CAVE OF FANCY.
CHAP. I.
Ye who expect conſtancy where every thing is changing, and peace in the midſt of tumult, attend to the voice of experience, and mark in time the footſteps of diſappointment, or life will be loſt in deſultory wiſhes, and death arrive before the dawn of wiſdom.
In a ſequeſtered valley, ſurrounded by rocky mountains that intercepted many of the paſſing clouds, though ſunbeams variegated their ample ſides, lived a ſage, to whom nature had unlocked her moſt hidden ſecrets. His hollow eyes, ſunk in their orbits, retired from the view of vulgar objects, and turned inwards, overleaped the boundary preſcribed to human knowledge. Intenſe thinking during fourſcore and ten years, had whitened the ſcattered locks on his head, which, like the ſummit of the diſtant mountain, appeared to be bound by an eternal froſt.
On the ſandy waſte behind the mountains, the track of ferocious beaſts might be traced, and ſometimes the mangled limbs which they left, attracted a hovering flight of birds of prey. An extenſive wood the ſage had forced to rear its head in a ſoil by no means congenial, and the firm trunks of the trees ſeemed to frown with defiance on time; though the ſpoils of innumerable ſummers covered the roots, which reſembled fangs; ſo cloſely did they cling to the unfriendly ſand, where ſerpents hiſſed, and ſnakes, rolling out their vaſt folds, inhaled the noxious vapours. The ravens and owls who inhabited the ſolitude, gave alſo a thicker gloom to the everlaſting twilight, and the croaking of the former a monotony, in uniſon with the gloom; whilſt lions and tygers, ſhunning even this faint ſemblance of day, ſought the dark caverns, and at night, when they ſhook off ſleep, their roaring would make the whole valley reſound, confounded with the ſcreechings of the bird of night.
One mountain roſe ſublime, towering above all, on the craggy ſides of which a few ſea-weeds grew, waſhed by the ocean, that with tumultuous roar ruſhed to aſſault, and even undermine, the huge barrier that ſtopped its progreſs; and ever and anon a ponderous maſs, looſened from the cliff, to which it ſcarcely ſeemed to adhere, always threatening to fall, fell into the flood, rebounding as it fell, and the ſound was re-echoed from rock to rock. Look where you would, all was without form, as if nature, ſuddenly ſtopping her hand, had left chaos a retreat.
Cloſe to the moſt remote ſide of it was the ſage's abode. It was a rude hut, formed of ſtumps of trees and matted twigs, to ſecure him from the inclemency of the weather; only through ſmall apertures croſſed with ruſhes, the wind entered in wild murmurs, modulated by theſe obſtructions. A clear ſpring broke out of the middle of the adjacent rock, which, dropping ſlowly into a cavity it had hollowed, ſoon overflowed, and then ran, ſtruggling to free itſelf from the cumbrous fragments, till, become a deep, ſilent ſtream, it eſcaped through reeds, and roots of trees, whoſe blaſted tops overhung and darkened the current.
One ſide of the hut was ſupported by the rock, and at midnight, when the ſage ſtruck the incloſed part, it yawned wide, and admitted him into a cavern in the very bowels of the earth, where never human foot before had trod; and the various ſpirits, which inhabit the different regions of nature, were here obedient to his potent word. The cavern had been formed by the great inundation of waters, when the approach of a comet forced them from their ſource; then, when the fountains of the great deep were broken up, a ſtream ruſhed out of the centre of the earth, where the ſpirits, who have lived on it, are confined to purify themſelves from the droſs contracted in their firſt ſtage of exiſtence; and it flowed in black waves, for ever bubbling along the cave, the extent of which had never been explored. From the ſides and top, water diſtilled, and, petrifying as it fell, took fantaſtic ſhapes, that ſoon divided it into apartments, if ſo they might be called. In the foam, a wearied ſpirit would ſometimes riſe, to catch the moſt diſtant glimpſe of light, or taſte the vagrant breeze, which the yawning of the rock admitted, when Sageſtus, for that was the name of the hoary ſage, entered. Some, who were refined and almoſt cleared from vicious ſpots, he would allow to leave, for a limited time, their dark priſon-houſe; and, flying on the winds acroſs the bleak northern ocean, or riſing in an exhalation till they reached a ſun-beam, they thus re-viſited the haunts of men. Theſe were the guardian angels, who in ſoft whiſpers reſtrain the vicious, and animate the wavering wretch who ſtands ſuſpended between virtue and vice.
