For long-expected good;--

"Oh, cruel WOLE!
Where is my BERTHO in this mountain hidden?--
Shaping fantastic dreams of heartless OENE,
With aching hands into a tangible beauty.
How can'st thou keep two yearning souls apart?
If _thou_ could'st feel what love is, mighty master
Of loveless War, then thou would'st pity me!"

"Thou shalt behold thy lover, southern girl,"
Was WOLE's reply, and reaching round the rock
Took up a horn shorn from some monster's head
And blew in it a blast meant to be angry:
Yet strangely pining from the curves it came,
And went down wailing through the pallid sunlight,
For it was born of the tumultuous sigh
Stirred in his bosom by the lovely stranger.

Soon the sound smote against a pinnacle
Which someway down the mountain had just caught
The radiance of the morning, and now stood
A ruby palace on a crystal base,
With emrald towers and columns sapphire-hued:
While at the summons, swift was lifted up
A shining net-work from behind the columns,
And out there flew two fair, unearthly sprites,
With wings like birds of Paradise, and bodies
Of shape uncertain; for so swiftly shifted
Their rainbow hues amid enwreathing mists,