Now of old the isle of Rugen was full of Dwarfs and Trolls, The brown-faced little Earth-men, the people without souls; And for every man and woman in Rugen's island found Walking in air and sunshine, a Troll was underground. It chanced the little maiden, one morning, strolled away Among the haunted Nine Hills, where the elves and goblins play. That day, in barley-fields below, the harvesters had known Of evil voices in the air, and heard the small horns blown. She came not back; the search for her in field and wood was vain They cried her east, they cried her west, but she came not again. "She's down among the Brown Dwarfs," said the dream-wives wise and old, And prayers were made, and masses said, and Rambin's church bell tolled. Five years her father mourned her; and then John Deitrich said "I will find my little playmate, be she alive or dead." He watched among the Nine Hills, he heard the Brown Dwarfs sing, And saw them dance by moonlight merrily in a ring. And when their gay-robed leader tossed up his cap of red, Young Deitrich caught it as it fell, and thrust it on his head. The Troll came crouching at his feet and wept for lack of it. "Oh, give me back my magic cap, for your great head unfit!" "Nay," Deitrich said; "the Dwarf who throws his charmed cap away, Must serve its finder at his will, and for his folly pay. "You stole my pretty Lisbeth, and hid her in the earth; And you shall ope the door of glass and let me lead her forth." "She will not come; she's one of us; she's mine!" the Brown Dwarf said; The day is set, the cake is baked, to-morrow we shall wed." "The fell fiend fetch thee!" Deitrich cried, "and keep thy foul tongue still. Quick! open, to thy evil world, the glass door of the hill!" The Dwarf obeyed; and youth and Troll down, the long stair-way passed, And saw in dim and sunless light a country strange and vast. Weird, rich, and wonderful, he saw the elfin under-land,-- Its palaces of precious stones, its streets of golden sand. He came unto a banquet-hall with tables richly spread, Where a young maiden served to him the red wine and the bread. How fair she seemed among the Trolls so ugly and so wild! Yet pale and very sorrowful, like one who never smiled! Her low, sweet voice, her gold-brown hair, her tender blue eyes seemed Like something he had seen elsewhere or some. thing he had dreamed. He looked; he clasped her in his arms; he knew the long-lost one; "O Lisbeth! See thy playmate--I am the Amptman's son!"