IV.

They come from beds of lichen green,
They creep from the mullein's velvet screen;
Some on the backs of beetles fly

From the silver tops of moon-touched trees,

Where they swung in their cobweb hammocks high, And rocked about in the evening breeze;

Some from the humbird's downy nest

They had driven him out by elfin power,

And, pillowed on plumes of his rainbow breast, Had slumbered there till the charmed hour;

Some had lain in the scoop of the rock,

With glittering ising-stars inlaid;

And some had opened the four-o'clock, And stole within its purple shade.

And now they throng the moonlight glade, Above-below-on every side,

Their little minim forms arrayed In the tricksy pomp of fairy pride!

V.

They come not now to print the lea,
In freak and dance around the tree,
Or at the mushroom board to sup,
And drink the dew from the buttercup;
A scene of sorrow waits them now,
For an Ouphe has broken his vestal vow;
He has loved an earthly maid,

And left for her his woodland shade;

He has lain upon her lip of dew,
And sunned him in her eye of blue,
Fanned her cheek with his wing of air,
Played in the ringlets of her hair,
And, nestling on her snowy breast,
Forgot the lily king's behest.
For this the shadowy tribes of air

To the elfin court must haste away:
And now they stand expectant there,
To hear the doom of the culprit Fay.

VI.

The throne was reared upon the grass,
Of spicewood and of sassafras;

On pillars of mottled tortoise shell
Hung the burnished canopy-
And over it gorgeous curtains fell
Of the tulip's crimson drapery.
The monarch sat on his judgment seat,
On his brow the crown imperial shone,
The prisoner Fay was at his feet,

And his peers were ranged around the throne. He waved his scepter in the air,

He looked around and calmly spoke;

His brow was grave and his eye severe,

But his voice in a softened accent broke:

VII.

"Fairy! Fairy! list and mark:

Thou hast broke thine elfin chain;

Thy flamewood lamp is quenched and dark, And thy wings are dyed with a deadly stain Thou hast sullied thine elfin purity

In the glance of a mortal maiden's eye,

Thou hast scorned our dread decree,

And thou shouldst pay the forfeit high; But well I know her sinless mind

Is pure as the angel forms above, Gentle and meek, and chaste and kind, Such as a spirit well might love; Fairy had she spot or taint,

Bitter had been thy punishment.

"Tied to the hornet's shardy wings;
Tossed on the pricks of nettles' stings;
Or seven long ages doomed to dwell
With the lazy worm in the walnut shell;
Or every night to writhe and bleed
Beneath the tread of the centipede;
Or bound in a cobweb dungeon dim,
Your jailer a spider huge and grim,
Amid the carrion bodies to lie,

Of the worm, and the bug, and the murdered fly:

These it had been your lot to bear,

Had a stain been found on the earthly fair.

Now list, and mark our mild decree

Fairy, this your doom must be:

VIII.

"Thou shalt seek the beach of sand

Where the water bounds the elfin land;
Thou shalt watch the oozy brine

Till the sturgeon leaps in the bright moonshine,
Then dart the glistening arch below,

And catch a drop from his silver bow.
The water sprites will wield their arms
And dash around, with roar and rave,
And vain are the woodland spirits' charms,
They are the imps that rule the wave.
Yet trust thee in thy single might:
If thy heart be pure and thy spirit right,
Thou shalt win the warlock fight.

IX.

"If the spray-bead gem be won,

The stain of thy wing is washed away:
But another errand must be done

Ere thy crime be lost for aye;

Thy flamewood lamp is quenched and dark,
Thou must reillume its spark.

Mount thy steed and spur him high

To the heaven's blue canopy;

And when thou seest a shooting star,

Follow it fast, and follow it far

The last faint spark of its burning train

Shall light the elfin lamp again.

Thou hast heard our sentence, Fay;
Hence! to the water side, away!"

THE CATARACT OF LODORE.

BY ROBERT SOUTHEY.

[For biographical sketch, see Vol. 20, page 245.] How does the water come down at Lodore? My little boy asked me thus, once on a time, Moreover, he tasked me to tell him in rhyme; Anon at the word there first came one daughter, And then came another to second and third The request of their brother, and hear how the water Comes down at Lodore, with its rush and its roar, As many a time they had seen it before.

So I told them in rhyme, for of rhymes I had store.

And 'twas in my vocation that thus I should sing, Because I was laureate to them and the King.

From its sources which well

In the tarn on the fell,

From its fountain in the mountain,

Its rills and its gills,

Through moss and through brake,
It runs and it creeps,
For a while, till it sleeps,
In its own little lake,
And thence at departing,
Awakening and starting,
It runs through the reeds,
And away it proceeds,
Through meadow and glade,
In sun and in shade,

And through the wood shelter,
Among crags and its flurry,
Helter-skelter-hurry-skurry.

How does the water come down at Lodore?
Here it comes sparkling,

And there it lies darkling;
Here smoking and frothing,
Its tumult and wrath in,

It hastens along, conflicting, and strong,
Now striking and raging,

As if a war waging,
Its caverns and rocks among.

Rising and leaping,

Sinking and creeping,

Swelling and flinging,

Showering and springing,

Eddying and whisking,

Spouting and frisking,

Twining and twisting,

Around and around,
Collecting, disjecting,

With endless rebound;
Smiting and fighting,
A sight to delight in ;
Confounding, astounding,

Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound.

Reeding and speeding,

And shocking and rocking,
And darting and parting,
And threading and spreading,
And whizzing and hissing,

And dripping and skipping,
And whitening and brightening,

And quivering and shivering,

And hitting and splitting,

And shining and twining,

And rattling and battling,
And shaking and quaking,
And pouring and roaring,
And waving and raving,
And tossing and crossing,
And flowing and growing,
And running and stunning,
And hurrying and skurrying,
And glittering and frittering,
And gathering and feathering,
And dinning and spinning,
And foaming and roaming,
And dropping and hopping,
And working and jerking,

And heaving and cleaving,
And thundering and floundering;

And falling and crawling and sprawling,
And driving and riving and striving,
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling,
And sounding and bounding and rounding,
And bubbling and troubling and doubling,
Dividing and gliding and sliding,

And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling,
And clattering and battering and shattering;

And gleaming and steaming and streaming and beaming,
And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing,
And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping,
And curling and whirling and purling and twirling,
Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting,
Delaying and straying and playing and spraying,
Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing,
Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling,

And thumping and flumping and bumping and jumping, And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing,