hardly comprehend him. I confess, I hardly understand the passage where he
speaks of the castle's stooping downward to the mirrored wave below, and then
soaring upward into the gleaming sky. I suppose, however, he wishes to express
the momentary illusion we experience when beholding a perfect reflection of an
old tower in the sea. We look at it as if it were not a mere shadow in the
water; and yet the real tower rises far above, and seems to float in the crimson
evening clouds. Is that the meaning?«
    »I should think it was. To me it is all a beautiful cloud landscape, which I
comprehend and feel, and yet should find some difficulty perhaps in explaining.«
    »And why need one always explain? Some feelings are quite untranslatable. No
language has yet been found for them. They gleam upon us beautifully through the
dim twilight of fancy, and yet, when we bring them close to us, and hold them up
to the light of reason, lose their beauty, all at once; as glowworms, which
glimmer with such a spiritual light in the shadows of evening, when brought in
where the candles are lighted, are found to be only worms, like so many others.«
    »Very true. We ought sometimes to be content with feeling. Here, now, is an
exquisite piece, which soothes one like the fall of evening shadows, - like the
dewy coolness of twilight after a sultry day. I shall not give you a bald
translation of my own, because I have laid up in my memory another, which,
though not very literal, equals the original in beauty. Observe how finely it
commences.
 
Many a year is in its grave
Since I crossed this restless wave,
And the evening, fair as ever,
Shines on ruin, rock, and river.
 
Then, in this same boat, beside,
Sat two comrades old and tried;
One with all a father's truth,
One with all the fire of youth.
 
One on earth in silence wrought,
And his grave in silence sought;
But the younger, brighter form
Passed in battle and in storm.
 
So, whene'er I turn my eye
Back upon the days gone by,
Saddening thoughts of friends come o'er me,
Friends who closed their course before me.
 
Yet what binds us, friend to friend,
But that soul with soul can blend?
Soul-like were those hours of yore;
Let us walk in soul once more!
 
Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee;
Take, - I give it