ler fortune thy person shall meet;
Into paint will I grind thee, my bride!"

Then, seizing the maid by her dark auburn hair,
An oil-jug he plung'd her within.
Seven days, seven nights, with the shrieks of despair
Did Ellen in torment convulse the dim air,
All cover'd with oil to the chin.

On the morn of the eighth on a huge sable stone
Then Ellen, all reeking, he laid;
With a rock for his muller, he crush'd every bone;
But though ground to jelly, still, still did she groan;
For life had forsook not the maid.

Now reaching his palette with masterly care,
Each tint on the surface he spread;
The blue of her eyes, and the brown of her hair,
The pearl and the white of her forehead so fair
And her lips' and her cheeks' rosy red.

Then stamping his foot, did the monster exclaim,
"Now I brave, cruel Fairy, thy scorn!"
When lo! from a chasm unfathom'd there came
A small tiny chariot of rose-colour'd flame,
By a team of ten glowworms upborne.

Enthron'd in the midst on an emerald bright,
Fair Geraldine sat without peer;
Her robe was the gleam of the first blush of light,
And her mantle the fleece of a noon-cloud white,
And a beam of the moon was her spear.

In a voice that stole on the still charmed air,
Like the first gentle accent of Eve,
Thus spake from her chariot the Fairy so fair:
"I come at thy call ... but, oh Paint-King! beware,
Beware if again you deceive."

"'Tis true," said the monster, "thou queen of my heart!
Thy portrait I oft have essay'd;
Yet ne'er to the canvass could I with my art
The least of thy wonderful beauties impart;
And my failure with scorn you repaid.

"Now I swear, by the light of the Comet-King's tail!"
And he tower'd with pride as he spoke,
"If again with these magical colours I fail,
The crater of Etna shall hence be my jail,
And my food shall be sulphur and smoke.

"But if I succeed, then, oh! fair Geraldine!
Thy promise with rapture, I claim,
And thou, queen of Fairies, shalt ever be mine
The bride of my bed; and thy portrait divine
Shall fill all the earth with my fame."

He spake; when, behold the fair Geraldine's form
On the canvass enchantingly glow'd;
His touches, they flew like the leaves in a storm;
And the pure, pearly white, an