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Then high from the ground did the grim monster lift Enthroned in the midst on an emerald bright, The loud-screaming maid like a blast;

Fair Geraldine sat without peer; And he sped through the air like a meteor swift, Her robe was a gleam of the first blush of light, While the clouds, wand’ring by him, did fearfully drift And her mantle the fleece of a noon-cloud white, To the right and the left as he pass’d.

And a beam of the moon was her spear. Now suddenly sloping his hurricane flight, In an accent that stole on the still charmed air With an eddying whirl he descends;

Like the first gentle language of Eve, The air all below him becomes black as night, Thus spake from her chariot the fairy so fair: And the ground where he treads, as if moved with “I come at the call, but, oh Paint-King, beware,

Like the surge of the Caspian, bends. [affright, Beware if again you deceive.”
" I am here!” said the fiend, and he thundering «'T is true," said the monster, “ thou queen of my

At the gates of a mountainous cave; [knocked Thy portrait I oft have essay’d; [heart,
The gates open flew, as by magic unlock'd, Yet ne'er to the canvas could I with my art
While the peaks of the mount, reeling to and fro, The least of thy wonderful beauties impart ;

Like an island of ice on the wave. (rocked And my failure with scorn you repaid.
"Oh, mercy!" cried Ellen, and swoon'd in his arms, “ Now I swear by the light of the comet-king's tail!"

But the Paint-Kixg, he scoff"d at her pain. And he tower'd with pride as he spoke,
· Prithee, love," said the monster, “what mean these “ If again with these magical colours I fail,
alarms?"

The crater of Etna shall hence be my jail,
She hears not, she sees not the terrible charms, And my food shall be sulphur and smoke.
That work her to horror again.

« But if I succeed, then, oh, fair Geraldine ! She opens her lids, but no longer her eyes

Thy promise with justice I claim, Behold the fair youth she would woo ;

And thou, queen of fairies, shalt ever be mine, Now appears the Paint-King in his natural guise ; The bride of my bed; and thy portrait divine His face, like a palette of villanous dyes,

Shall fill all the earth with my fame.” Black and white, red and yellow, and blue.

He spake; when, behold, the fair Geraldine's form On the skull of a Titan, that Heaven defied,

On the canvas enchantingly glow'd; Sat the fiend, like the grim giant Gog,

His touches-they flew like the leaves in a storm ; While aloft to his mouth a hugh pipe he applied,

And the pure pearly white and the carnation warm Twice as big as the Eddystone Lighthouse, descried

Contending in harmony flow'd.
As it looms through an easterly fog.

And now did the portrait a twin-sister seem
And anon, as he puff'd the vast volumes, were seen, To the figure of Geraldine fair:
In horrid festoons on the wall,

With the same sweet expression did faithfully teem Legs and arms, heads and bodies emerging between, Each muscle, each feature ; in short not a gleam Like the drawing-room grim of the Scotch Sawney Was lost of her beautiful hair.

By the Devil dressed out for a ball. [Beane, 4 Ah me!" cried the damsel, and fell at his feet,

’T was the fairy herself! but, alas, her blue eyes * Must I hang on these walls to be dried ?".

Still a pupil did ruefully lack;

And who shall describe the terrific surprise « Oh, no!" said the fiend, while he sprung from his “ A far nobler fortune thy person shall meet; (seat,

That seized the Paint-King when, behold, he desInto paint will I grind thee, my bride !"

Not a speck on his palette of black ! [cries Then, seizing the maid by her dark auburn hair,

“I am lost !" said the fiend, and he shook like a leaf; An oil jug he plunged her within ;

When, casting his eyes to the ground, Seven days, seven nights, with the shrieks of despair,

He saw the lost pupils of Ellen with grief Did Ellen in torment convulse the dun air, In the jaws of a mouse, and the sly little thief All covered with oil to the chin.

Whisk away from his sight with a bound. On the morn of the eighth, on a huge sable stone

“I am lost !” said the fiend, and he fell like a stone; Then Ellen, all reeking, he laid ;

Then rising the fairy in ire With a rock for his muller he crushed every bone,

With a touch of her finger she loosen'd her zone, But, though ground to jelly, still, still did she groan;

(While the limbs on the wall gave a terrible groan,) For life had forsook not the maid.

And she swell'd to a column of fire. Now reaching his palette, with masterly care Her spear, now a thunder-bolt, flash'd in the air, Each tint on its surface he spread ;

And sulphur the vault fill'd around : The blue of her eyes, and the brown of her hair, She smote the grim monster; and now by the hair And the pearl and the white of her forehead so fair, High-lifting, she hurl’d him in speechless despair And her lips' and her cheeks' rosy red.

Down the depths of the chasm profound. Then, stamping his foot, did the monster exclaim, Then over the picture thrice waving her spear, "Now I brave, cruel fairy, thy scorn!"

“ Come forth !” said the good Geraldine ; When lo! from a chasm wide-yawning there came When, behold, from the canvas descending, appear A light tiny chariot of rose-colour'd flame,

Fair Ellen, in person more lovely than e'er, By a team of ten glow-worms upborne.

With grace more than ever divine !

THE SYLPHS OF THE SEASONS,

A POET'S DREAM.

Nor long I felt the blinding pain ; For soon upon a mountain plain

I gazed with wonder new. There high a castle rear'd its head; And far below a region spread, Where every season seem'd to shed

Its own peculiar hue.

Long has it been my fate to hear
The slave of Mammon, with a sneer,

My indolence reprove.
Ah, little knows he of the care,
The toil, the hardship that I bear
While lolling in my elbow-chair,

And seeming scarce to move :

Now, at the castle's massy gate,
Like one that's blindly urged by fate,

A bugle-horn I blew.
The mountain-plain it shook around,
The vales return'd a hollow sound,
And, moving with a sigh profound,

The portals open flew.

For, mounted on the poet's steed,
I there my ceaseless journey speed

O'er mountain, wood, and stream:
And oft, within a little day,
Mid comets fierce, 't is mine to stray,
And wander o'er the milky-way

To catch a poet's dream.

Then entering, from a glittering hall
I heard a voice seraphic call,

That bade me « Ever reign!
All hail!" it said in accent wild,
« For thou art Nature's chosen child,
Whom wealth nor blood has e'er defiled,

Hail, lord of this domain !"

But would the man of lucre know
What riches from my labours flow-

A DREAM is my reply.
And who for wealth has ever pined,
That had a world within his mind,
Where every treasure he may find,

And joys that never die! One night, my task diurnal done, (For I had travell’d with the sun

O’er burning sands, o'er snows,) Fatigued, I sought the couch of rest; My wonted prayer to Heaven address'd; But scarce had I my pillow press'd,

When thus a vision rose :

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Methought, within a desert cave,
Cold, dark, and solemn as the grave,

I suddenly awoke.
It seem'd of sable night the cell,
Where, save when from the ceiling fell
An oozing drop, her silent spell

No sound had ever broke.
There motionless I stood alone,
Like some strange monument of stone

Upon a barren wild ;
Or like (so solid and profound
The darkness seem'd that wall’d me round)
A man that's buried under ground,

Where pyramids are piled. Thus fix'd, a dreadful hour I pass’d, And now I heard, as from a blast,

A voice pronounce my name: Nor long upon my ear it dwelt, When round me 'gan the air to melt, And motion once again I felt

Quick circling o'er my frame.
Again it call’d; and then a ray,
That seem'd a gushing fount of day,

Across the cavern stream'd.
Half-struck with terror and delight,
I hail'd the little blessed light,
And follow'd till my aching sight

An orb of darkness secm'd.

And thus the foremost of the train: “Be thine the throne, and thine to reign

O'er all the varying year! But ere thou rulest, the Fates command, That of our chosen rival band A Sylph shall win thy heart and hand,

Thy sovereignty to share.
“ For we, the sisters of a birth,
Do rule by turns the subject earth

To serve ungrateful man ;
But since our varied toils impart
No joy to his capricious heart,
"Tis now ordain'd that human art

Shall rectify the plan.” Then spake the Sylph of Spring serene, “ 'T is I thy joyous heart, I ween,

With sympathy shall move:
For I with living melody
Of birds in choral symphony,
First waked thy soul to poesy,

To piety and love. “ When thou, at call of vernal breeze, And beckoning bough of budding trees,

Hast left thy sullen fire ;

“ That mid the noontide, sunny haze Did in thy languid bosom raise

The raptures of the boy ; When, waked as if to second birth, Thy soul through every pore look'd forth, And gazed upon the beauteous earth

With myriad eyes of joy : « That made thy heart, like HIS above, To flow with universal love

For every living thing.
And, O! if I, with ray divine,
Thus tempering, did thy soul refine,
Then let thy gentle heart be mine,

And bless the Sylph of Spring."

And stretch'd thee in some mossy dell,
And heard the browsing wether's bell,
Blithe echoes rousing from their cell

To swell the tinkling choir :
« Or heard from branch of flowering thorn
The song of friendly cuckoo warn

The tardy-moving swain ;
Hast bid the purple swallow hail ;
And seen him now through ether sail,
Now sweeping downward o'er the vale,

And skimming now the plain ;
* Then, catching with a sudden glance
The bright and silver-clear expanse

Of some broad river's stream,
Beheld the boats adown it glide,
And motion wind again the tide,
Where, chain'd in ice by winter's pride,

Late roll'd the heavy team :
“Or, lured by some fresh-scented gale
That woo'd the moored fisher's sail

To tempt the mighty main,
Hast watch'd the dim, receding shore,
Now faintly seen the ocean o’er,
Like hanging cloud, and now no more

To bound the sapphire plain ;
* Then, wrapt in night, the scudding bark,
(That seem'd, self-poised amid the dark,

Through upper air to leap,)
Beheld, from thy most fearful height,
The rapid dolphin's azure light
Cleave, like a living meteor bright,

The darkness of the deep:
“'T was mine the warm, awakening hand
That made thy grateful heart expand,

And feel the high control
Of Him, the mighty Power that moves
Amid the waters and the groves,
And through his vast creation proves

His omnipresent soul.
« Or, brooding o'er some forest rill,
Fringed with the early daffodil,

And quivering maiden-hair,
When thou hast mark'd the dusky bed,
With leaves and water-rust o'erspread,
That seem'd an amber light to shed

On all was shadow'd there;
And thence, as by its murmur call’d,
The current traced to where it brawl'd

Beneath the noontide ray ;
And there beheld the checker'd shade
Of waves, in many a sinuous braid,
That o'er the sunny channel play'd,

With motion ever gay :
“ 'T was I to these the magic gave,
That made thy heart, a willing slave,

To gentle Nature bend; And taught thee how with tree and flower, And whispering gale, and dropping shower, In converse sweet to pass the hour,

As with an early friend :

And next the Sylph of Summer fair ;
The while her crisped, golden hair

Half-veil'd her sunny eyes:
“ Nor less may I thy homage claim,
At touch of whose exhaling flame
The fog of Spring, that chilld thy frame,

In genial vapour flies.
« Oft, by the heat of noon oppress'd
With flowing hair and open vest,

Thy footsteps have I won
To mossy couch of welling grot,
Where thou hast bless'd thy happy lot,
That thou in that delicious spot

Mayst sce, not feel, the sun: « Thence tracing from the body's change, In curious philosophic range,

The motion of the mind; And how from thought to thought it flew, Still hoping in each vision new The fairy land of bliss to view,

But ne'er that land to find.

“ And then, as grew thy languid mood, To some embowering, silent wood

I led thy careless way ; Where high from tree to tree in air Thou saw'st the spider swing her snare, So bright !-as if, entangled there,

The sun had left a ray :
“Or lured thee to some beetling steep,
To mark the deep and quiet sleep

That wrapt the tarn below;
And mountain blue and forest green
Inverted on its plane serene,
Dim gleaming through the filmy sheen

That glazed the painted show;
« Perchance, to mark the fisher's skiff
Swift from beneath some shadowy cliff

Dart, like a gust of wind;
And, as she skimm’d the sunny lake,
In many a playful wreath her wake
Far-trailing, like a silvery snake,

With sinuous length behind. “Not less, when hill, and dale, and heath Still Evening wrapt in mimic death,

Thy spirit true I proved :

“ With these I may not urge my suit, Of Summer's patient toil the fruit,

For mortal purpose given; Nor may it fit my sober mood To sing of sweetly murmuring flood, Or dyes of many-colour'd wood,

That mock the bow of heaven.

“But, know,'t was mine the secret power That wak'd thee at the midnight hour

In bleak November's reign :
'T was I the spell around thee cast,
When thou didst hear the hollow blast
In murmurs tell of pleasures past,

That ne'er would come again :

“ And led thee, when the storm was o'er, To hear the sullen ocean roar,

By dreadful calm oppress'd ; Which still, though not a breeze was there, Its mountain-billows heav'd in air, As if a living thing it were,

That strove in vain for rest.

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Around thee as the darkness stole,
Before thy wild, creative soul
I bade each fairy vision roll

Thine infancy had loved.
“Then o'er the silent, sleeping land,
Thy fancy, like a magic wand,

Forth call'd the elfin race :
And now around the fountain's brim
In circling dance they gayly skim;
And now upon its surface swim,

And water-spiders chase ;
« Each circumstance of sight or sound
Peopling the vacant air around

With visionary life:
For if amid a thicket stirr’d,
Or fitting bat, or wakeful bird,
Then straight thy eager fancy heard

The din of fairy strife ;
“ Now, in the passing beetle's hum
The elfin army's goblin drum

To pigmy battle sound; And now, where dripping dew-drops plash On waving grass, their bucklers clash, And now their quivering lances flash,

Wide-dealing death around :
« Or if the moon's effulgent form
The passing clouds of sudden storm

In quick succession veil ;
Vast serpents now, their shadows glide,
And, coursing now the mountain's side,
A band of giants huge, they stride

O’er hill, and wood, and dale.
“ And still on many a service rare
Could I descant, if need there were,

My firmer claim to bind.
But rest I most my high pretence
On that, my genial influence,
Which made the body's indolence

The vigour of the mind.”
And now, in accents deep and low,
Like voice of fondly-cherish'd wo,

The Sylph of Autumn sad :
« Though I may not of raptures sing,
That graced the gentle song of Spring,
Like Summer, playful pleasures bring,

Thy youthful heart to glad ;
“ Yet still may I in hope aspire
Thy heart to touch with chaster fire,

And purifying love:
For I with vision high and holy,
And spell of quickening melancholy,
Thy soul from sublunary folly

First raised to worlds above.
“What though be mine the treasures fair
Of purple grape and yellow pear,

And fruits of various hue,
And harvests rich of golden grain,
That dance in waves along the plain
To merry song of reaping swain,

Beneath the welkin blue;

“ 'T was I, when thou, subdued by wo,
Didst watch the leaves descending slow,

To each a moral gave ;
And as they moved in mournful train,
With rustling sound, along the plain,
Taught them to sing a seraph's strain

Of peace within the grave.
« And then, upraised thy streaming eye,
I met thee in the western sky

In pomp of evening cloud;
That, while with varying form it roll'd,
Some wizard's castle seem'd of gold,
And now a crimson'd knight of old,

Or king in purple proud.
“And last, as sunk the setting sun,
And Evening with her shadows dun

The gorgeous pageant past,
'T was then of life a mimic show,
Of human grandeur here below,
Which thus beneath the fatal blow

Of Death must fall at last.
“O, then with what aspiring gaze
Didst thou thy tranced vision raise

To yonder orbs on high,
And think how wondrous, how sublime
T were upwards to their spheres to climb,
And live, beyond the reach of Time,

Child of Eternity!"
And last the Sylph of Winter spake;
The while her piercing voice did shake

The castle-vaults below.
“0, youth, if thou, with soul refin'd,
Hast felt the triumph pure of mind,
And learn'd a secret joy to find

In deepest scenes of wo;
« If e'er with fearful ear at eve
Hast heard the wailing tempests grieve

Through chink of shatter'd wall;

“Or mark'd the sun's declining ray In thousand varying colours play

O’er ice-incrusted heath, In gleams of orange now,

and green, And now in red and azure sheen, Like hues on dying dolphin seen,

Most lovely when in death;
“Or seen, at dawn of eastern light
The frosty toil of fays by night

On pane of casement clear,
Where bright the mimic glaciers shine,
And Alps, with many a mountain pine,
And armed knights from Palestine

In winding march appear : «’T was I on each enchanting scene The charm bestow'd that banished spleen

Thy bosom pure and light. But still a nobler power I claim; That power allied to poets' fame, Which language vain has dared to name

The soul's creative might.

The while it conjured o'er thy brain
Of wandering ghosts a mournful train,
That low in fitful sobs complain

Of Death's untimely call :
*Or feeling, as the storm increased,
The love of terror nerve thy breast,

Didst venture to the coast;
To see the mighty war-ship leap
From wave to wave upon the deep,
Like chamois goat from steep to steep,

Till low in valley lost;
*Then, glancing to the angry sky,
Behold the clouds with fury fly

The lurid moon athwart;
Like armies huge in battle, throng,
And pour in volleying ranks along,
While piping winds in martial song

To rushing war exhort :
"O, then to me thy heart be given,
To me, ordain’d by Him in heaven

Thy nobler powers to wake. And 0 ! if thou, with poet's soul, High brooding o'er the frozen pole, Hast felt beneath my stern control

The desert region quake;
«Or from old Hecla's cloudy height,
When o'er the dismal, half-year's night

He pours his sulphurous breath,
Hast known my petrifying wind
Wild ocean's curling billows bind,
Like bending sheaves by harvest hind,

Erect in icy death;
"Or heard adown the mountain's steep
The northern blast with furious sweep

Some cliff dissever'd dash;
And seen it spring with dreadful bound
From rock to rock, to gulf profound,
While echoes fierce from caves resound

The never-ending crash :
"If thus, with terror's mighty spell
Thy soul inspired, was wont to swell,

Thy heaving frame expand; 0, then to me thy heart incline; For know, the wondrous charm was mine, That fear and joy did thus combine

In magic union bland.
“ Nor think confined my native sphere
To horrors gaunt, or ghastly fear,

Or desolation wild :
For I of pleasures fair could sing,
That steal from life its sharpest sting,
And man have made around it cling,

Like mother to her child.

« Though Autumn grave, and Summer fair, And joyous Spring demand a share

Of Fancy's hallow'd power,
Yet these I hold of humbler kind,
To grosser means of earth confined,
Through mortal sense to reach the mind,

By mountain, stream, or flower.

“But mine, of purer nature still,
Is that which to thy secret will

Did minister unseen,
Unfelt, unheard; when every sense
Did sleep in drowsy indolence,
And silence deep and night intense

Enshrouded every scene;
« That o'er thy teeming brain did raise
The spirits of departed days

Through all the varying year; And images of things remote, And sounds that long had ceased to float, With every hue, and every note,

As living now they were :

« And taught thee from the motley mass Each harmonizing part to class,

(Like Nature's self employ'd;) And then, as work'd thy wayward will, From these, with rare combining skill, With new-created worlds to fill

Of space the mighty void. “O) then to me thy heart incline; To me, whose plastic powers combine

The harvest of the mind; To me, whose magic coffers bear The spoils of all the toiling year, That still in mental vision wear

A lustre more refined."

“When thou, beneath the clear blue sky, So calm, no cloud was seen to fly,

Hast gazed on snowy plain, Where Nature slept so pure and sweet, She seem'd a corse in winding-sheet, Whose happy soul had gone to meet

The blest, angelic train;

She ceased—And now, in doubtful mood, All motionless and mute I stood,

Like one by charm oppress’d:

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