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"Thou shalt seek the beach of sand Where the water bounds the elfin land; Thou shalt watch the oozy brine Till the sturgeon leaps in the bright moonshine, Then dart the glistening arch below, And catch a drop from his silver bow; The water-sprites will wield their arms, And dash around, with roar and rave, And vain are the woodland spirit's charms, They are the imps that rule the wave.
To the cabin in the fir-grove came all the quaint, weird spirits, the fairies, the elves, the trolls, the pixies, the fadas, the crions, the goblins, the kobolds, the moss-people, the gnomes, the dwarfs, the water-sprites, the courils, the bogles, the brownies, the nixies, the trows, the stille-volk, all came to the cabin in the fir-grove, and capered about and sang the strange, beautiful songs of the Mist-Land.
The birds told the helmsman, the wise Lapp, that the lad had made friends with the water-sprites beyond the snow mountains and would never return. The winds drove the ship about for many days till she grounded again on a strange shore. Another party of nobles and sailors went to search this country. Being tired, they lay down under an ash tree and fell asleep.
These gnomes led, for the most part, rather dull lives. Like their cousins, the water-sprites, or undines, they were roguish and shrewd, but had no higher views of life than our katydids and crickets. Indeed, they hardly cared for any thing but frisking about, eating and sleeping. But, after all, what can be expected of creatures without souls?
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