Tale of Archais

THE TALE OF ARCHAIS 25 And drives them down the steep of Hell. But dim Sweet faces of dead maidens drew to him ; Quiet woods and streams and all the mountains tall, Cool valleys, silver-streaked with waterfall, Came in his slumbers, chaste and musical, While through their maze his mind beheld afar Dim and divine, Archais, like a star. It was no dream, or else the growing dawn Deepened the glory of the misted lawn, For to his eyes, half open now, there seems A figure, fairer than his dearest dreams. He sprang, he caught her to his breast, the maid Smiled and lay back to look at him. He laid Her tender body on the sloping field, And felt her sighs in his embraces yield A sweeter music than all birds. But she, Lost in the love she might not know, may see No further than his face, and yet, aware Of her own fate, resisted like a snare Her own soft wishes. As she looked and saw His eager face, the iron rod of law