THE RIVER DUDDON
XI. THE FAERY CHASM
THE RIVER DUDDON
NO fiction was it of the antique age: A sky-blue stone, within this sunless cleft, Is of the very footmarks unbereft Which tiny Elves impressed;–on that smooth stage Dancing with all their brilliant equipage In secret revels–haply after theft Of some sweet Babe–Flower stolen, and coarse Weed left For the distracted Mother to assuage Her grief with, as she might!–But, where, oh! where Is traceable a vestige of the notes 10 That ruled those dances wild in character?– Deep underground? Or in the upper air, On the shrill wind of midnight? or where floats O’er twilight fields the autumnal gossamer?