Around thy brow shall brightly beam;
And thou shalt bathe thee in the stream
That rolls its whitening foam aboon
And ride upon the lightning's gleam,
And dance upon the orbèd moon.
We'll sit within the Pleiad ring,
We'll rest on Orion's starry belt,
And I will bid my sylphs to sing

The song that makes the dew-mist melt.
Their harps are of the umber shade,
That hides the blush of waking day,
And every gleamy string is made
Of silvery moonshine's lengthened ray.
And thou shalt pillow on my breast,
While heavenly breathings float around,
And, with the sylphs of ether blest,
Forget the joys of fairy ground.
She was lovely and fair to see,
And the Elfin's heart beat fitfully;
But lovelier far, and still more fair,
The earthly form imprinted there.
Naught he saw in the heavens above
Was half so dear as his mortal love;
For he thought upon her looks so meek,
And he thought of the light flush on
cheek.

Never again might he bask and lie

On that sweet cheek and moonlight eye;
But in his dreams her form to see,
To clasp her in his reverie,

To think upon his virgin bride,

Was worth all heaven and earth beside.

her

Lady," he cried, "I have sworn to-night,

On the word of a fairy-knight,

To do my sentence task aright;
My honor scarce is free from stain,
I may not soil its snows again;
Betide me weal, betide me woe,
Its mandate must be answered now."
Her bosom heaved with many a sigh,
The tear was in her drooping eye;
But she led him to the palace gate,
And called the sylphs who hovered there,
And bade them fly and bring him straight
Of clouds condensed a sable car.
With charm and spell she blessed it there
From all the fiends of upper air;
Then round him cast the shadowy shroud,
And tied his steed behind the cloud,
And pressed his hand as she bade him fly
Far to the verge of the northern sky;
For by its wane and wavering light,
There was a star would fall to-night.

Borne afar on the wings of the blast
Northward away, he speeds him fast,
And his courser follows the cloudy wain,
Till the hoof-strokes fall like pattering rain.
The clouds roll backward as he flies,
And he has reached the northern plain,

And backed his fire-fly steed again,
Ready to follow in its flight
The streaming of the rocket-light.

The star is yet in the vault of heaven,
But it rocks in the summer gale;
And now 'tis fitful and uneven,
And now 'tis deadly pale;

And now 'tis wrapped in sulphur-smoke,
And quenched in its rayless beam,
And now with a rattling thunder-stroke
It bursts in flash and flame.

As swift as the glance of the arrowy lance,
That the storm-spirit flings from high,
The star-shots flew o'er the welkin blue,
As it fell from the sheeted sky;

As swift as the wind, in its trail behind
The Elfin gallops along,

The fiends of the cloud are bellowing loud,
But the sylphide charm is strong.

He gallops unhurt in the shower of fire,
While the cloud-fiends fly from the blaze;
He watches each flake till its sparks expire,
And rides in the light of its rays;

But he drove his steed to the lightning speed,
And caught a glimmering spark,

Then wheeled around to the fairy ground,
And sped through the midnight dark.

Ouphe and goblin! imp and sprite!

Elf of eve, and starry Fay!

Ye that love the moon's soft light,
Hither, hither wend your way.
Twine ye in a jocund ring,
Sing and trip it merrily,

Hand to hand and wing to wing,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree,

Hail the wanderer again,

With dance and song and lute and lyre;
Pure his wing and strong his chain,
And doubly bright his fairy fire.
Twine ye in an airy round,
Brush the dew and print the lea,
Skip and gambol, hop and bound,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.

The beetle guards our holy ground,
He flies about the haunted place,
And if mortal there be found,
He hums in his ears and flaps his face.
The leaf-harp sounds our roundelay;
The owlet's eyes our lanterns be;
Thus we sing, and dance, and play,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.

But hark! from tower on tree-top high,
The sentry-elf his call has made;
A streak is in the eastern sky,
Shapes of moonlight flit and fade;
The hill-tops gleam in morning's spring,
The sky-lark shakes his dappled wing,
The day-glimpse glimmers on the lawn,
The cock has crowed-and the Fays are gone