Is there danger to thee here, lone Viola, or is the danger greater in thy unfound ideal?
And now, as the overture to some strange and wizard spectacle, closes this opening prelude.

Wilt thou hear more?
Come with thy faith prepared.
I ask not the blinded eyes, but the awakened sense.

As the enchanted Isle, remote from the homes of men,-- "Ove alcun legno Rado, o non mai va dalle nostre sponde,"-- "Ger.Lib.," cant.xiv.

69.
(Where ship seldom or never comes from our coasts.) is the space in the weary ocean of actual life to which the Muse or Sibyl (ancient in years, but ever young in aspect), offers thee no unhallowed sail,-- "Quinci ella in cima a una montagna ascende Disabitata, e d' ombre oscura e bruna; E par incanto a lei nevose rende Le spalle e i fianchi; e sensa neve alcuna Gli lascia il capo verdeggiante e vago; E vi fonda un palagio appresso un lago." (There, she a mountain's lofty peak ascends, Unpeopled, shady, shagg'd with forests brown, Whose sides, by power of magic, half-way down She heaps with slippery ice and frost and snow, But sunshiny and verdant leaves the crown With orange-woods and myrtles,--speaks, and lo! Rich from the bordering lake a palace rises slow.

Wiffin's "Translation.").