A moment and its lustre fell, But ere it met the billow blue, He caught within his crimson bell, A droplet of its sparkling dew-- Joy to thee, Fay! thy task is done, Thy wings are pure, for the gem is won-- Cheerly ply thy dripping oar, And haste away to the elfin shore. XXIII. He turns, and lo! on either side The ripples on his path divide; And the track o'er which his boat must pass Is smooth as a sheet of polished glass. Around, their limbs the sea-nymphs lave, With snowy arms half swelling out, While on the glossed and gleamy wave Their sea-green ringlets loosely float; They swim around with smile and song; They press the bark with pearly hand, And gently urge her course along, Toward the beach of speckled sand; And, as he lightly leapt to land, They bade adieu with nod and bow, Then gayly kissed each little hand, And dropped in the crystal deep below. XXIV. A moment staied the fairy there; He kissed the beach and breathed a prayer, Then spread his wings of gilded blue, And on to the elfin court he flew; As ever ye saw a bubble rise, And shine with a thousand changing dyes, Till lessening far through ether driven, It mingles with the hues of heaven: As, at the glimpse of morning pale, The lance-fly spreads his silken sail, And gleams with blendings soft and bright, Till lost in the shades of fading night; So rose from earth the lovely Fay-- So vanished, far in heaven away! * * * * * Up, Fairy! quit thy chick-weed bower, The cricket has called the second hour, Twice again, and the lark will rise To kiss the streaking of the skies-- Up! thy charmed armour don, Thou'lt need it ere the night be gone. XXV. He put his acorn helmet on; It was plumed of the silk of the thistle down: The corslet plate that guarded his breast Was once the wild bee's golden vest; His cloak, of a thousand mingled dyes, Was formed of the wings of butterflies; His shield was the shell of a lady-bug queen, Studs of gold on a ground of green; And the quivering lance which he brandished bright, Was the sting of a wasp he had slain in fight. Swift he bestrode his fire-fly steed; He bared his blade of the bent grass blue; He drove his spurs of the cockle seed, And away like a glance of thought he flew, To skim the heavens and follow far The fiery trail of the rocket-star. XXVI.