And yet each vow and true-love plight
Still filled his soul with fond delight;
And fancy's self in visions rare
Gave glimpses of a form fair,
T'was thus he felt not how they parted
The fairy elve, till Pooka darted
Along a gloomy dark ravine,
Where Solar beams might never shine.
And in this gloomy dark abyss
Did roaring loud a torrent hiss,
And tumble rumbling over rocks,
With crashes and appalling shocks.
A mocking echo swept its side
When in its seething, boiling tide
Poor Con was plunged in elfin play,
As Pooka vanished in the spray.
His spell-bound trouble past and o'er
He s trove to climb the rock-built shore
Anon he grasped and nimbly caught
Each rock projecting over aught,
And scaled the briar-entangled steep
That beetled o'er the torrent deep.
His drowsy eyelids sought repose,
And soon he fell into a doze,
And soundly slept fatigue away,
Till waking up at noon next day
When "wide awake" a wondering man