"No one has my form but the I."
Schoppe, in JEAN PAUL'S Titan.
"Joy's a subtil elf.
I think man's happiest when he forgets himself."
CYRIL TOURNEUR, The Revenger's Tragedy.
On the third day of my journey, I was riding gently along a road,
apparently little frequented, to judge from the grass that grew upon
it. I was approaching a forest. Everywhere in Fairy Land forests are the
places where one may most certainly expect adventures. As I drew near, a
youth, unarmed, gentle, and beautiful, who had just cut a branch from a
yew growing on the skirts of the wood, evidently to make himself a bow,
met me, and thus accosted me:
"Sir knight, be careful as thou ridest through this forest; for it is
said to be strangely enchanted, in a sort which even those who have been
witnesses of its enchantment can hardly describe."
I thanked him for his advice, which I promised to follow, and rode on.
But the moment I entered the wood, it seemed to me that, if enchantment
there was, it must be of a good kind; for the Shadow, which had been
more than usually dark and distressing, since I had set out on this
journey, suddenly disappeared. I felt a wonderful elevation of spirits,
and began to reflect on my past life, and especially on my combat
with the giants, with such satisfaction, that I had actually to remind
myself, that I had only killed one of them; and that, but for the
brothers, I should never have had the idea of attacking them, not to
mention the smallest power of standing to it. Still I rejoiced, and
counted myself amongst the glorious knights of old; having even the
unspeakable presumption--my shame and self-condemnation at the memory
of it are such, that I write it as the only and sorest penance I can
perform--to think of myself (will the world believe it?) as side by side
with Sir Galahad!
Scarcely had the thought been born in my mind, when,
approaching me from the left, through the trees, I espied a resplendent
knight, of mighty size, whose armour seemed to shine of itself, without
the sun. When he drew near, I was astonished to see that this armour was
like my own; nay, I could trace, line for line, the correspondence of
the inlaid silver to the device on my own. His horse, too, was like mine
in colour, form, and motion; save that, like his rider, he was greater
and fiercer than his counterpart. The knight rode with beaver up. As he
halted right opposite to me in the narrow path, barring my way, I saw
the reflection of my countenance in the centre plate of shining steel on
his breastplate. Above it rose the same face--his face--only, as I have
said, larger and fiercer. I was bewildered. I could not help feeling
some admiration of him, but it was mingled with a dim conviction that he
was evil, and that I ought to fight with him.