SPIRIT-LAND.--_A Taoist priest of Lin-ch‘ung, of the Hung-tu school, Was able, by his perfect art, to summon the spirits of the dead. Anxious to relieve the fretting mind of his sovereign, This magician receives orders to urge a diligent quest. Borne on the clouds, charioted upon ether, he rushes with the speed of lightning High up to heaven, low down to earth, seeking everywhere. Above, he searches the empyrean; below, the Yellow Springs, But nowhere in these vast areas can her place be found. At length he hears of an Isle of the Blest away in mid-ocean, Lying in realms of vacuity, dimly to be descried. There gaily decorated buildings rise up like rainbow clouds, And there many gentle and beautiful Immortals pass their days in peace. Among them is one whose name sounds upon lips as Eternal, And by her snow-white skin and flower-like face he knows that this is she. Knocking at the jade door at the western gate of the golden palace, He bids a fair waiting-maid announce him to her mistress, fairer still. She, hearing of this embassy sent by the Son of Heaven, Starts up from her dreams among the tapestry curtains. Grasping her clothes and pushing away the pillow, she arises in haste, And begins to adorn herself with pearls and jewels. Her cloud-like coiffure, dishevelled, shows that she has just risen from sleep, And with her flowery head-dress awry, she passes into the hall. The sleeves of her immortal robes are filled out by the breeze, As once more she seems to dance to the “Rainbow Skirt and Feather Jacket.” Her features are fixed and calm, though myriad tears fall, Wetting a spray of pear-bloom, as it were with the raindrops of spring. Subduing her emotions, restraining her grief, she tenders thanks to his Majesty, Saying how since they parted she has missed his form and voice; And how, although their love on earth