His parents lamented and shed tears. Rosebud kept her
chamber, and wept bitterly.
Hyacinth now ran, as fast as he could, through valleys and wildernesses,
over mountains and streams, toward the land of mystery. Everywhere he
inquired--of men and beasts, of rocks and trees,--after the sacred goddess
Isis. Many laughed, many held their peace; nowhere did he get an answer.
At first he passed through a rugged wild country; mists and clouds threw
themselves in his way, but he rushed on impetuously. Then he came to
boundless deserts of sand--mere glowing dust; and as he went his mood
changed also; the time became tedious to him, and his inward unrest
abated; he grew gentler, and the stormy impulse in him passed by degrees
into a mild yet powerful attraction, wherein his whole spirit was
dissolved. It seemed as if many years lay behind him.
And now the country became again richer and more varied, the air soft and
blue, the way smoother. Green bushes enticed him with their pleasant
shadows, but he did not understand their speech; they seemed indeed not to
speak, and yet they filled his heart with their green hues, and their
cool, still presence. Ever higher in him waxed that same sweet longing,
and ever broader and juicier grew the leaves, ever louder and more jocund
the birds and beasts, balmier the fruits, darker the heavenly blue, warmer
the air, and more ardent his love. The time went ever faster, as if it
knew itself near the goal.
One day he met a crystal rivulet, and a multitude of flowers, coming down
into a valley between dark, columnar cliffs.
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