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Updated: May 24, 2025
With the small incidents of this short journey I will not worry the reader. Suffice it that the moon was high-risen when at last I reached Merivale.
The sun being high-risen and myself famished with hunger, I set off for our habitation by paths well-hid from observation and yearning mightily to find my lady there. Having scaled the cliff I reached the little plateau, and parting the bushes, recoiled from the muzzle of a piece levelled at me by a squat, grim fellow. "What, Godby!" says I, frowning, "D'ye take me for murderer still, then?"
"No, George, there will be a moon." "But, sir, wot am I to tell your lady aunt?" "That I have taken a walk in quest of my health and sanity, George." "Be you a-goin' fur, sir?" "No further than I need." "Then I think I'll go along wi' you, sir." "No, George, I may be back before the moon is up. At least no, it will be high-risen when I return, most likely.
Presently, as I went, resolutely seeking a way to come at my desire, I found myself stumbling amid the dense gloom of tall trees; but I pushed on until before me, the moon being now high-risen, I saw the blackness cleft by a shaft of radiance and, coming nearer, stopped all at once to scowl at a small door in the wall that seemed to scowl back at me between deep buttresses.
None the less sought I with a prayer on my lips, dreading to find that white and tender body mangled by the cruel rocks, yet searching feverishly none the less. Long I stayed there, until the moon, high-risen, sent down her tender beam as though to aid me. But of this time I will write no more, since even now it is a misery to recall.
The sun was high-risen when I came again, slow and heavy-footed, to behold what the fire had left of my boat; a heap of ashes, a few fragments of charred timber. And this the sorry end of all my fond hopes, my vain schemes, my sweat and labour.
"No!" said I to myself at last, speaking my thought aloud, "No, I shall never be a poet!" I awoke uncomfortably warm, to find the high-risen sun pouring his dazzling beams full upon me while, hard by, the Tinker's fire yet smouldered; up I started to rub my eyes and stare about me upon the unfamiliar scene.
It was a night of brooding stillness and the moon, high-risen, touched the world about me with her magic, whereby things familiar became transformed into objects of wonder; tree and hedgerow took on shapes strange and fantastic; the road became a gleaming causeway whereon I walked, godlike, master of my destiny.
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