THE FRESH-WATER SIREN. 143 



" By my fay," quoth the Knight, " I've beheld quite enough, 

 " And as for your bower, 'tis all a mere puff ! 

 " I'd only advise you, when next you'd deceive, 

 " To keep to your element, so take my leave ! ' 



With a shriek of despair, the witch rose up once more, 

 Looking (though it was hard) still more grim than before ; 

 Then she sank with a splash, like a ponderous stone, 

 Disappeared at the bottom and muttered a groan, 

 Mumbled many a curse on the gallant winged rover, 

 Crouched in dolorous rage till her spleen was gone over ; 

 Then determined her twig to redaub with new lime, 

 And not suffer her bird to escape the next time. 



On the day of her birth, 



Or on that of the earth, 

 Or on some such grand anniversary, 



Queen Nature made sport 



With the dames of court, 

 And the bairns of her royal nursery. 



From a gilt-edged cloud, 

 The lark sang loud, 

 The fish were in extasy leaping ; 



