THE FRESH-WAT EE SIREN. 61 



From old and from young, from high and from low, 

 From widows in weeds, and from maidens in woe, 

 There now daily arose such a shrill lamentation, 

 That it entered, at length, the long ears of the nation. 

 But cheer up, all ye widows, (whose loss is no gain,) 

 A champion is near to avenge all your pain ! 

 Cheer up, wives and maidens, dismiss your alarms ! 

 Not long the foul Siren shall work her fell charms : 

 Look not down to the earth but look up on high, 

 Your deliverer comes cutting athwart the blue sky ! 



On light sprays hung, 



By silk cords slung, 

 O'er-arched by a silken dome, 



Is the airy hall, 



With water-proof wall, 

 Where the Siren makes her home. 



By a waving screen 



Of emerald green, 

 Her bower is girt about ; 



But a lucent gleam 



From the sparkling stream, 

 Looks in from the world without. 



For a river sprite, 



Or a naiad bright, 

 'Twas fit for a fairy queen 



Nay, that pendent cell 



Might have suited well, 

 For the boudoir of sweet Ondine. 



In this nice little snuggery sat the witch crone, 

 Deep immersed in the sweets of a large marrow bone. 



