I tracked these streams winding in secretness far away.  I said, “I am going to myself.  I will bathe in the Fountain of Life;” and so on and on I sped northwards, with dark waters flowing beneath me and stars companioning my flight.  Then a radiance illumined the heavens, the icy peaks and caves, and I saw the Northern Lights.  Out of the diamond breast of the air I looked forth.  Below the dim world shone all with pale and wintry green; the icy crests flickered with a light reflect from the shadowy auras streaming over the horizon.  Then these auras broke out in fire, and the plains of ice were illumined.  The light flashed through the goblin caves, and lit up their frosty hearts and the fantastic minarets drooping above them.  Light above in solemn array went forth and conquered the night.  Light below with a myriad flashing spears pursued the gloom.  Its dazzling lances shivered in the heart of the ice:  they sped along the ghostly hollows; the hues of the orient seemed to laugh through winter; the peaks blossomed with starry and crystalline flowers, lilac and white and blue; they faded away, pearl, opal and pink in shimmering evanescence; then gleams of rose and amethyst traveled slowly from spar to spar, lightened and departed; there was silence before my eyes; the world once more was all a pale and wintry green.  I thought of them no more, but of the mighty and unseen tides going by me with billowy motion.  “Oh, Fountain I seek, thy waters are all about me, but where shall I find a path to Thee?” Something answered my cry, “Look in thy heart!” and, obeying the voice, the seer in me looked forth no more through the eyes of the shadowy form, but sank deep within itself.  I knew then the nature of these mystic streams; they were life, joy, love, ardour, light.  From these came the breath of life which the heart drew in with every beat, and from thence it was flashed up in illumination through the cloudy hollows of the brain.  They poured forth unceasingly; they were life in everyone; they were joy in everyone; they stirred an incommunicable love which was fulfilled only in yielding to and adoration of the vast.  But the Fountain I could not draw nigh unto; I was borne backwards from its unimaginable centre, then an arm seized me, and I was stayed.  I could see no one, but I grew quiet, full of deep quiet, out of which memory breathes only shadowiest symbols, images of power and Holy Sages, their grand faces turned to the world, as if in the benediction of universal love, pity, sympathy, and peace, ordained by Buddha; the faces of the Fathers, ancient with eternal youth, looking forth as in the imagination of the mystic Blake, the Morning Stars looked forth and sang together.  A sound as of an “Om” unceasing welled up and made an auriole of peace around them.  I would have joined in the song, but could not attain to them.  I knew if I had a deeper love I could have entered with them into unending labours amid