If you wish, O Madelaine! Where you gaze you long shall reign-- For I'm ruler here! I'm the lord who asks your hand If you do not bid me stand Loving shepherd here! THE FAY AND THE PERI. _("Où vas-tu donc, jeune âme.")_ [XV.] THE PERI. Beautiful spirit, come with me Over the blue enchanted sea: Morn and evening thou canst play In my garden, where the breeze Warbles through the fruity trees; No shadow falls upon the day: There thy mother's arms await Her cherished infant at the gate. Of Peris I the loveliest far-- My sisters, near the morning star, In ever youthful bloom abide; But pale their lustre by my side-- A silken turban wreathes my head, Rubies on my arms are spread, While sailing slowly through the sky, By the uplooker's dazzled eye Are seen my wings of purple hue, Glittering with Elysian dew. Whiter than a far-off sail My form of beauty glows, Fair as on a summer night Dawns the sleep star's gentle light; And fragrant as the early rose That scents the green Arabian vale, Soothing the pilgrim as he goes. THE FAY. Beautiful infant (said the Fay), In the region of the sun I dwell, where in a rich array The clouds encircle the king of day, His radiant journey done. My wings, pure golden, of radiant sheen (Painted as amorous poet's strain), Glimmer at night, when meadows green Sparkle with the perfumed rain While the sun's gone to come again. And clear my hand, as stream that flows; And sweet my breath as air of May; And o'er my ivory shoulders stray Locks of sunshine;--tunes still play From my odorous lips of rose. Follow, follow! I have caves Of pearl beneath the azure waves, And tents all woven pleasantly In verdant glades of Faëry. Come, belovèd child, with me, And I will bear thee to the bowers Where clouds are painted o'er like flowers, And pour into thy charmed ear Songs a mortal may not hear; Harmonies so sweet and ripe As no inspired shepherd's pipe E'er breathed into Arcadian glen, Far from the busy haunts of men. THE PERI. My home is afar in the bright Orient, Where the sun, like a king, in his orange tent, Reigneth for ever in gorgeous pride-- And wafting thee, princess of rich countree, To the soft flute's lush melody, My golden vessel will gently glide, Kindling the water 'long the side.