By sedge enclosed from every ruffling breeze,
The fountains lie; and shuddering peasants shrink
To plunge the stone within the fearful brink;
For here,'tis said, the fairy hosts convene,
With noisy talk, and bustling steps unseen;
The hill resounds with strange, unearthly cries;
And moaning voices from the waters rise.
Nor long the time, if village-saws be true,
Since in the deep a hardy peasant threw
A pondrous stone; when murmuring from below,