142 THE FRESH-WATER SIREN. 



And like lamps were hung over its horrible jaw, 

 The port-cullis that led to its cavernous maw. 



The grim-looking spectre but rose as a flash 

 That blasted the vision, then sank with a splash ; 

 And, enwrapped in her mantle of magical light, 

 Once more seemed a fairy all beauteous and bright, 

 Save only the hand raised the water above, 

 Which still circled the wrist of the warrior's glove. 

 This wight (and a fortunate hap tVas for him) 

 Was not framed like us mortals in body or limb ; 

 'Neath the back of his glittering corselet lay hid 

 (Like Jack-in-the-box crumpled under his lid,) 

 A pair of transparent and powerful wing, 

 Could be folded and opened by wonderful springs. 

 From all that he'd seen, he'd a pretty good notion, 

 That now was the time to set them in motion ; 

 So, his hand snatched away without further ado, 

 Wide open the plates of his corselet he. threw, 

 And a moment beheld him high poised in the air, 

 Looking down with a smile on the Siren's despair, 

 While uprose from the water her soft witching strain, 

 Sung sweetly as erst, though, I wist, now in vain : 



1 ' My air-built bower come and see ! 



" Come, stranger, come and dwell with me ! 



