By the uplifted hills;—
Grim smiled the Fire-king at the fairy maid
And her attendant rills.
The Gnomes peeped forth from many a cavern hole,
And forged fresh fetters to enchain the soul.
Oh, short-lived triumph! never yet was sin
Allowed to conquer long;
Never was bounteous love thus hemmèd in
By evil spirits strong,
But it would win its way through hearts or stone,