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Ægle and the elf

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ÆGLE AND THE ELF

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

STEREOTYPERS and PRINTERS

Ægle and the Elf.

A FANTASY.

BY
M. B. M. TOLAND,
AUTHOR OF “SIR RAE,” “IRIS,” “ONTI ORA,” “THE INCA PRINCESS,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED
WITH PHOTOGRAVURES OF ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY EMINENT ARTISTS.

PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
London: 10 Henrietta Street, Covent Garden.
1887.

Copyright, 1886, by J. B. Lippincott Company.

DESIGNS.

LIST OF DRAWINGS

The Nymph’s caverned cell Frontispiece.
Modelled by Theodor Baur.
The moonbeams were lighting the watery way PAGE 13
Drawn by Wm. St. John Harper.
The lovely young Naiads were swaying the tree 17
Drawn by H. Siddons Mowbray.
When lo! a fair vision arose on the tide 21
Drawn by F. S. Church.
Surprising a young woodland Elf 25
Drawn by F. S. Church.
On a tree-top he sat, with a quizzical face 29
Drawn by W. Hamilton Gibson.
Seemed waving her form from his sight 33
Drawn by Wm. St. John Harper.
Three lovely young Naiads arose on the tide 37
Drawn by S. W. Van Schaick.
He blindly plunged into the tide 41
Drawn by H. Siddons Mowbray.
The Naiads had vanished like flashes of light 45
Drawn by Jessie Shepherd.
“Young Elfin, thyself in thy element keep!” 49
Drawn by Jessie Shepherd.
All dripping and skipping he o’er the bank sped 53
Drawn by W. Hamilton Gibson.
I suddenly woke from my nap by the stream 57
Drawn by Wm. St. John Harper.
Decorative Designs.
Drawn by René T. Quelin.

ÆGLE

The moonbeams were lighting the watery way,
That rimpled
And dimpled,—
The Nymphs were at play;

’Neath willows whose branches were kissing the stream
So lightly
And brightly,
It almost would seem
The lovely young Naiads were swaying the tree,
To lash it
And dash it,
In frolicking glee.

I rested my oars on my frail little boat,
Still gliding,
Dividing
The cresses afloat.
When lo! a fair vision arose on the tide;
A maiden
All laden
With lilies to hide

Her love-dimpled blushes from glances too bold;
A daughter
Of water,
Like Venus of old.
She stood for one moment admiring herself;
Uprising,
Surprising
A young woodland Elf,

Who left his own forest in mirth-loving glee,
To ramble
And gambol
In wild ecstasy.
On a tree-top he sat, with a quizzical face,
Ne’er tiring
Admiring
The beauty and grace

Of Ægle, who saw, mirrored close by her side,
The young Elf
By herself
Impressed on the tide.
She instantly sank amid ripples of light,
That, laving,
Seemed waving
Her form from his sight.

Three lovely young Naiads arose on the tide,
While swimming
Were trimming
And drawing aside
A budding branch, cedar, that shaded so well,
Reposing,
And closing
The Nymph’s caverned cell.

So charming she looked in her fairy-queen pride,
And kindly,
He blindly
Plunged into the tide.
The water was instantly lashed into spray;
Half drowning,
And frowning,
The Elf got away.

The Naiads had vanished like flashes of light;
No daughter
Of water
Condoled his sad plight.
But ripples of laughter were heard everywhere,
With singing
And ringing
Of fairy-bells there.

The echoes trilled back from the grottos down deep,
“Young Elfin,
Thyself in
Thy element keep!”
Then home to his wild-wood returned the young Elf
Most gladly,
Though madly,
While drying himself.

He plumed his gay cap on his queer little head,
All dripping
And skipping
He o’er the bank sped.

I suddenly woke from my nap by the stream,
Astounded!
Confounded!
Behold! ’Twas a dream.