THE FRESH-WATER SIREN. 59 



By the glistening water was sauntering along, 



Now cutting the rushes, now humming a song. 



Looking blithely about him, around and around, 



In every direction, except on the ground, 



Our gay Gallant stumbled, now guess ye on what? 



On viper, or toad, or a sherd of a pot ? 



His hair bristled with fright, with fear dropped his jaw, "j 



Yet he'd trodden on naught save a feminine paw, I 



Hairy and black, and armed with a claw. 



Squatting, toad-fashion, amidst the sedge 



Which divided the path from the water's edge, 



Sat our former acquaintance, the baffled crone, 



Now wearing no semblance excepting her own. 



Oh ! well might our Gallant's heart quiver and quake, 



Well might his limbs like an aspen leaf shake, 



Well his jaw it might drop, well might bristle his hair, 



As the loathly old creature bespoke him thus fair : 



" Courteous Sir, why this alarm ? 



Fear no hindrance, dread no harm ; 

 I'm a gentle Fairy Sprite 



For beauty famed, 



The Peerless named, 

 Suffering under foul despite. 



" In an unpropitious hour, 



A jealous Fay of greater power, 

 Enwrapped me in a magic spell ; 



Hid beneath this streamlet deep, 



Where water-elves their revels keep, 

 For a space I'm doom'd to dwell. 



" Or if I rise to upper air, 

 My proper form, so bright and fair, 

 Assumes this strange and hateful guise ; 



