Soon the lights began to pale in the rolling sea of air.  Great shadows shot across it, lines of darkness pierced it and rushed together on its breast, till, at length, I was only a Shape of Flame set like a star on the bosom of immeasurable night.  Bursts of awful music gathered from far away.  Miles and miles away I heard them, thrilling faintly through the gloom.  On they came, nearer and more near, louder and more loud, till they swept past, above, below, around me, swept on rushing pinions, terrifying and enchanting me.  They floated by, ever growing fainter, till they died in space.  Then others came, and no two were akin.  Some rattled as ten thousand sistra shaken all to tune.  Some rank from the brazen throats of unnumbered clarions.  Some pealed with a loud, sweet chant of voices that were more than human; and some rolled along in the slow thunder of a million drums.  They passed; their notes were lost in dying echoes; and the silence once more pressed in upon me and overcame me.

The strength within me began to fail.  I felt my life ebbing at its springs.  Death drew near to me and his shape was Silence.  He entered at my heart, entered with a sense of numbing cold, but my brain was still alive, I could yet think.  I knew that I was drawing near the confines of the Dead.  Nay, I was dying fast, and oh, the horror of it!  I strove to pray and could not; there was no more time for prayer.  One struggle and the stillness crept into my brain.  The terror passed; an unfathomable weight of sleep pressed me down.  I was dying, I was dying, and then—­nothingness!

I was dead!

A change—­life came back to me, but between the new life and the life that had been was a gulf and difference.  Once again I stood in the darkness of the shrine, but it blinded me no more.  It was clear as the light of day, although it still was black.  I stood; and yet it was not I who stood, but rather my spiritual part, for at my feet lay my dead Self.  There it lay, rigid and still, a stamp of awful calm sealed upon its face, while I gazed on it.

And as I gazed, filled with wonder, I was caught up on the Wings of Flame and whirled away! away! faster than the lightnings flash.  Down I fell, through depths of empty space set here and there with glittering crowns of stars.  Down for ten million miles and ten times ten million, till at length I hovered over a place of soft, unchanging light, wherein were Temples, Palaces, and Abodes, such as no man ever saw in the visions of his sleep.  They were built of Flame, and they were built of Blackness.  Their spires pierced up and up; their great courts stretched around.  Even as I hovered they changed continually to the eye; what was Flame became Blackness, what was Blackness became Flame.  Here was the flash of crystal, and there the blaze of gems shone even through the glory that rolls around the city which is in the Place of Death.  There were trees, and their voice as they rustled was the voice of music; there was air, and, as it blew, its breath was the sobbing notes of song.