Plainer now, thou hear'st the fountain,

Murm'ring brook, and tinkling bell; Day has gone, beyond the mountain;

Eventide is in the dell....

Go, gentle wand'rer, go!

The task is o'er, the tale is told :
And, sure, thy heart will ne'er withhold
One pray'r, that Hubert's bitter tears
May blot the crime of former years;
One sigh, for Ellen's wo.

THE TRIAL OF THE HARP.

THE TRIAL OF THE HARP.

Now, blithe, the fairy circles glide,

In frolick dance, at eventide ;

They screen their forms, from mortal

eye,

In green and silver livery:

Green is the mead, on which they stray,

And silver is the moonbeam's ray.

Within the magick ring,

There stands a cave, whose thousand
The silver beam, in pride, displays;
Blending the crystal's gairish sheen,
With lively light of jasper green :

rays