III.

Who has not wandered forth in the calm noon Of a clear night, and felt a pleasing, deep Regret, a sadness that he should so soon

Leave that sweet light for the repose of sleep And blank forgetfulness ?-it is a boon,

Like glimpses of all beauteous things, which keep

Possession of the heart through good and ill, 'Midst sunshine, storms, or cold it lives there still.

IV.

'Twas such a night as this, in Tailton vale,

The Danaan palace rang with festive song; Hundreds of warriors clad in glittering mail Mingled with ladies here and there along The halls like phantoms of a fairy tale.

Some joined the dancers' bright and mazy throng, And some in magic mirrors sought to see The dim impression of futurity.

V.

It was a princely banquet; all the pride
And pomp of royalty assembled there,
To grace the nuptials of a Danaan bride

With the Dannonians' favourite prince and heir
The magic guards were ranged in groups outside,
And spells of deep enchantments filled the air
While usquebaugh and nectar flowed around
In golden goblets through the palace ground.

VI.

But when the feast is at its height, and joy,
And mirth and gladness filled each glowing breast,
There came a change for ever to destroy

The peace and gladness of both host and guest. What are those sounds the royal feast annoy?

Why that wild wail as if from souls distressed? Why flames the tripods' lights red, blue, and green ? Why wave the banners fierce by hands unseen!

VII.

Confusion thickens: hideous forms appear
And glide along the banquet-halls of state,
Statues advance to grasp the brand and spear,
While muttering voices chant the dirge of fate.
Now far away, and now fearfully near.

Full well they know these omens, and await
Until their incantations should disclose
The force and aim of their advancing foes.

VIII.

The seer is summoned, and the spell is cast;

High flames the cauldron in the banquet-hall. How stands the spell? What tells that lurid blast? Is the Dannonian dynasty to fall?

Or is their power, still unimpaired, to last?
Come, spirits of the deep, earth, air, and all
Open the Book of Fate, and let them see
The annals of their future destiny.

IX.

The prince of sorcerers, with charm and spell,
And many a mystic rite moves round the blaze,
Invoking those deep shadowy shapes that dwell
Beyond the ken of mortal, and can gaze
Into the future, to appear and tell

The issue of the contest, and the ways

And means they should adopt to crush the foe, And all the occult forms of Chance to know.

ODE XV.

THE SPELL.

I.

KING GREINE.

By the power of this spell,
Spirits, wheresoe'er ye dwell,
In the caverns of the deep,
Or where wild tornadoes sweep,
In the farthest realms of night,
Or within the rainbow's light,
By the mountain or the stream,
Or in flashing lightning's gleam,
In the moonlight's silvery ray,
Or the orient beams of day,
Wheresoever you may dwell,
Spirits, now obey this spell :

By this thrice enchanted spear
We command you to appear!

SPIRITS' VOICES.

We are here!

KING GREINE.

79

There are spirits on the wing,
Hovering round this magic ring,
Something in our hearts declare
Millions of them fill the air :
We can feel that they are near;
Mystic beings, now appear!

SPIRITS' VOICES.

Mortal, ask not such a boon ;
If we were to grant it, soon
You would all, like withered heath,
Blasted be by lightnings' breath
And would sink in instant death;
For whenever mortal eyes

Look on us that moment dies.

KING GREINE.

Mock me not with idle fears,
I have looked on your compeers,
Great and powerful as thou art,
And they could not shake my heart.

SPIRITS' VOICES.

Summoned by a milder spell,
We might then appear and tell

Thee of future things that lower,
But we're here in all our power,
Clad in panoply of light,

Which would blast all mortal sight!
Come, sweet spirits, let's away
Ere the opening hour of day.

KING GREINE.

Dread, mysterious beings, stay!
Leave us not without a sign

How this roaming Gadeline

May be driven from our shore
And their power quenched in gore.

SPIRITS' VOICES.

The four elements we bear-
Fire, water, earth, and air—
Mortal, call on any spright
That is hov'ring here to-night,
And you then may know the aid
Which we grant you ere we fade
Into beams of coming light,
And with them again unite!

II.

KING GREINE.

Come, mild spirit of the air,
We, thy magic children, dare
Ask what gift you can bestow,
That we may subdue the foe?