University of Virginia Library

IV. COME OVER THE LAKE, LOVE!

Come over the lake, Love! come over the lake;
In yonder green island the Elves are awake,
Our bugles they'll hear—and their haunts they'll forsake:
Oh! blow the horn! oh! blow the horn!
Hark! fairies are replying!
Nay, laugh not at fairies, a dangerous jest;
They sport in these valleys when we are at rest;
I'll call them—you'll hear them—let this be the test:
Oh! blow the horn!—oh! blow the horn!
Hark! fairies are replying!
You say 'tis an echo—perhaps you can tell
What echoes are made of, and shew where they dwell?
If not—why my fairies at least do as well!
Oh! blow the horn!—oh! blow the horn!
Hark! fairies are replying!