, and shrivelled yellowish-green
face, in a shrill squeaking tone, addressed him courteously, though
with an ill-suppressed sneer, inquiring his business in these regions.
But Ralph was too terrified to reply.

"How lucky!" said the old fairy: "we have a mortal here, just in the
nick of time. He will do our bidding rarely, for 'tis the stout miller
hard by, who fears neither fiend nor fairy, man nor witch, by his own
confession. We'll put his courage to the proof."

Ralph was now thawing through terror.

"We would have punished this thine impertinent curiosity, had we not
other business for thee, friend," said the malicious little devilkin.
"Place thy fingers on thy thigh, and swear by Hecate, Merlin, and the
Fairies' Hall, that within three days thou wilt fulfil our behest."

Ralph assented, with a hideous grimace, glad upon any terms to escape.

The whole company disappeared, but a faint, sulphur-like flame hovered
for a while over the spot they had left.

Soon he heard the following words, in a voice of ravishing
sweetness:--

"Mortal I must cease to be,
If no maiden, honestly,
Plight her virgin troth to me,
By yon cold moon's silver shower,
In the chill and mystic hour,
When the arrowy moonbeams fall
In the fairies' festive hall.
Twice her light shall o'er me pass,
Then I am what once I was,
Should no maid, betrothed, but free,
Plight her virgin vow to me."

The music ceased for a short space; then a voice, like the soft
whisper of the summer winds, chanted the following lines in a sort of
monotonous recitation:--

"Mortal, take this unstained token,
Unpledged vows were never broken;
Lay it where a Byron's hand
This message finds from fairy-land,--
Fair Eleanor, the love-sick maid,
Who sighs unto her own soft shade:--
Bid her on this tablet write
What lover's wish would e'er indite;
Then give it to the faithful stream
(As bright and pure as love's first dream)
That murmurs by,--'twill bring to me
The messenger I give to thee.

"But the maiden thou must bring
Hither, to our elfin king,
Ere three days are come and gone,
When the moon hath kissed the stone
By our fairy monarch's throne.
Shouldst thou fail, or she refuse,
Death is thine; or thou may'st choose
With us to chase the moonbeams bright,
Around the busy world. Good night!"

He