"And lo! upon the air we saw him stretch His passionate arms; and, in a wayward strain, He 'gan to elegize that fellow wretch That with mute gestures answer'd him again, Saying, 'Poor slave, how long wilt thou remain Life's sad weak captive in a prison strong, Hoping with tears to rust away thy chain, In bitter servitude to worldly wrong?-- Thou wear'st that mortal livery too long!'" LXXII. "This, with more spleenful speeches and some tears, When he had spent upon the imaged wave, Speedily I convened my elfin peers Under the lily-cups, that we might save This woeful mortal from a wilful grave By shrewd diversions of his mind's regret, Seeing he was mere Melancholy's slave, That sank wherever a dark cloud he met, And straight was tangled in her secret net." LXXIII. "Therefore, as still he watch'd the water's flow, Daintily we transform'd, and with bright fins Came glancing through the gloom; some from below Rose like dim fancies when a dream begins, Snatching the light upon their purple skins; Then under the broad leaves made slow retire: One like a golden galley bravely wins Its radiant course,--another glows like fire,-- Making that wayward man our pranks admire." LXXIV. "And so he banish'd thought, and quite forgot All contemplation of that wretched face; And so we wiled him from that lonely spot Along the river's brink; till, by heaven's grace, He met a gentle haunter of the place, Full of sweet wisdom gather'd from the brooks, Who there discuss'd his melancholy case With wholesome texts learned from kind nature's books, Meanwhile he newly trimm'd his lines and hooks." LXXV. Herewith the Fairy ceased. Quoth Ariel now-- "Let me remember how I saved a man, Whose fatal noose was fastened on a bough, Intended to abridge his sad life's span; For haply I was by when he began His stern soliloquy in life dispraise, And overheard his melancholy plan, How he had made a vow to end his days, And therefore follow'd him in all his ways." LXXVI. "Through brake and tangled copse, for much he loathed All populous haunts, and roam'd in forests rude, To hide himself from man. But I had clothed My delicate limbs with plumes, and still pursued, Where only foxes and wild cats intrude, Till we were come beside an ancient tree Late blasted by a storm. Here he renew'd His loud complaints,--choosing that spot to be The scene of his last horrid tragedy." LXXVII. "It was a wild and melancholy glen, Made gloomy by tall firs and cypress dark, Whose roots, like any bones of buried men, Push'd through the rotten sod for fear's remark; A hundred horrid stems, jagged and stark, Wrestled with crooked arms in hideous fray, Besides sleek ashes with their dappled bark, Like crafty serpents climbing for a prey, With many blasted oaks moss-grown and gray." LXXVIII.