But in his dreams her form to see,
To clasp her in his reverie,

To think upon his virgin bride,

Was worth all heaven, and earth beside.

XXXIV.

"Lady," he cried, "I have sworn to-night, On the word of a fairy knight,

To do my sentence task aright;
My honor scarce is free from stain,
I may not soil its snows again;
Betide me weal, betide me woe,
Its mandate must be answered now."
Her bosom heaved with many a sigh,
The tear was in her drooping eye;
But she led him to the palace gate,

And called the sylphs who hovered there, And bade them fly and bring him straight Of clouds condensed a sable car.

With charm and spell she blessed it there,
From all the fiends of upper air;
Then round him cast the shadowy shroud,
And tied his steed behind the cloud;
And pressed his hand as she bade him fly
Far to the verge of the northern sky,
For by its wane and wavering light
There was a star would fall to-night.

XXXV.

Borne afar on the wings of the blast,
Northward away, he speeds him fast,
And his courser follows the cloudy wain
Till the hoof strokes fall like pattering rain.
The clouds roll backward as he flies,
Each flickering star behind him lies,

And he has reached the northern plain,
And backed his firefly steed again,

Ready to follow in its flight

The streaming of the rocket light.

XXXVI.

The star is yet in the vault of heaven,

But it rocks in the summer gale;

And now 'tis fitful and uneven,
And now 'tis deadly pale;

And now 'tis wrapped in sulphur smoke,
And quenched is its rayless beam,
And now with a rattling thunder stroke
It bursts in flash and flame.

As swift as the glance of the arrowy lance
That the storm spirit flings from high,
The star shot flew o'er the welkin blue,
As it fell from the sheeted sky.

As swift as the wind in its trail behind
The elfin gallops along,

The fiends of the clouds are bellowing loud,
But the sylphid charm is strong;
He gallops unhurt in the shower of fire,
While the cloud fiends fly from the blaze;
He watches each flake till its sparks expire,
And rides in the light of its rays.

But he drove his steed to the lightning's speed,
And caught a glimmering spark;

Then wheeled around to the fairy ground,

And sped through the midnight dark.

*

Ouphe and Goblin! Imp and Sprite!
Elf of eve! and starry Fay!
Ye that love the moon's soft light,
Hither, hither wend your way;

Twine ye in a jocund ring,

Sing and trip it merrily,

Hand to hand, and wing to wing,

Round the wild witch-hazel tree.

Hail the wanderer again

With dance and song, and lute and lyre, Pure his wing and strong his chain,

And doubly bright his fairy fire.

Twine ye in an airy round,

Brush the dew and print the lea; Skip and gambol, hop and bound, Round the wild witch-hazel tree.

The beetle guards our holy ground,
He flies about the haunted place,

And if mortal there be found,

He hums in his ears and flaps his face;

The leaf harp sounds our roundelay,

The owlets' eyes our lanterns be;

Thus we sing, and dance, and play,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.

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 hilltops gleam in morning's spring,
The skylark shakes his dappled wing,
The day glimpse glimmers on the lawn,
The cock has crowed, and the Fays are gone.

FROM "PRUE AND I."

BY GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS.

[GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS, the distinguished American author and lecturer, was born at Providence, R.I., February 24, 1824. In his youth he worked on a farm, and a portion of the time was a member of the Brook Farm Community. After a four years' visit to Europe and the Orient, he obtained a position on the New York Tribune; assumed the editorship of Putnam's Magazine; and in 1853 entered the lecture field, in which he acquired immediate popularity. After the suspension of Putnam's, he became editor of the "Easy Chair," in Harper's Monthly (1858), and in 1860 the leading editorial writer of Harper's Weekly, in which he advocated the cause of the Union and emancipation. He was a prominent figure in political as well as literary circles, being twice a delegate to Republican national conventions, presidential elector (1868), and president of the National Civil Service Reform League. He died at his home on Staten Island, August 31, 1892. "Nile Notes of a Howadji," "Lotus-Eating," "Potiphar Papers," "Prue and I," and "From the Easy Chair" are his chief works. ]

TITBOTTOM'S SPECTACLES.

PRUE and I do not entertain much; our means forbid it. In truth, other people entertain for us. We enjoy that hospitality of which no account is made. We see the show, and hear the music, and smell the flowers, of great festivities, tasting, as it were, the drippings from rich dishes.

Our own dinner service is remarkably plain, our dinners, even on state occasions, are strictly in keeping, and almost our only guest is Titbottom. I buy a handful of roses as I come up from the office, perhaps, and Prue arranges them so prettily in a glass dish for the center of the table, that, even when I have hurried out to see Aurelia step into her carriage to go out