My best thanks are due to Mr. William Allingham for his permission to insert several graceful poems; to Mr. Philip James Bailey for the use of his mystical “Fairy Tale;” to Dr. Charles Mackay for similar kindness in respect of his “Kelpie of Corrievreckan,” and to a number of recent writers who have generously contributed to the adornment of this collection. The omission of several poems by illustrious contemporary poets, whose copyrights are vigilantly reserved by their publishers, will be viewed by indulgent readers as a matter of necessity, however much it may be regretted. ARTHUR EDWARD WAITE. The Foreview. FAIRYLAND. Dim vales, and shadowy floods, And cloudy-looking woods; Whose forms we can’t discover For the tears that drip all over; Huge moons there wax and wane— Again, again, again— Every moment of the night, For ever changing places; And they put out the star-light With the breath from their pale faces. About twelve by the moon-dial, One more filmy than the rest (A kind which, upon trial, They have found to be the best) Comes down—still down—and down With its centre on the crown Of a mountain’s eminence; While its wide circumference In easy drapery falls Over hamlets, over halls, Wherever they may be— O’er the strange woods, o’er the sea, Over spirits on the wing, Over every drowsy thing— And buries them up quite In a labyrinth of light; And then, how deep!—O, deep, Is the passion of their sleep! In the morning they arise, And their moony covering Is soaring in the skies, With the tempests as they toss, Like—almost anything, Or a yellow albatross. They use that moon no more For the same end as before— Videlicet a tent— Which I think extravagant: Its atomies, however, Into a shower dissever, Of which those butterflies Of earth, who seek the skies, And so come down again, (Never contented things!) Have brought a specimen Upon their quivering wings. EDGAR ALLAN POE. Prelude. FAIRIES’ RECALL. While the blue is richest In the starry sky, While the softest shadows On the greensward lie, While the moonlight slumbers In the lily’s urn, Bright elves of the wild-wood! Oh! return, return! Round the forest fountain, On the river shore, Let your silvery laughter Echo yet once more; While the joyous bounding Of your dewy feet Rings to that old chorus: “The daisy is so sweet!” Oberon, Titania, Did your starlight mirth With the song of Avon Quit this work-day earth? Yet while green leaves glisten, And while bright stars burn, By that magic memory, Oh, return, return! FELICIA HEMANS. The Fairy Family. THE ROLLS OF ELFIN EMPEROURS.