It would take a long time to tell how many adventures Lanis met with in his wanderings through the world. The years rolled by, and he travelled onward, never pausing, always hoping to find happiness, but, alas! no one could tell him where to look for the Kingdom of Shadows, and he seemed farther off his object than when he set forth. He freed many princesses from the durance of cruel magicians, but though they all thanked him for his kindness, they loved some one else, and he found no one in the world who cared at all about him. He was honoured far and wide for his gift of song, and did much good in all lands, but no one loved him for himself, and although he was the cause of happiness to others, he never felt happiness in his own heart. At last, after many years of weary travel, when he had grown a white-haired old man, with bent form and sad heart, he found himself on the shore of a great sea, beyond which he knew lay the most wonderful countries. A boat was rocking on the waves near the shore, so Lanis determined to sail over this mysterious ocean, and thought that perhaps far away in the darkness he might find the Kingdom of Shadows, for which he had sought so long and ardently. He knew that if he once sailed over this ocean, he would never be able to return to earth again, so he sang a last farewell to the beautiful world wherein he had done so much good, and then stepped into the boat. It was a fairy boat, and moved rapidly onward over the waves without sails or oars. The mists gathered thickly round him and hid the green shore from his view, so sitting in the boat he saw nothing but the grey sky above, the grey mists around, and beneath him the cruel black waters. He was not afraid, however, for he knew he had done no harm, and, seizing his harp, sang his last sorrow-song: “Grey mist around me, Grey sky above me; Sorrow hath crowned me— No one will love me. Brave spirit, quail not; All will be bright yet. At thy fate rail not; God will make right yet. Still do thy duty, Tho’ all deceive thee, Splendour and beauty Now will receive thee.” As he sang the last words, the strings of his lyre snapped with a loud crash, and, leaping out of his nerveless hands, it fell into the grey waves of the sea. Lanis did not grieve, for he now knew he was done with his sorrow-singing for evermore, and as the boat sailed onward he saw a red glow to the left. “That is the gate of iron,” he whispered to himself, “it leads to the Kingdom of Fire. Ah! I would never find any happiness there.”