“Stand up manfully!” Yes! ... this is what he, Theos Alwyn, meant to do.  He would “stand up manfully” against the howling iconoclasm and atheism of the Age,—­he would be Poet henceforth in the true meaning of the word, namely Maker, . . he would make not break the grand ideal hopes and heaven-climbing ambitions of Humanity! ... he would endeavor his utmost best to be that “Hierarch and Pontiff of the world”—­as a modern rugged Apostle of Truth has nobly said,—­“who Prometheus-like can shape new Symbols and bring new fire from heaven to fix them into the deep, infinite faculties of Man.”

With a brief silent prayer, he turned away at last, and walked slowly, in the lovely silence of the early Eastern morning, back to the place from whence he had last night wandered,—­the Hermitage of Elzear, near the Ruins of Babylon.  He soon came in sight of it, and also perceived Elzear himself, stooping over a small plot of ground in front of his dwelling, apparently gathering herbs.  When he approached, the old man looked up and smiled, giving him a silent, expressively courteous morning greeting,—­by his manner it was evident that he thought his guest had merely been out for an early stroll ere the heat of the day set in.  And yet Al-Kyris! ...  How real had seemed that dream-existence in that dream-city!  The figure of Elzear looked scarcely more substantial than the phantom-forms of Sah-luma, Zephoranim, Khosrul, Zuriel, or Zabastes,—­while Lysia’s exquisite face and seductive form, Niphrata’s pensive beauty, and all the local characteristics of the place, were stamped on the dreamer’s memory as faithfully as scenes flashed by the sun on the plates of photography!  True, the pictures were perhaps now slightly fading into the similitude of pale negatives, . . but still, would not everything that happened in the actual world merge into that same undecided dimness with the lapse of time?

He thought so, . . and smiled at the thought, ... the transitory nature of earthly things was a subject for joy to him now,—­not regret.  With a kindly word or two to his venerable host, he went through the open door of the Hermitage, and entered the little room he had left only a few hours previously.  It appeared to him as familiar and UNfamiliar as Al-Kyris itself! ... till raising his eyes he saw the great Crucifix against the wall,—­the sacred Symbol whose meaning he had forgotten and hopelessly longed for in his Dream,—­and from which, before his visit to the field of Ardath, he had turned with a sense of bitter scorn and proud rejection.  But now! ...  Now he gazed upon it in unspeakable remorse,—­in tenderest desire to atone, ... the sweet, grave, patient Eyes of the holy Figure seemed to meet his with a wondrous challenge of love, longing, and most fraternal, sympathetic comprehension of his nature. ... he paused, looking, ... and the pre-eminently false words of George Herbert suddenly occurred to him, “Thy Saviour sentenced joy!”