o prevent our entrance into this
ethereal region, and in their own desolate and accursed country to
insult the veritable Fairy Land by employing their small remnant of
celestial power in creating imitations of it, as paltry as absurd. Know
also, O mortal! that whilst with, and for, man, we abide upon earth, we
have no land, no home;--like himself, 'strangers and pilgrims' are we;
nor is it until the period when our ministry is accomplished (and of the
finale of that period are none of us informed) that we are wafted on the
gentle breezes of heaven to this celestial planet, which, lighted by the
same sun which blesseth your own, is too small to be visible to the eyes
of its inquisitive philosophers. Hark! this day was a Fairy emancipated
from earthly thraldom, and the bells of the Golden City are singing for
joy!"

The voice died away in the breeze; yet still I listened, in the hope of
hearing again those accents, as pure, distinct, and musical, as were the
small, sweet harps which, seated on the greensward at no great distance
from me, a group of Fays were tuning, whilst sundry light and rapid
flourishes seemed to prelude an intended song. The bells of the City
of the Fairies sunk one by one into silence; the scented breeze flowed
languidly as dropping into slumber; a hush of nature pervaded the
blessed region; and sad was my spirit to think that it could not dwell
in this Elfin Eden for ever! A stream of melody now broke the holy
quietness of the land, which resembled the aspirations of those who know
neither sorrow nor sin. The breathing instruments sighed, rather than
distinctly uttered, tones, according well with those fine and delicate
voices which, as they stole in gentle words upon my entranced senses,
were sweet and penetrating as the aroma of unfading flowers:--

THE ELFIN EVENING SONG.

Farewell! farewell! departing sun!
Thy disk is dim, thy course is run;
Long hast thou lit our land of flowers,--
Now, night must veil our hallow'd bowers.

Farewell bright sun! farewell sweet day!
We mourn not that ye glide away,
Since ev'ry fleeting hour doth bless
Where days and dreams are numberless.

Farewell bright sun! thou'lt wander forth
From hence, to east, and south, and north,
Till, weary of man's guilt and pain,
Thoul't turn thee to _our_ land again.

Farewell sweet day! our songs shall hail
Thine earliest dawn so pure, and pale,--
For shadowy night ere long must, cease