O, hours of intense delight! Short as ye were ye are made as long to me as a whole life when looked back upon through the mist of grief that rose immediately after as if to shut ye from my view.

Alas! ye were the last of happiness that I ever enjoyed; a few, a very few weeks and all was destroyed.

Like Psyche[21] I lived for awhile in an enchanted palace, amidst odours, and music, and every luxurious delight; when suddenly I was left on a barren rock; a wide ocean of despair rolled around me: above all was black, and my eyes closed while I still inhabited a universal death.
Still I would not hurry on; I would pause for ever on the recollections of these happy weeks; I would repeat every word, and how many do I remember, record every enchantment of the faery habitation.
But, no, my tale must not pause; it must be as rapid as was my fate,--I can only describe in short although strong expressions my precipitate and irremediable change from happiness to despair.[22].