walls that sheltered the beloved of my soul. My mind was nevertheless idle.

I pored over the poetry of old times; I studied the metaphysics of Plato

and Berkeley. I read the histories of Greece and Rome, and of England's

former periods, and I watched the movements of the lady of my heart. At

night I could see her shadow on the walls of her apartment; by day I viewed

her in her flower-garden, or riding in the park with her usual companions.

Methought the charm would be broken if I were seen, but I heard the music

of her voice and was happy. I gave to each heroine of whom I read, her

beauty and matchless excellences--such was Antigone, when she guided the

blind Oedipus to the grove of the Eumenides, and discharged the funeral

rites of Polynices; such was Miranda in the unvisited cave of Prospero;

such Haidee, on the sands of the Ionian island. I was mad with excess of

passionate devotion; but pride, tameless as fire, invested my nature, and

prevented me from betraying myself by word or look.

In the mean time, while I thus pampered myself with rich mental repasts, a

peasant would have disdained my scanty fare, which I sometimes robbed from

the squirrels of the forest. I was, I own, often tempted to recur to the

lawless feats of my boy-hood, and knock down the almost tame pheasants that

perched upon the trees, and bent their bright eyes on me. But they were the

property of Adrian, the nurslings of Idris; and so, although my imagination

rendered sensual by privation, made me think that they would better become

the spit in my kitchen, than the green leaves of the forest,

Nathelesse,

I checked my haughty will, and did not eat;

101

The Last Man