Hyperion

Hyperion

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hyperion, by Henry Wadsworth
Longfellow (#7 in our series by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)
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Title: Hyperion
Author: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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This eBook was created by Charles Aldarondo ([email protected]).

Hyperion
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
1882

CONTENTS.

BOOK I.
Epigraph



CHAPTER I.
THE HERO.



CHAPTER II.
THE CHRIST OF ANDERNACH.

CHAPTER III.
HOMUNCULUS.



CHAPTER IV.
THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER.



CHAPTER V.
JEAN PAUL, THE ONLY-ONE.



CHAPTER VI.
HEIDELBERG AND THE BARON.



CHAPTER VII.
LIVES OF SCHOLARS.



CHAPTER VIII.
LITERARY FAME.
BOOK II.
Epigraph

CHAPTER I.
SPRING.



CHAPTER II.
A COLLOQUY.



CHAPTER III.
OWL-TOWERS.



CHAPTER IV.
A BEER-SCANDAL.



CHAPTER V.
THE WHITE LADY'S SLIPPER AND THE PASSION-FLOWER.



CHAPTER VI.
GLIMPSES INTO CLOUD-LAND.

CHAPTER VII.
MILL-WHEELS AND OTHER WHEELS.



CHAPTER VIII.
OLD HUMBUG.



CHAPTER IX.
THE DAYLIGHT OF THE DWARFS, AND THE FALLING STAR.



CHAPTER X.
THE PARTING.
BOOK III.
Epigraph



CHAPTER I.
SUMMER-TIME.



CHAPTER II.

FOOT-TRAVELLING.



CHAPTER III.
INTERLACHEN.



CHAPTER IV.
THE EVENING AND THE MORNING STAR.



CHAPTER V.
A RAINY DAY.



CHAPTER VI.
AFTER DINNER, AND AFTER THE MANNER OF THE BEST
CRITICS.



CHAPTER VII.
TAKE CARE!



CHAPTER VIII.

THE FOUNTAIN OF OBLIVION.



CHAPTER IX.
A TALK ON THE STAIRS.
BOOK IV.
Epigraph



CHAPTER I.
A MISERERE.



CHAPTER II.
CURFEW BELLS.



CHAPTER III.
SHADOWS ON THE WALL.



CHAPTER IV.
MUSICAL SUFFERINGS OF JOHN KREISLER.

CHAPTER V.
SAINT GILGEN.



CHAPTER VI.
SAINT WOLFGANG.



CHAPTER VII.
THE STORY OF BROTHER BERNARDUS.



CHAPTER VIII.
FOOT-PRINTS OF ANGELS.



CHAPTER IX.
THE LAST PANG.

BOOK I.

Epigraph
"Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate,
Who ne'er the mournful, midnight hours
Weeping upon his bed has sate,
He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers."

CHAPTER I.
THE HERO.

In John Lyly's Endymion, Sir Topas is made to say; "Dost thou know
what a Poet is? Why, fool, a Poet is as much as one should say,--a
Poet!" And thou, reader, dost thou know what a hero is? Why, a hero is
as much as one should say,--a hero! Some romance-writers, however,
say much more than this. Nay, the old Lombard, Matteo Maria Bojardo,
set all the church-bells in Scandiano ringing, merely because he had
found a name for one of his heroes. Here, also, shall church-bells be
rung, but more solemnly.
The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness
of our life is gone. Shadows of evening fall around us, and the world
seems but a dim reflection,--itself a broader shadow. We look forward
into the coming, lonely night. The soul withdraws into itself. Then stars
arise, and the night is holy.
Paul Flemming had experienced this, though still young. The friend of
his youth was dead. The bough had broken "under the burden of the
unripe fruit." And when, after a season, he looked up again from the
blindness of his sorrow, all things seemed unreal. Like the man, whose
sight had been restored by miracle, he beheld men, as trees, walking.
His household gods were broken. He had no home. His sympathies
cried aloud from his desolate soul, and there came no answer from the
busy, turbulent world around him. He did not willingly