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I hide me in some winding shell,
And bid its lips with music swell;
Then ditties fill the air around,
Then choral strains together rise,
Now one soft-flowing single sound
Is heard, then at a distance dies;
That warbling is my melody,
It is the seaman's lullaby.

XIII.

At night, when thick white fogs arise,
When no star glimmers in the skies;
When the moon huddles up her horn,
I watch the traveller forlorn;
Lost and bewildered on his way,

He knows not where to turn, the wood
Is dark and drear, and wild dismay
And terror freeze his curdling blood:
As through the gloom his footsteps roam,
He thinks upon his cheerful home;

XIV.

And then, when every bleeding thought With anguish and despair is fraught,

I come to lend a friendly ray,
To light him on his dismal way:
I dissipate the mists that clog
The loaded air; the fires I call
That dance o'er moor, o'er fen, and bog:
I call them, they are present all

To do my bidding, and to lend
Their light to him whom I befriend.

XV.

Sometimes, a night-fire in each hand,
Upon his horse's neck I stand,

And thus I guide his longing eyes
To where the path, seen clearly, lies;
And oft along the mazy way,
In radiant panoply, I dance;
Around my helm bright meteors play,
A blazing meteor is my lance:
My lance and brightening helmet lend
Their light to him whom I befriend.

XVI.

But if no meteors dance about,

If all the night-fires are gone out,

And all is gloomy, thick, and dark,
I counterfeit the watch-dog's bark;
And first I strike his watchful ear a
As if from far, and then I pour

A dinning peal, that seems quite near;
I lead him onward with my roar
Till from some cottage seen, a light
Directs his footsteps through the night.

XVII.

Thus oft I use my friendly power:
But if in evening's dusky hour
Some crafty carl, or cheating knave,
Draws near the precincts of my cave,
I bid dun wreathing mists arise;
Dun wreathing mists soon spread around,
And hide the twilight of the skies.
Then raise I many a fearful sound,

I bid the owl's loud whoop combine
With the lone hedge-pig's sullen whine.

2 The xтUπov dedopna of Æschylus will surely justify the use of this expression.

XVIII.

The culprit feels his way in dread,
Creeping along with cautious tread;
Then in his ear I whistle loud,
And hurrying sounds together croud;
Deep noises follow him behind,
Which way he turns a noise is there,
It shifts about in every wind;

Frantic he grows and wild with fear:
Against his feet rolls some strange heap
And down he falls in swooning sleep.

XIX.

Or else, to lead the wretch astray,
I roll blue fen-fires in his way;
Before him on his path they glide,
As if his erring steps to guide ;
Till all at once their flames go out,

Then with swift whirl, and dazzling light,

They tumble round, and whiz about,
Then scatter wide, then re-unite;

And many a sad and weary round

They lead through mire and plashy ground.

XX.

Or else I lead him to and fro,
Where thorny brakes and brambles grow,
Till in some quagmire fixt at last,

Or reedy fen, I leave him fast;

Then hissing snakes his arms confine

With strict embrace, and round him draw

Their icy scales in sinuous twine,

And warty newts his fingers gnaw;
While in his ear the owlet sings,
And flaps him with her heavy wings.

XXI.

Thus oft, in evening's dusky hour,
I joy to exercise my power;
I scare the pirate on the flood,
I fright the robber in the wood;
And if, defiled by dark deceit,
Oppression, avarice, or fraud,
Some wretch approaches my retreat,
I send my elfin sprites abroad;
With speed my elfin sprites obey,
And fly to haunt him in his way :

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