THE CULPRIT FAY. 35 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 And, as he lightly leaped to land, And dropped in the crystal deep below. XXIV. A moment stayed the fairy there; He kissed the beach and breathed a prayer, 36 THE CULPRIT FAY. Then spread his wings of gilded blue, And shine with a thousand changing dies, So vanished, far in heaven away! Up, Fairy! quit thy chick-weed bower, To kiss the streaking of the skies- 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; Was once the wild-bee's golden vest; THE CULPRIT FAY. His shield was the shell of a lady-bug queen, 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; 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, 37 38 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, And they watched till they saw him mount the roof 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, 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, |