58 THE FRESH-WATER SIREN. 



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. 



PART THE SECOND 



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 ecstasy leaping ; 



Each leaf danced light 



In the sunshine bright, 

 And none but the owls were sleeping. 



All animate things, 



With responsive strings, 

 Then abroad on the sunny earth, 



Unless by age rusted, 



Or trouble encrusted, 

 Were as harps in the hand of mirth. 



With the rest of the revellers a young Gallant gay, 

 Right proud in the gloss of his silken array, 



