IV. They come from beds of lichen green, 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, 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, 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, On pillars of mottled tortoise shell 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, 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, "Tied to the hornet's shardy wings; Of the worm, and the bug, and the murdered fly: 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; Till the sturgeon leaps in the bright moonshine, And catch a drop from his silver bow. 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, Mount thy steed and spur him high To the heaven's blue canopy; And when thou seest a shooting star, The last faint spark of its burning train Shall light the elfin lamp again. Thou hast heard our sentence, Fay; 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, 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, And through the wood shelter, How does the water come down at Lodore? And there it lies darkling; It hastens along, conflicting, and strong, Now striking and raging, As if a war waging, Its caverns and rocks among. Rising and leaping, Eddying and whisking, Spouting and frisking, Twining and twisting, With endless rebound; Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound. Reeding and speeding, And shocking and rocking, And quivering and shivering, And hitting and splitting, And shining and twining, And rattling and battling, And heaving and cleaving, And falling and crawling and sprawling, And gleaming and steaming and streaming and beaming, And thumping and flumping and bumping and jumping, And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing, |