No longer, no longer, resounds at morn,
The call of her lover's bugle horn;

The harp and the viol, have ceased to weave,
The notes that lighted her soul at eve;
The minstrel at noon hath ceased to stray,
To bask in the warmth of the sunny ray;
For SHE, the Lady of all so bland,

Is carried a captive to FAIRY LAND,

IV.

'Twas thus, when the brave SIR HUGH ST. CYR, Vowed by the beauty of ERMENGARDE; To win her again, be she far or near,

Or the gates of her prison house demon-barred For he had a HORN, whose magic sound,

Would guide him the way to FAIRY LAND; Scatter the Goblins and Elves around,

And loosen the strongest spel-wrought band: So away went he to the roaring sea,

And he blew a call right merrily.

V.

Calm and sunny was the wave,

Calm as the ripples are, which flow
Through woodland green, and valley low,

And their pebbly margents lave;

And on that sea, so calm, so bright,

Moored by a silken cord of blue,

Lay a VESSEL Of Delight,

A bark of amber hue;

Gently it rose, and it fell above,

Like a bosom heaved by a sigh of Love.

VI.

It had no sail, it had no oar,

Two azure pinions waved before,

Lovely as are the wings, that bear

HER borne of PLEASURE and the SUN,
The beauteous Insect queen of air,
Amid the gardens of Irun.

VIT.

The knight the silken cord untied,
The vessel left the steep rock's side,
The pinions played, and wafted round,

Odours more fragrant than are shed,
Upon a young SULTANA's head,
When at her bridal crowned.

VIII.

He sailed along, the light gale died,
The billow fawned at the vessel's side,

So calm the wave, he scarce could tell
The vessel moved, but hill, and dell,
And chalky cliff, and towering tree,
All sunk behind the summer sea.

IX.

Not alone is SIR HUGH ST. CYR,
For he hears the tread of the footsteps near,
And he feels the fan of the passer by,
Although no shade falls o'er his eye;
And he hears the beat of the merry dance,
Although no figure meets his glance,
And songs from unseen minstrels float,
Tuned to many a lovely note,
And steered by mariners unseen,
The light bark cuts the waves between.

x.

Now swells a note of joyance gay,
Soft and blythe, as is the song,
That trills the vineyard walks along,

On an ITALIAN holiday;

And now, like that of evening hour,

Sung in some rose enwoven bower,

By melancholy maiden pale;

There singing, all alone, and lorn, From summer eve, till break of morn, In sorrow like the Nightingale.

XI.

The bark sailed on, the day was bright,
The sun had reached noon's glowing height,
The winds were still, the ocean calm,
The sun beam warm, the air all balm ;

No feather moved on his plumy crest,

Nor waved the favor that hung from his breast;
And had not the play of the wings of blue,
As o'er the ocean the light bark flew,
Softly diffused their perfumed breath,
All else had been fixed, and still as death.

XII.

The bark sailed an -The even came,
The west was robed in solar flame,
The beauteous clouds in light were drest,

And as the flood of radiance streamed,
Portals of heavenly gold they seemed,
Before some city of the BLEST:
And to that city gate there lay,
A trembling path of many a ray.

But fair in the beam the white cliffs stood,
With pine-wreathed coronet of wood;
Clear and deep were the waves he passed,
And dark were the shades the cleft rocks cast;
Clear and deep,-the waters shone,
Like the mirror that BEAUTY looks upon;
And he saw the coral forests well,

And the grots of spar where the GENII dwell;
And the palaces built for the OCEAN QUEEN;
Her city walls, and the towers between;

The columns of pearl, and the shell paved streets,
And the mermaid's coral bowered retreats,

The OCEAN QUEEN rode abroad that night;
Fair was her car,

Of pearl, and of spar,

And her steeds, two many hued dolphins bright;
A lustrous diamond wand she bore,

Embossed with purest golden ore:

The sea flower waved amidst her hair, And the crown of gem shone paly there; A flowing vest she wore.

XVI.

He saw the sea meads, and the turtle flocks,

That graze like sheep on the weed covered rocks

Along the ocean lea;

And he saw the keeper watch them nigh,
Resting beneath the lunar sky,

At the trunk of a coral tree:

In a bower of rock, by a coral wood,
Wrapt as in thought, a GENIUS stood;

For

XVII.

It has passed in a creek, that magic bark,
On either side the walls are high,

The moon is sinking in the sky,
And the water path is dark;

But the moon shone through a chink, and made

A speck of light amidst the shade,

And there, and there, it drew to shore,

And the fairy minstrels sung once more,

Farewell SIR KNIGHT! Success attend thee,

And thy lady's star befriend thee!

XVILL

Light from the bark sprang SIR HUGH ST. CYR,
A flight of rocky steps were near,

With moss, and lichen over spread,

And the rock flower bloomed above his head,

Round and round, the staircase wound,

Above a bolted port he found,

But he blew a call, and the barriers all,

By one, and one, began to fall.

On steps of pearl and marbly snows,
A many tinted light spring rose;

A vase received the beauteous stream;
Its sparkling drops had many a beam,
Of crimson, orange, violet, blue,
And every tinge of the rainbow's hue;
A fairy figure baled them o'er,
And drops of different tints before,
Were all commingled in the spray,
And formed the sun of a summer's day.

XXI.

There were a smiling shepherdess band
Dancing it lightly hand in hand,
With eyes of joy they stept along,
And the fair hall rang,

As they danced and sang,

And these were the words of their song.

XXII.

Ah! Well a day! 'tis over now,

And the queen of the palace no more will weep; But flowrets gay, shall bound the brow,

Of the knight that our lady brought over the deep.

XXIII.

They danced, and they sang, and they led him along,
To a figure that seemed as of marble formed,
Like that they say, erst made of clay,

Ere the life-giving fire from heaven had warmed;

Void of motion, and void of breath,

Pale, and fixed, and still as death:

Dark as the raven was her hair,

Her brow and her arm as snow were fair,

Sable as jet, the garb she wore,

Her hand her down bent forehead bore;

She seemed to awake, as the knight drew nigh,

And she pierced to his soul with her snake like eye,

XXIV.

Meanwhile a laughing young maid of the band,

Lightly untied,

The horn at his side,

And bore it away in her hand;

SIR HUGH! SIR HUGH!
Be watchful and true,
Or years will roll by,
While thy lady must lie,

A captive in fairyland!