This, by his account, was a place one ought to visit,
if only for the satisfaction of leaving it behind. But I have heard
more animated accounts of it elsewhere.
As for Reverie himself, he seemed only desirous to contemplate; never
to taste, to win, or to handle. He needed but refuse reality to what
shocked or teased him, to find it harmless and entertaining. He was a
dreamer whom the heat and shout of battle could not offend.
Perhaps he perceived my restlessness to be gone, for he himself
suggested that I should stay till the next morning, and then, if I so
pleased, he would see me a mile or two on my way.
"For the Pitiless Lady," he said, smiling, "takes many disguises,
sometimes of the sun, sometimes of evening, sometimes of night; and I
would at least save you from the fate that has made my poor friend a
phantom before he is a shade."
XII
_The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie._
--S.T. Coleridge.
So Reverie, as he had promised, rode out with me a few miles to see me
on my way. Above the gloom and stillness of the valley the scene began
to change again.
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