As soon as one was worked out of the mass, he bounded off a few paces, and then, with a somersault and a run, threw himself gyrating into the air, and descended with all his weight on the summit of the heaving and struggling chaos of fantastic figures.

I left them still busy at this fierce and apparently aimless amusement.

And as I went, I sang-- If a nobler waits for thee, I will weep aside; It is well that thou should'st be, Of the nobler, bride.
For if love builds up the home, Where the heart is free, Homeless yet the heart must roam, That has not found thee.
One must suffer: I, for her Yield in her my part Take her, thou art worthier-- Still I be still, my heart! Gift ungotten! largess high Of a frustrate will! But to yield it lovingly Is a something still.
Then a little song arose of itself in my soul; and I felt for the moment, while it sank sadly within me, as if I was once more walking up and down the white hall of Phantasy in the Fairy Palace.

But this lasted no longer than the song; as will be seen.
Do not vex thy violet Perfume to afford: Else no odour thou wilt get From its little hoard.
In thy lady's gracious eyes Look not thou too long; Else from them the glory flies, And thou dost her wrong.
Come not thou too near the maid, Clasp her not too wild; Else the splendour is allayed, And thy heart beguiled.
A crash of laughter, more discordant and deriding than any I had yet heard, invaded my ears.

Looking on in the direction of the sound, I saw a little elderly woman, much taller, however, than the goblins I had just left, seated upon a stone by the side of the path.