162
NIGHTMARE ABBEY.
in the common name of humanity, I protest against these false and mischievous ravings. To rail against humanity for not being abstract perfection, and against human love for not realising all the splendid visions of the poets of chivalry, is to rail at the summer for not being all sunshine, and at the rose for not being always in bloom.
Mr. Cypress.
Human love! Love is not an inhabitant of the earth. We worship him as the Athenians did their Unknown God: but broken hearts are the martyrs of his faith, and the eye shall never see the form which Phantasy paints, and which Passion pursues through paths of delusive beauty; among flowers, whose odours are agonies; and trees, whose gums are poison.[1]
