“He cast a saddened look around, But he felt new joy his bosom swell, When, glittering on the shadowed ground, He saw a purple muscle shell; Thither he ran, and he bent him low, He heaved at the stern, and he heaved at the bow, And he pushed her over the yielding sand, Till he came to the verge of the haunted land. She was as lovely a pleasure boat As ever fairy had paddled in, For she glowed with purple paint without, And shone with silvery pearl within; A sculler’s notch in the stem he made, An oar he shaped of the bootle blade; Then sprung to his seat with a lightsome leap, And launched afar on the calm blue deep.” Guarded in this manner from the machinations of his enemies, whose power was bounded by the wave, our adventurer holds on his course uninjured, and effects his purpose. His return, surrounded by a crowd of ocean nymphs, is beautifully represented. We refer our readers to the volume for the passage. Here the scene of this poem changes, and we find our Fay is still destined to another duty--one far more difficult than any he has yet accomplished. The remainder of his sentence now demands attention. “Thy flame-wood lamp is quenched and dark, Thou must re-illume its spark. Mount thy steed and spur him high To the heaven’s blue canopy; And when thou seest a shooting star, Follow it fast, and follow it far-- The last faint spark of its burning train Shall light the elfin lamp again. Thou hast heard our sentence, Fay; Hence! to the water-side, away!” To the execution of this last injunction all his powers are now directed, and we find him thus equipped for this most daring enterprise. “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.” From the passage above quoted to the close of the poem, is extended a long series of most exquisite description. Each instant of our flight, unfolds to our enraptured vision scenes ever changing, and increasing in their splendor. Already have we hurried by the misty region of the cloud. “The sapphire sheet of eve is shot, The sphered moon is past, The earth but seems a tiny blot On a sheet of azure cast.” We rest not till we stand beside