But on the left hand all is deepest shade.

From the highest saw-edges, where Moel Meirch cuts the golden sky, down to the very depth of the abyss, all is lustrous darkness, sooty, and yet golden still.

Let the darkness lie upon it for ever! Hidden be those woods where she stood an hour ago! Hidden that road down which, even now, they may be pacing home together!--Curse the thought! He covers his face in his hands, and shudders in every limb.
He lifts his hands from his eyes at last:--what has befallen?
Before the golden haze a white veil is falling fast.

Sea, mountain, lake, are vanishing, fading as in a dream.

Soon he can see nothing, but the twinkle of a light in Pen-y-gwryd, a thousand feet below; happy children are nestling there in innocent sleep.