LXVIII
Then Elfinan swift vaulted from the floor,
And lighted graceful on the window-sill;
Under one arm the magic book he bore,
The other he could wave about at will;
Pale was his face, he still look’d very ill:
He bow’d at Bellanaine, and said—“Poor Bell!
Farewell! farewell! and if for ever! still
For ever fare thee well!”—and then he fell
A laughing!—snapp’d his fingers!—shame it is to tell!