THE CULPRIT FAY. 43 And all the jewels of the sky Around thy brow shall brightly beam! That rolls its whitening foam aboon, We'll rest on Orion's starry belt, And I will bid my sylphs to sing The song that makes the dew-mist melt; Of silvery moonshine's lengthened ray; XXXIII. She was lovely and fair to see, D 44 THE CULPRIT FAY. For he thought upon her looks so meek, And he thought of the light flush on her 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 revery, To think upon his virgin bride, Was worth all heaven and earth beside. XXXIV. "Lady," he cried, "I have sworn to-night, On the word of a fairy knight, To do my sentence-task aright; My honour scarce is free from stain, Its mandate must be answered now." But she led him to the palace gate, And called the sylphs who hovered there, With charm and spell she blessed it there, Then round him cast the shadowy shroud, THE CULPRIT FAY. And pressed his hand as she bade him fly There was a star would fall to-night. XXXV. Borne afar on the wings of the blast, The streaming of the rocket-light. XXXVI. The star is yet in the vault of heaven, And now 'tis fitful and uneven, And now 'tis deadly pale; And now 't is wrapped in sulphur smoke, 45 46 THE CULPRIT FAY. As swift as the glance of the arrowy lance As swift as the wind in its trail behind The fiends of the clouds are bellowing loud, 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's speed, Then wheeled around to the fairy ground, Ouphe and goblin! imp and sprite! 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, THE CULPRIT FAY. 47 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 hums in his ears and flaps his face: But hark! from tower on tree-top high, Shapes of moonlight! flit and fade ! |