THE FAMILY OF O BORB. 153 



By telling her, with a forbidding frown, 



That their Papa should not give her a copper ; 

 The poor girl answer'd not, but went aside 

 Out of their view, and sat her down and cried. 



The very eve before the merry-making, 



Finding herself dejected and alone, 

 She left the mansion, for the sake of taking 



A solitary walk, where there were none 

 To watch the bitterness of her heart- aching, 



And heedless whither still she wandered on, 

 Until she had arriv'd, as it befel, 

 Close to the side of the Enchanted Well ! 



She sat her down, her elbow on her knee, 



And her pale cheek supported by her hand ; 

 And gazing on the waters stedfastly, 



Bethought her of the tales of Fairy-land, 

 The which she hearken'd to in infancy, 



Of transformations passing wondrous, and 

 Strange visions of the world 'twixt heaven and hell, 

 Said to abound beside that haunted well ! 



Sudden, soft music stole upon her ear, 



The breeze just stirr'd the foliage, and then died : 



And she felt conscious there was something near, 

 Not of this earth ; when, strange to tell, beside 



The lucid spring she saw the elves appear 



Link'd in the dance ! so starting up she tried 



To run away, but could not quit the ground, 



And then she knew at once she was spell-bound I 



They made a lovely vision ! many a Fay 



Footed it nimbly as the " cutty sark" 

 That Tarn beheld at " auld Kirk Alloway," 



When he unwittingly made a remark, 

 For which full dearly he had like to pay ; 



Take my advice, and, if you want to lark, 

 Don't make a butt of warlocks, or, d'ye hear ? 

 By Jove ! you'll * catch the wrong sow by the ear." 



But these were pretty little airy things, 



Clad in the colours of heaven's rainy bow 

 And some were naked, cupitUlike, with wings, 



And hover'd o'er the train that danc'd below, 

 Or clung, like bees, upon the blossomings 



Of the wild flowers, and bent their sweet heads so 

 That they did threat to merge into the flood 

 Each little Puck that held a captive bud. 



But one above the rest, who seem'd a king, 



Wearing a diadem upon his brow, 

 Paced slowly up to Kathleen from the ring, 



And, smiling on her, made a gracious bow, 

 Then said, " the thoughts that in thy bosom spring, 



Maiden ! have been known to me long ago, 

 And 'tis a Fairy's sovereign will to be 

 Rewarder of thy patient constancy. 



