Classic Poem

" My visual orbs are purged from film, and lo!
" Instead of Anster's turnip-bearing vales
" I see old fairy land's miraculous show!
" Her trees of tinsel kissed by freakish gales,
" Her Ouphs that, cloaked in leaf-gold, skim the breeze,
" And fairies, swarming — — "

TENNANT'S ANSTER FAIR.

I.

'Tis the middle watch of a summer's night —
The earth is dark, but the heavens are bright;
Nought is seen in the vault on high
But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky,
And the flood which rolls its milky hue,
A river of light on the welkin blue.
The moon looks down on old Cronest,
She mellows the shades on his shaggy breast,
And seems his huge gray form to throw
In a sliver cone on the wave below;

His sides are broken by spots of shade,
By the walnut bough and the cedar made,
And through their clustering branches dark
Glimmers and dies the fire-fly's spark —
Like starry twinkles that momently break
Through the rifts of the gathering tempest's rack.