The glow worm,

in the mossy shade

Concealed, her glimmering lamp displayed,

And the nightingale, deep in the grove,
Startled the ear with his voice of love,
Pouring, alternate, from his throat,

The passionate swell, and the tender note.

On they ride,

Through the forest wide,

Unto a lonely dell;

Huge trees grew up on either side,

But a velvet green

Lay stretched between,

And on it a crystal well;

There chained unto a gnarled oak,
Whose roots the pure wave drink,
A golden ladle of wonderous craft
Rested upon the brink;

And on the green-sward, at the head

Of this lonely vale, a tent was spread,

With the moonlight in front on the open glade,

And the wood behind with its mass of shade; 'Twas the silken tent where the Queen abode, And to it the knight and the faery rode.

Forth stepped the fay with wondrous grace, And a sunny smile illumed her face;

Her graceful figure moved, concealed

Beneath so delicate a vest,

That every charm was half revealed,
Where'er its slender drapery pressed; --
With changeful smiles, her features told

Of the love that is better than power and gold,
Her lustrous eyes, brim full of light,
Beamed with the spirit of delight,

And her hair with flowers of the purest hue
Was mixed, as though in its locks they grew.

She greeted the knight with courteous words, And more than a mortal grace,

And all the while

Love's tender smile

Beamed brightly in her face;

To her silken bower the youth she led,

Where on silver and gold the feast was spread,
And faerie creatures round them stood,

Or brought sweet offerings from the wood;

In sooth 'twas a wondrous sight to see!

The dwarfish sprite

Had told aright,

For the apple had dropped, and the grape had bled,

For that night's festivity.

Then quoth the Faery, and in her hand

She lightly waved a golden wand,

Haste, Pamphilon, my nimble fay!

To the spirit of music haste away!

Bid him prepare

A concert rare,

And bring a choir to the moonlit grove:

Tell them, unseen, to breathe around

Music's softest, tenderest sound,

And the sweet expression of love!

And, at her bidding, the little fay,

Like a gleam of lightning passed away.

She waved her faerie wand again,

And turned unto her elfin train :

Adieu, my Lylia, gentle sprite!

Thou and thy fellows are free to-night!

In the south ye may bind your hair with flowers,

Or

sport with your lovers in olive bowers;

In the groves of the east

Ye may make your feast,

Where, amongst roses, the Peris rest,

Or go ye where, with plumage bright,

The humming bird darts, like a gleam of light, In the isles of the distant west!

And, at her bidding, each lovely fay,

In the light of her beauty, passed away.

Alone, in that enchanted tent,

The faery and her lover dwelt,

C

And Elfinine, with tender sighs,

And love's soft language in her eyes,

The sweet confession did impart

That, heedful of his woe, her heart
A sympathy with him had felt
Which had become love's aliment,
Feeding her passion till it became,

At length, a most consuming flame ;-
It was a tender tale to tell,

By my troth, it pleased Sir Amys well.

Beside each other down they sate,

And of dainty things Sir Amys ate;

In cups

of gold the nectar glowed,

And the hypocras and cliret flowed

From the pictured bowl,

Until his soul

Was filled to the brim with bliss;

But sweeter than all he drank that night,

Was the dewy nectar of delight,

Which from that lady's lips he stole,