No priest in her holy places;
Her ships lie anchored with drooping sails,
In her streets are no living faces!"
"Thank you; the lines are very beautiful," said Waldemar. "Now, when we read these poet fancies, we may know that they are not all fancy, for have not we too seen the enchanted, enchanting old Wonder-city? I can repeat no poem to you, but these lines of Wilhelm Müller haunt my memory to-day:
"From the sea's deep, deep abysses,
Evening bells chime sweet and low,
Of that olden city telling,
Lost and sunken long ago.
"From the heart's deep, deep abysses
Sounds come like those bells of even,