ISLE OF THE FAIRIES.
67
And joining their hands in their own fairy style,They gayly danced over their beautiful isle;When, gazing afar o'er the billowy tide,They saw a boat land on the isle's farther side.
And lingering not, to the bower of their queenThey hastened, and told her of this they had seen;She blew with her trumpet a clear blast so shrillThat all came around her to list to her will;And just as the sun ushered in the fair day,With speed of the lightning they hastened away.
And no one can tell where the fairies have flown;The fate of their queen hath not truly been known;But blithe, airy voices some strange stories tell:They say that she lives in a beautiful shellFar down in the depths of an old ocean cave,Beneath the white foam of the billowy wave.
They say that she, too, has a palace, whose hallsHave emerald portals and coral-wreathed walls;And wears a bright diamond-gemmed crown on her head,Brought up from the depths of the old ocean's bed;With mermaids and ocean nymphs daily she rovesThrough glens of the sea-flower and mystic alcoves.
