THE FRESH-WATER SIREN. 141" 



Then lie looked at the water, exploring it through, 

 And there, if his sight brought him evidence true, 

 He beheld 'neath its surface, in silver bedight, 

 A most lovely Ladye. No gallant young Knight 

 Could wish for a fairer in air and in mien, 

 Tho' as to her face, not a feature was seen, 

 'Twas so veiled in the blaze of her mantle's bright sheen. 

 Again, sweetly she sang: " See my water-girt home ! 

 " Come down to my palace of pleasure, oh come !" 



But the Knight he stood dubious, the streamlet was deep, 

 He prudently looked, ere he ventured to leap ; 

 But the Ladye, impatient, upraised neck and hand, 

 To grasp hold of his, as he stood on the land. 

 Then, ye powers of darkness ! the sight that he sees, 

 Any mortal's warm blood was sufficient to freeze, 

 Though boiling beneath a fierce tropical sun, 

 Or on Lawrence's gridiron very near done. 

 The most blear-eyed of witches, the nightmare most foal, 

 The most grim of hobgoblins, the loathsomest ghoule, 

 Would have seemed as the fairest of Eve's lovely daughters, 

 To the horrible thing half raised out of the waters. 

 Its long hairy arms, so gaunt, rigid, and thin, 

 Were as dark and as dry as an old mummy's skin : 

 Its eyes, glassy and fixed as a fish's when dead, 

 Glared fiercely like fiery coals in its head, 



