_Ros._ Little Jinkling! friend of mine! Where dost lurk when fairies dine? At the banquet round and round Searching, thee I never found. Comest thou late? The feast is done; Slowly sinks the mighty sun. _Jink._ Nay, fay! I was far away. Over the tree-tops did I soar Twenty leagues and twenty more. Swift and high goes the dragon-fly, And steady the death’s-head moth, But the little bird with his beak awry Is a better saddle than both! The lovely Lady of Elfin-Mere, I had a message for her ear. _Ros._ Of state? _Jink._ Of state: of import great, I must not even to thee relate. _Ros._ And is she fair? _Jink._ Thrice fair is she; The pearly moon less delicately Comes shining onward than this Lady From her water-palace shady Floats across the lucent lake, And all her starry lilies make Obeisance; every water-sprite Gazing after with delight, Only wishing he might dare Just to touch her streaming hair, Meanwhile, crowds of fairies glide Over, under, the crystal tide, Some on swimming-birds astride, Some with merry fishes at play, Darting round her rippling way. _Ros._ There was your banquet! _Jink._ There indeed, Among the lily and the reed. Wavy music, as we feasted, Floating round us while we floated, Soothed our pleasure and increased it; Mirth and jest more briskly glancing Than the water-diamonds dancing Down the lake where sunshine smote it. Bright and gay!—might not stay!— White the hand I kiss’d, O fay, Leap’d on my bird, and sped away. Hast any news to tell me? _Ros._ Much! Never didst thou hear of such. _Jink._ A fight with spiders?—hornets?—perils Teasing owls, or chasing squirrels? Or some little elf, poor soul, Lost in a winding rabbit-hole? Are the royal trees in danger? _Ros._ Dost thou mind the Blue-cap Stranger, Brightkin by his name, that we Met ere noontide lullaby? _Jink._ Came he to your Feast?