24
Bright barbed steels curvetting tread
Their trackless way with antic capers:
And curtain clouds hang overhead,
Festoon’d by rainbow-colour’d vapours.
And when a breath of air would stir
That drapery of Heaven’s own wreathing,
Light wings of primsy gossamer
Just moved and sparkled to the breathing.
Nor wanting was the choral song,
Swelling in silv’ry chimes of sweetness;
To sound of which this subtile throng
Advanced in playful grace and fleetness.
With music’s strain all came and went
Upon poor Cormac’s doubting vision;
Now rising in wild merriment,
Now softly fading in derision.
"Christ, save her soul!" he boldly cried;
And when that blessed name was spoken;
Fierce yells and fiendish shrieks replied,
And vanished all,—the spell was broken.
And now on Corib’s lonely shore,
Freed from his word from power of faery,
To life, to love, restored once more,
Young Cormac welcomes back his Mary.
FINIS.
