat, Trembling in every limb, confirmed his thought, That nothing human scaled that haunted cliff. The white thing seemed descending,--now a cloud It looked, and now a rag of drifted mist, Torn in the jagged gorge precipitous, And now an apparition clad in white, Shapely and real,--then he lost it quite, Gazing on nothing with blank, foolish face. As with wide eyes he stood, he was aware Of a strange splendor at his very side, A presence and a majesty so great, That ere he saw, he felt it was divine. He turned, and, leaping from his horse, fell prone, In speechless adoration, on the earth, Before the matchless goddess, who appeared With no less freshness of immortal youth Than when first risen from foam of Paphian seas. He heard delicious strains of melody, Such as his highest muse had ne'er attained, Float in the air, while in the distance rang, Harsh and discordant, jarring with those tones, The gallop of his frightened horse's hoofs, Clattering in sudden freedom down the pass. A voice that made all music dissonance Then thrilled through heart and flesh of that prone knight, Triumphantly: "The gods need but appear, And their usurped thrones are theirs again!" Then tenderly: "Sweet knight, I pray thee, rise; Worship me not, for I desire thy love. Look on me, follow me, for I am fain Of thy fair, human face." He rose and looked, Stirred by that heavenly flattery to the soul. Her hair, unbraided and unfilleted, Rained in a glittering shower to the ground, And cast forth lustre. Round her zone was clasped The scintillant cestus, stiff with flaming gold, Thicker with restless gems than heaven with stars. She might have flung the enchanted wonder forth; Her eyes, her slightest gesture would suffice To bind all men in blissful slavery. She sprang upon the mountain's dangerous side, With feet that left their print in flowers divine,-- Flushed amaryllis and blue hyacinth, Impurpled amaranth and asphodel, Dewy with nectar, and exhaling scents Richer than all the roses of mid-June. The knight sped after her, with wild eyes fixed Upon her brightness, as she lightly leapt From crag to crag, with flying auburn hair, Like a gold cloud, that lured him ever on, Higher and higher up the haunted cliff. At last amidst a grove of pines she paused, Until he reached her, breathing hard with haste, Delight, and wonder. Then upon his hand She placed her own, and all his blood at once Tingled and hotly rushed to brow and cheek, At the supreme caress; but the mere touch Infused fresh life, and when she looked at him