152 THE FRESH-WATER SIREN. 



Her foul bloated body now sank and now rose, 



While (a scratch for a thrust) she returned the hard blows, 



That came pattering like hail on her tough old hide, 



As her mail-clad opponent his falchion plied. 



Till the moon had gone down did the battle last : 



When the game was up, the beldame was cast. 



As a Siren, she troubled the world no more, 



But a charmed life (by worse luck) she bore, 



And with small change of manners, and little of feature, 



Was transformed to a Spider, a dark cunning creature, 



That beneath running waters constructs a dry cell, 



Where through summer and winter she's wont to dwell ; 



While the knight 'gainst whose prowess her sorceries failed, 



Is the " Great Water Beetle," amphibious and mailed. 



Ye lovers of marvel and fairy lore, 



Say not that the days of enchantment are o'er, 



That the well-springs of Fancy and Fable fail, 



For they water the realms whence we've drawn our tale. 



There are streamlets yet where the river-sprite 



With his Harlequin changes bewilders the sight ; 



There are castles yet of ivory and gold, 



Hung with floral fabrics by sun-shine unroll'd, 



Within whose luxurious recesses recline 



Fays of exquisite form, quaffing exquisite wine : 



