"See, thy destined victim see, Bright, and chaste, and pure as thee, Let this sinless virgin please thee, Sinful man could ne'er appease thee." SECOND BARD. "Round her brows the wild flowers see, Emblems of thy purity-- Touch'd by mortal's fingers never;-- Round her breast the oak survey, Which like thee can ne'er decay-- Innocence endures for ever." THIRD BARD. "Spirit! who no birth has known, Springing from thyself alone, We thy living emblem show In the mystic mistletoe:-- Springs and grows without a root-- Yields without flower its fruit-- Seeks from earth no mother's care-- Lives and blooms the child of air." FOURTH BARD. "Thou dost thy mystic circle trace Along the vaulted blue profound, And, emblematic of thy race, We tread our mystic circle round." ALL THE BARDS. "Shine upon us, mighty God-- Raise this drooping world of ours-- Send from thy divine abode, Cheering sun and fruitful showers." The lovely Ella was then enclosed in the wicker cabin: a quantity of dry withered leaves, and small dry branches, were laid all round the cabin ready to set fire to. Every one of the crowd was obliged to furnish at least one stick towards producing a fire to consume the victim. But Mudor stood at a distance, determined rather to incur the vengeance of the Invisible Spirit than add one particle to the destruction of his adorable Ella. The Arch-Druid took two pieces of wood, and exposing them to the sun, rubbed them together, while all the bards chanted the following verse:-- "Sun descend in a ray of light, Wrapp'd in thy power and clad in thy might; Come in a red and a fiery stream, Come in a bright and glowing beam; Come in thy flaming chariot down, Burn the wood in a flame of thy own." The friction of the two pieces of wood had the desired effect--they took fire. The sticks and leaves round the cabin which contained the ill-fated Ella were instantly in a blaze. As the flames arose the bards chanted, with loud voices, the following verses:-- "Mighty Sovereign of the skies, Accept this virgin sacrifice, Let her spotless soul atone For wicked actions not her own. As to death her spirit stoops, As she faints and as she droops, Lay aside thy fiery crown And spare, O spare, her native town! She was good, and she was kind, And she possess'd a heavenly mind; Wicked man could ne'er atone For his sins and crimes alone, A purer victim must be found To wash the stain away."