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"No matter," said Maltravers, almost alarmed, and starting from these thoughts, "I am betrothed to one who loves me it is folly and dishonour to repent and to repine. I have gone through the best years of youth without finding the Egeria with whom the cavern would be sweeter than a throne. Why live to the grave a vain and visionary Nympholept?
"No matter," said Maltravers, almost alarmed, and starting from these thoughts, "I am betrothed to one who loves me it is folly and dishonour to repent and to repine. I have gone through the best years of youth without finding the Egeria with whom the cavern would be sweeter than a throne. Why live to the grave a vain and visionary Nympholept?
Thanks to it all thanks to it I did not become a nympholept. I did not haunt Parliament Hill o' nights. I did not spy upon the darkling motions of Mrs. Ventris. Desire, appetite, sex were not involved at all in this affair; nor yet was love. I was very prone to love, but I did not love Mrs. Ventris. In whatsoever fairy being I had seen there had been nothing which held physical attraction for me.
What reflections to be conned in the dungeons of Avignon, by a man who had pushed into all the fervour of fanaticism four passions, a single one of which has, in excess, sufficed to wreck the strongest reason passions, which in themselves it is most difficult to combine, the dreamer the aspirant the very nympholept of Freedom, yet of Power of Knowledge, yet of Religion!
It is program music of the most legitimate sort, in full accord with Beethoven's canon, "Mehr Ausdruck der Empfindung als Malerei." It has no aim of imitating springtime noises, but seeks to stimulate by suggestion the hearer's creative imagination, and provoke by a musical telepathy the emotions that swayed the nympholept composer.
It is related of one Sultan that when a "Bashador" remonstrated with him for not fulfilling a contract, he replied, "Am I then a Nazarene, that I should be bound by my word?" Is it Pan's breath, fierce in the tremulous maiden-hair, That bids fear creep as a snake through the woodlands, felt In the leaves that it stirs not yet, in the mute bright air, In the stress of the sun? A Nympholept.
He would hang for hours over some scene in nature, caught in a woodland spell, like a nympholept of old; but when he tried to put in words what he had seen, what a poor piece of ornamental gardening the thing was!
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