I.

Far in the western ocean’s breast The summer fairies have found a nest; The heavens ever unclouded smile Over the breadth of their beautiful isle; Through it a hundred streamlets flow, In spangled paths, to the sea below, And woo the vales that beside them lie With a low and tremulous minstrelsy. The elfin brood have homes they love In the earth below and skies above; But the haunt which of all they love the best Is the palm-crowned isle, in the ocean’s breast, That mortals call Canary; And many an Ariel, blithesome, airy, And each laughing fay and lithesome fairy, Know well the mystical way in the West To the sweet isle of Canary.