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THE CULPRIT FAY.

But left an arch of silver bright

The rainbow of the moony main. It was a strange and lovely sight To see the puny goblin there; He seemed an angel form of light,

With azure wing and sunny hair, Throned on a cloud of purple fair, Circled with blue and edged with white,

And sitting at the fall of even

Beneath the bow of summer heaven.

XXII.

A moment and its lustre fell,

But ere it met the billow blue, He caught within his crimson bell, A droplet of its sparkling dew—

THE CULPRIT FAY.

Joy to thee, Fay! thy task is done,

Thy wings are pure, for the gem is won-
Cheerly ply thy dripping oar,

And haste away to the elfin shore.

XXIII.

He turns, and lo! on either side

The ripples on his path divide;

And the track o'er which his boat must pass
Is smooth as a sheet of polished glass.

Around, their limbs the sea-nymphs lave,
With snowy arms half swelling out,
While on the glossed and gleamy wave
Their sea-green ringlets loosely float;
They swim around with smile and song;
They press the bark with pearly hand,
And gently urge her course along,
Toward the beach of speckled sand;
And, as he lightly leaped to land,
They bade adieu with nod and bow,
Then gayly kissed each little hand,

And dropped in the crystal deep below.

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THE CULPRIT FAY.

Then spread his wings of gilded blue,
And on to the elfin court he flew;
As ever ye saw a bubble rise,

And shine with a thousand changing dies,
Till lessening far through ether driven,
It mingles with the hues of heaven;
As, at the glimpse of morning pale,

The lance-fly spreads his silken sail,
And gleams with blendings soft and bright,
Till lost in the shades of fading night;
So rose from earth the lovely Fay-
So vanished, far in heaven away!

Up, Fairy! quit thy chick-weed bower,
The cricket has called the second hour,
Twice again, and the lark will rise
To kiss the streaking of the skies—

Up! thy charmed armour don,

Thou 'lt nced it ere the night be gone.

XXV.

He put his acorn-helmet on;

It was plumed of the silk of the thistle down;
The corslet-plate that guarded his breast

Was once the wild-bee's golden vest;
His cloak, of a thousand mingled dies,
Was formed of the wings of butterflies ;

THE CULPRIT FAY.

His shield was the shell of a lady-bug queen,
Studs of gold on a ground of green;

And the quivering lance which he brandished bright,
Was the sting of a wasp he had slain in fight.

Swift he bestrode his firefly steed;

He bared his blade of the bent grass blue;

He drove his spurs of the cockle-seed,

And away like a glance of thought he flew,

To skim the heavens and follow far

The fiery trail of the rocket-star.

XXVI.

The moth-fly, as he shot in air,

Crept under the leaf, and hid her there;

The katy-did forgot its lay,

The prowling gnat fled fast away,

The fell moscheto checked his drone

And folded his wings till the Fay was gone,

And the wily beetle dropped his head,

And fell on the ground as if he were dead;
They crouched them close in the darksome shade,
They quaked all o'er with awe and fear,

For they had felt the blue-bent blade,

And writhed at the prick of the elfin spear;

Many a time on a summer's night,

When the sky was clear, and the moon was bright,

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THE CULPRIT FAY.

They had been roused from the haunted ground,

By the yelp and bay of the fairy hound;

They had heard the tiny bugle-horn,

They had heard the twang of the maize-silk string,
When the vine-twig boughs were tightly drawn,
And the nettle shaft through air was borne,
Feathered with down of the hum-bird's wing.
And now they deemed the courier ouphe,

Some hunter sprite of the elfin ground;

And they watched till they saw him mount the roof That canopies the world around;

Then glad they left their covert lair,

And freaked about in the midnight air.

XXVII.

Up to the vaulted firmament

His path the firefly courser bent,
And at every gallop on the wind,
He flung a glittering spark behind;
He flies like a feather in the blast

Till the first light cloud in heaven is past,

But the shapes of air have begun their work,

And a drizzly mist is round him cast,

He cannot see through the mantle murk,

He shivers with cold, but he urges fast,

Through storm and darkness, sleet and shade,

He lashes his steed and spurs amain,