PART I.

"And how canst thou in tourneys shine, Or tread the glittering festal floor? On chains of gold and cloth of pile, The looks of high-born Beauty smile; Nor peerless deeds, nor stainless line, Can lift to fame the Poor!"

His Mother spoke; and Elvar sigh'd-- The sigh alone confess'd the truth; He curb'd the thoughts that gall'd the breast-- High thoughts ill suit the russet vest; Yet Arthur's Court, in all its pride, Ne'er saw so fair a youth.

Far, to the forest's stillest shade, Sir Elvar took his lonely way; Beneath an oak, whose gentle frown Dimm'd noon's bright eyes, he laid him down And watch'd a Fount that through the glade, Sang, sparkling up to day.

"As sunlight to the forest tree"-- 'Twas thus his murmur'd musings ran-- "And as amidst the sunlight's glow, The freshness of the fountain's flow-- So--(ah, they never mine may be!)-- Are Gold and Love to Man."

And while he spoke, a gentle air Seem'd stirring through the crystal tides; A gleam, at first both dim and bright, Trembled to shape, in limbs of light, Gilded to sunbeams by the hair That glances where IT glides;[B]

Till, clear and clearer, upward borne, The Fairy of the Fountain rose: The halo quivering round her, grew More steadfast as the shape shone through-- O sure, a second, softer Morn The Elder Daylight knows!

Born from the blue of those deep eyes, Such love its happy self betray'd As only haunts that tender race, With flower or fount, their dwelling-place-- The darling of the earth and skies She rose--that Fairy Maid!

"Listen!" she said, and wave and land Sigh'd back her murmur, murmurously-- "A love more true than minstrel sings, A wealth that mocks the pomp of kings, To him who wins the Fairy's hand A Fairy's dower shall be.

"But not to those can we belong Whose sense the charms of earth allure? If human love hath yet been thine, Farewell,--our laws forbid thee mine. The Children of the Star and Song, We may but bless the Pure!"

"Dream--lovelier far than e'er, I ween, Entranced the glorious Merlin's eyes-- Through childhood, to this happiest hour, All free from human Beauty's power, My heart unresting still hath been A prophet in its sighs.

"Though never living shape hath brought Sweet love, that second life, to me, Yet over earth, and through the heaven, The thoughts that pined for love were driven:-- I see thee--and I feel I sought Through Earth and Heaven for thee!"