"'Tis true," said the monster, "thou queen of my heart!
Thy portrait I oft have essay'd;
Yet ne'er to the canvass could I with my art
The least of thy wonderful beauties impart;
And my failure with scorn you repaid.
"Now I swear, by the light of the Comet-King's tail!"
And he tower'd with pride as he spoke,
"If again with these magical colours I fail,
The crater of Etna shall hence be my jail,
And my food shall be sulphur and smoke.
"But if I succeed, then, oh! fair Geraldine!
Thy promise with rapture, I claim,
And thou, queen of Fairies, shalt ever be mine
The bride of my bed; and thy portrait divine
Shall fill all the earth with my fame."
He spake; when, behold the fair Geraldine's form
On the canvass enchantingly glow'd;
His touches, they flew like the leaves in a storm;
And the pure, pearly white, and the carnation warm,
Contending in harmony, flow'd.
And now did the portrait a twin-sister seem
To the figure of Geraldine fair:
With the same sweet expression did faithfully teem
Each muscle, each feature; in short, not a gleam
Was lost of her beautiful hair.
'Twas the Fairy herself! but, alas! her blue eyes
Still a pupil did ruefully lack;
And who shall describe the terrifick surprise
That seized the Paint-King, when, behold, he descries
Not a speck on his palette of black.
"I am lost!" said the fiend, and he shook like a leaf;
When, casting his eyes to the ground,
He saw the lost pupils of Ellen with grief
In the jaws of a mouse, and the sly little thief
Whisk away from his sight with a bound.
"I am lost!" said the fiend, and he fell like a stone:
Then rising the Fairy in ire,
With a touch of her finger she loosen'd her zone,
(While the limbs on the wall gave a terrible groan!)
And she swell'd to a column of fire.
Her spear now a thunder-bolt flash'd in the air,
And sulphur the vault fill'd around:
She smote the grim monster; and now by the hair
High lifting, she hurl'd him in speechless despair
Down the depths of the chasm profound.
Then waving, with smiles, o'er the picture her spear,
"Come forth!" said the good Geraldine;
When, behold, from the canvass fair Ellen appear!
In feature, in person more lovely than e'er,
With grace more than ever divine!