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I, the Summer breeze of twilight,
Claim her for my lonely islet;
On her cheek there is a bloom,
On her breath a faint perfume;
Faint as when the breeze is sighing,
O'er the rose or lily dying—
Wan consumption bids her eye
Glow with hectic brilliancy;
When the cowslip blooms again,
When the spring walks o'er the plain,
Winds shall sigh and daisies wave
Lightly o'er a young girl's grave.

(Spirit of the Wave rises from the Pool and sings—) A bark to the Emerald isle was bound,

The bonny blue wave danced lightly round,
The helmsman steered and the boatswain sung,
The bellied sails to the West wind swung,
And the sea below and the sky above,
Whispered together of peace and love.
The night came on, the gale grew loud,
The Emerald isle was veiled in cloud;
I called to the thunder, I called to the wind,
I called to the billows before and behind,
And I bid the lightening glare over the wave,
To light the ship to her ocean grave.

The morn arose, the heaven was blue;

But where was the bark with her gallant crew?

I beckoned the mermaid, she wept a lay,

As if her lover was cast away;

I beckoned the shark, he was gorged with food,
The edge of his teeth was dulled with blood,
And nor wave nor wind knew aught the while,
Of the bark that was bound to the Emerald isle.
Oh! the lover shall look to the sea and the sky,
To watch the vessels sweep trimly by ;

The son in his shallop shall scour the main,
But mother or maiden shall never again,
Return to the friends who await them in vain.

(The Spirit of the Mountain descends on a cataract, from the summit of Llynn-y-Van, and sings-)

"Twas night, the spring-moon shone adown the green hill,

The Serfs in their cottage lay sleeping and still,

I summoned a rain-cloud that swept o'er the heath, And bade him descend to the vintage of death;

I summoned a cataract foaming along,

He heard me, and chorussed his wild mountain song,

While the rain-cloud and flood dashed in thunder

below,

Like an army to rush on its slumbering foe

The morrow sprung up, as a bride from her bed,
But the streams of the valley were strangled with dead;
The flood was around them, the flood was on all-
Spread o'er the drowned earth like its funeral pall;
And the mountains, methought, when their torrents
were hushed,

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Caught a glance from the pitying sun-set, and blushed—
Adieu to the home, where the shepherd's pipe rung,
Adieu to the groves where the nightingale sung,
Adieu to the peasants, the fair and the brave;
For the valley that cradled, now yields them a grave.

(The Spirit of the Grave rises from the earth, and sings—)

In the lazar vaults I build my cell,

Where death and his gristly phantoms dwell;
I bid the Vampire gorge the blood

Of the charnelled dead, for his nightly food;
I bid the night-winds whistle and moan
Through the toothless jaws of the skeleton;
And conscience frown with lowering eye,
On guilt, and its immortality.-

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I have a spirit that came to me,

When the last spring-moon looked over the lea;
She was a mother, and she was a child;

But the clod of the valley is over her piled;

She died, and her spectre to-night shall appear,
For a mortal is waiting to welcome it here.

THE INCANTATION.

Spectre-spectre-hither come
On your night-wind from the tomb :
By the hell that flames around you,
By the dæmons that surround you,
By your corse that yields him food,
"Till the flesh-worm bursts with blood;
Hither come-for one is here,

One to whom you once were dear.

(The ghost of a female descends on a night-wind.)

SECOND STRANGER.

Are the rites ended

FIRST STRANGER.

No! a spirit hovers

O'er the weird pool-her garb is feminine

The death-worm coils around each limb; her mouth

Breathes forth the chill fog of the sepulchre,

D D

With the rank vigour of a fresh decay;
Her form is of the earth, her shroud bedimmed
With faintest damp for the fresh coffined corse
Yet keeps the worm at bay-she bends on me
Her sightless eye-balls-mighty God! it is
My mother's ghost I gaze on-

(Shrieks and falls senseless on the earth. The spirits vanish beneath the Pool.)

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