All that saddens, and care and pain, Are banished far from that fair domain; There forever, by day and night, Is naught but pleasance and love’s delight; Daily, the Genii of the flowers Shade with beauty a hundred bowers; Nightly, the Gnomes of precious stones Emblazon and light a hundred thrones; And the Elves of the field, so swift and mute, Bring wine and honey and luscious fruit; And the Sylphs of the air, at noontide, cool The depths of each bower and vestibule; And all are gay,—from the tricksome Fay Who flutters in woodlands far away, To the best-beloved attendant Elf, And the royal heart of the king himself, Who rules in bright Canary; And the labouring Fairies are blithe and merry, Who press the juice from the swollen berry That reddens the vines of sweet Canary. VI. What if there be a fated day When the Faëry Isle shall pass away, And its beautiful groves and fountains seem The myths of a long, delicious dream! A century’s joys shall first repay Our hearts, for the evil of that day; And the Elfin-King has sworn to wed A daughter of Earth, whose child shall be, By cross and water hallowéd, From the fairies’ doom forever free. What if there be a fated day! It is far away! it is far away! Maiden, fair Maiden, I, who sing Of this summer isle, am the island king. I come from its joys to make thee mine: Half of my kingdom shall be thine; Our horses of air and ocean wait— Then hasten, and share the Elle-King’s state In the sweet isle of Canary; And many an Ariel, blithsome, airy, And each laughing fay and lithesome fairy, Shall rovingly hover around and over thee, And the love of a king shall evermore cover thee, Nightly and daily in sweet Canary. EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN. THE FERLIE. A Ferlie came ben to me yestreen, A lady jimp an’ sma’, Wi’ a milk-white snood an’ a kirtle green, Yellow an’ roun were her bonny e’en, And she said, “Will ye come awa’? “Will ye gang wi’ me to the Elflyn Knowe, To milk our queene’s coo?” “Na, na,” quo’ I, “I maun shear my sheep, I’ve my barn to bigg, an’ my corn to reap, Sae I canna come the noo.” The ferlie skirled as she turned to gae, For an angry elf was she, “O a wilfu’ man maun hae his way, An I mak’ sma’ doot but ye’ll rue the day That ye wouldna gang wi’ me.” “O, ance again will ye speir at me An’ I’ll aiblins come awa’?” “O I’ll come again to your yetts,” quo’ she, “When broom blooms bright on yon rowan-tree An’ the laverock sings i’ th’ snaw!” GRAHAM R. TOMSON. Miscellaneous. THE FOUNTAIN OF THE FAIRIES.