While heavenly breathings float around,
And, with sylphs of ether blest,
Forget the joys of fairy ground.”
The emotions which this burst of burning passion excited in the doubting Fay, are well described. The remembrance of his earthly love, joined to the recollection of a sentence unperformed, enables him at last to utter a reply declining even such enjoyment. The impassioned queen, too generous to enforce her wishes, surrounds him with a spell that guards from every evil, and then bids him a reluctant and heart-felt adieu. Rapid is his progress to the termination of his labors. The conflict is soon over, and the prize is won. Already is he on the confines of his native land, and we listen to the music that proclaims his welcome. Gladly would we follow him still farther.
“But hark! from tower on tree-top high,
The sentry elf his call has made,
A streak is in the eastern sky,
Shapes of moonlight! flit and fade!
The hill-tops gleam in morning’s spring,
The sky-lark shakes his dappled wing,