Where darkly delves the toiling gnome,
The mid-earth's swarthy child.
'"Then be thou ever, as of yore,
A dweller in the woods and o'er
Fresh plains thy herds shall roam;
Join not the vain and reckless crowd,
Who swell the city's pageant proud,
But prize thy forest home."
'He said; and with an eldritch scream
The gnome king vanished, and my dream—