--“the flood which rolls its milky hue,
A river of light on the welkin blue,”
surrounded by the brightness of celestial realms.
As specimens of fanciful illustration, we give a description of the
palace chosen for the empress sylph of heaven, which our author
introduces by way of episode before proceeding to fulfill his purpose.
“Its spiral columns gleaming bright
Were streamers of the northern light;
Its curtain’s light and lovely flush
Was of the morning’s rosy blush,
And the ceiling fair that rose aboon
The while and feathery fleece of noon.”
Again, we have a notice of the queen’s apparel.
“Her mantle was the purple rolled
At twilight in the west afar;
’Twas tied with threads of dawning gold,
And buttoned with a sparkling star.”
In looking back upon the numerous quotations we have made, we fear
that we have trespassed, it may be too long, upon the patience of
our readers. To analyze the poem fully--and such was our first
intention--would conduct farther than our limits will allow. We shall
therefore hasten to a close, and from several passages which still
remain unnoticed, select one most distinguished for the richness of
its coloring. It contains the greater part of the address of the queen
sylph to our wandering Fay, when endeavoring to detain him in her
presence, she draws a glowing picture of prospective bliss.
“Within the fleecy drift we’ll lie,
We’ll hang upon the rainbow’s rim;
And all the jewels of the sky
Around thy brow shall brightly beam!
And thou shaft bathe thee in the stream
That rolls its whitening foam aboon,
And ride upon the lightning’s gleam,
And dance upon the orbed moon!
We’ll sit within the Pleiad ring,
We’ll rest on Orion’s starry belt,
And I will bid my sylphs to sing
The song that makes the dew-mist melt;
Their harps are of the umber shade,
That hides the blush of waking day,
And every gleamy string is made
Of silvery moonshine’s lengthened ray;
And thou shalt pillow on my breast,
While heavenly breathings float around,
And, with sylphs of ether blest,
Forget the joys of fairy ground.”
The emotions which this burst of burning passion excited in the
doubting Fay, are well described. The remembrance of his earthly love,
joined to the recollection of a sentence unperformed, enables him at
last to utter a reply declining even such enjoyment. The impassioned
queen, too generous to enforce her wishes, surrounds him with a
spell that guards from every evil, and then bids him a reluctant and
heart-felt adieu. Rapid is his progress to the termination of his
labors. The conflict is soon over, and the prize is won. Already is he
on the confines of his native land, and we listen to the music that
proclaims his welcome. Gladly would we follow him still farther.
“But hark! from tower on tree-top high,
The sentry elf his call has made,
A streak is in the eastern sky,
Shapes of moonlight! flit and fade!
The hill-tops gleam in morning’s spring,
The sky-lark shakes his dappled wing,
The day-glimpse glimmers on the lawn,
The cock has crowed and the Fays are gone.”