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Then high from the ground did the grim monster lift The loud-screaming maid like a blast;
And he sped through the air like a meteor swift, While the clouds, wand'ring by him, did fearfully drift To the right and the left as he pass'd.
Now suddenly sloping his hurricane flight,
The air all below him becomes black as night,
"I am here!” said the Fiend, and he thundering knock'd At the gates of a mountainous cave;
The gates open flew, as by magic unlock'd,
While the peaks of the mount, reeling to and fro, rock'd Like an island of ice on the wave.
Oh, mercy!" cried Ellen, and swoon'd in his arms, But the PAINT-KING, he scoff'd at her pain;
"Prithee, love," said the monster, "what mean these alarms?"
She hears not, she sees not the terrible charms,
She opens her lids, but no longer her eyes
On the skull of a Titan, that Heaven defied,
Sat the fiend, like the grim Giant Gog, While aloft to his mouth a huge pipe he applied, Twice as big as the Eddystone Lighthouse, descried As it looms through an easterly fog.
And anon, as he puff'd the vast volumes, were seen In horrid festoons on the wall,
Legs and arms, heads and bodies emerging between, Like the drawing-room grim of the Scotch Sawney Beane,
By the Devil dress'd out for a Ball.
"Ah me!" cried the damsel, and fell at his feet; "Must I hang on these walls to be dried ?" "Oh, no!" said the fiend, while he sprung from his seat, "A far nobler fortune thy person shall meet; "Into paint will I grind thee, my bride!"
Then, seizing the maid by her dark auburn hair,
Seven days, seven nights, with the shrieks of despair,
All cover'd with oil to the chin.
On the morn of the eighth on a huge sable stone
Then Ellen, all reeking, he laid;
With a rock for his muller he crush'd
But, though ground to jelly, still, still did she groan; For life had forsook not the maid.
Now reaching his palette, with masterly care
Each tint on its surface he spread;
The blue of her eyes, and the brown of her hair, And the pearl and the white of her forehead so fair, And her lips' and her cheeks' rosy red.
Then, stamping his foot, did the monster exclaim,
Enthron'd in the midst of an emerald bright,
Her robe was a gleam of the first blush of light,
In an accent that stole on the still charmed air
Thus spake from her chariot the Fairy so fair;
""Tis true," said the monster, "thou queen of my heart,
Thy portrait I oft have essay'd;
"Yet ne'er to the canvas could I with my art "The least of thy wonderful beauties impart; "And my failure with scorn you repaid.
"Now I swear by the light of the Comet-King's tail!" And he tower'd with pride as he spoke, "If again with these magical colours I fail, "The crater of Etna shall hence be my jail, "And my food shall be sulphur and smoke.
"But if I succeed, then, oh, fair Geraldine!
Thy promise with justice 1 claim,
"And thou, queen of Fairies, shalt ever be mine,
He spake; when, behold, the fair Geraldine's form
His touches they flew like the leaves in a storm;
And now did the portrait a twin-sister seem
To the figure of Geraldine fair;
With the same sweet expression did faithfully teem Each muscle, each feature; in short not a gleam Was lost of her beautiful hair.
'Twas the Fairy herself! but, alas, her blue eyes
Still a pupil did ruefully lack;
And who shall describe the terrific surprise
That seiz'd the Paint-King, when, behold, he descries Not a speck on his palette of black!
"I am lost!" said the Fiend, and he shook like a leaf;
When, casting his eyes to the ground,
He saw the lost pupils of Ellen with grief
In the jaws of a mouse, and the sly little thief
"I am lost!" said the Fiend, and he fell like a stone; Then, rising, the Fairy in ire
With a touch of her finger she loosen'd her zone, (While the limbs on the wall gave a terrible groan,) And she swelled to a column of fire.
Her spear now a thunder-bolt flash'd in the air,
She smote the grim monster; and now by the hair
Then over the picture thrice waving her spear,
When, behold, from the canvas descending appear