Again, yet once again, during the days of my weary mortal pilgrimage, did the blessed vision of the veritable Fairy Land open upon my enchanted sight! Once more I found myself in that world of inexpressible beauty! The radiance and sweetness of delicious morning were around me;--balmy were the stealthy, odorous winds;--and the fluttering verdure of that pleasant land glittered like countless emeralds, and swelled itself in the breeze, as if conscious of, and glorying in, its immortality! Beside me flowed a river--or rather, a broad, bright, lovely lake--slumbering as stilly in the morning light as those who are at peace with the world, and with Heaven. Romantic woods skirted the shores of this waveless water;--here trees, for which the language of man hath no name, drooped gracefully over the liquid crystal--as if, in enamoured admiration, gazing upon their richly-coloured, luxuriant, and feathery foliage, reflected in vivid freshness upon the bosom of that transcendently natural mirror;--there, copse-wood, equally foreign and lovely, closed all interstices--whilst fruits of tempting form and colour, and flowers of inimitable hues, flashed like gems in the unclouded sunlight. I bowed down my head for a draught of the cool, clear waters, and immediately upon tasting them, felt through my frame a pleasant, vivifying thrill;--I felt also as if I had at once thrown off the heavy trammels of mortality, with its wearying cares, its feverish hopes, and its over-burdening sorrows. Light as air, fresh as morning, and joyful as the martyr at the gates of death, I gazed on the enchanting loveliness around me. "_Come!_" sighed a voice, low and mellifluous as that of the wind-harp, parleying with "_the breath of the sweet south_,"--"ravishing and radiant as is this spot, its bowery beauty must thou quit, for the splendour of the _Golden City_, the _City of the Fairies!_ Thrice happy mortal! thither, even to _our_ city, am I commissioned to conduct thee!--_Come!_"