From somewhere below, there came a faint piping. He raised his head to listen, but it had gone and a feeling akin to apprehension stole over him. It was strange to be alone in this once holy place, and he determined to wait until the moon had risen and he could see to make his way down to the village again. Something stirred before him and a small shape scurried past his feet; he could hear it scraping across the stone flagging. He called to it gently and there was silence which, although he listened for several minutes, was not broken.
Drowsiness came upon him. He lay back upon the stone and closed his eyes. When he awoke the moon was shining down upon him softly, a silver Argos on a winking sea. He was strangely content, and it seemed at last that the moon was falling and he could hear laughing voices about him, and that a fierce, wild wind was lashing itself around him. He felt himself lifted and carried he knew not where; but the moon was beside him, small like a lantern, and he turned his head to watch it glimmer.
He thought he stood upon a high tower, while the wind sang about him and the moon lay still at his feet like a silver bubble. Below him lay the land, barren and grey like a dusky desert, while through it ran a blue stream threading its way to the distant horizon. Then the wind caught him up again and the moon brushed against his hand as they rose.
They were passing over a mighty sea and he saw, tossing upon the crest of a mighty wave, a tiny ship, and he seemed to hear the cries of the sailors; and the wind bore him on its way until he found himself upon the shore of the sea, the moon hanging a little above him. Beside him stood a warrior, clad in armor and leaning upon his shield. He moved a little nearer and, as he looked into his face, the warrior turned away and let his shield fall upon the ground. Whereupon the waves crept up around it and carried it away with them down into the sea.
He stood upon a city wall. Below him the people were crowding the marketplaces. Some carried torches and others garlands. It was a time of rejoicing, but, hovered against the wall, he saw a beggar, old and blind. He called upon the wind to take him away and he saw no more.
Their way lay over strange lands and grey mountains, and he lay half sleeping as the wind bore him on its way. At last he felt himself falling.
He lay upon a barge going down a golden river. He could hear the boatmen singing as they swept their oars against the side. He opened his eyes. For a moment he stared fixedly and saw above him two shining stars which laughed and danced like liquid flames. He knew at once that they were eyes, the eyes of a woman bent low over him. Her lips gleamed red against the whiteness of her face, and about her white shoulders her black hair tumbled like an angry sea. She was singing softly above the chant of the boatmen and her words were these:
“Come sail with me along Romance’s golden streams,
Our ship, Imagination, and our sailwinds—dreams!”