Towards dawn he awoke. O what sweet music! His soul was all dewy wet. Over his limbs in sleep pale cool waves of light had passed. He lay still, as if his soul lay amid cool waters, scious of faint sweet music. His mind was waking slowly to a tremulous m knowledge, a m inspiration. A spirit filled him, pure as the purest water, sweet as dew, moving as music. But how faintly it was ihed, how passionlessly, as if the seraphim themselves were breathing upon him! His soul was waking slowly, fearing to awake wholly. It was that windless hour of dawn when madness wakes and strange plants open to the light and the moth flies forth silently.
An entment of the heart! The night had been ented. In a dream or vision he had known the ecstasy of seraphic life. Was it an instant of entment only or long hours and years and ages?
The instant of inspiration seemed now to be reflected from all sides at once from a multitude of cloudy circumstances of what had happened or ……（内容加载失败！）
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