The Rosicrucian. By Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Passionately wringing his hands, or pressing them upon his hot brow, knelt the student alone in his chamber. He muttered wild tones. He had yearned after the tree of knowledge; he had penetrated within its shadow, and it had darkened his soul, yet he had not tasted of its delicious fruit for which he so longed.

"It is vain, -- it is vain! " cried Basil; "I strive, but I cannot attain. I have cast all human bliss to the winds; I have poisoned my youth, -- and thine, too, Isilda, joy of my life! -- and all in vain. No immortal gifts are mine, -- I would fain pierce into Nature's depths, but she hides her face from me. O my master! thou didst tell me of the world of spirits which would surely be revealed unto me. I look up into the air, but no sylphs breathe soft zephyrs upon my hot cheek; I wander by the streams, but no sweet eyes, looking out from the depths of the fountains, meet my own; I am poor, but the gnomes of the earth answer not my bidding with treasures of silver and gold. And thou, O Fire, glorious element! art thou indeed peopled with these wonderful beings; or are they deaf to my voice, and invisible to my eyes alone, of all my brethren?"