In midnight dreams the Wizard came,

And beckoned me away—

With tempting hopes of wealth and fame,

He cheered my lonely way.

He led me o'er a dusky heath,

And there a river swept,

Whose gay and glassy tide beneath,

Uncounted treasure, slept.

The wooing ripples lightly dashed

Around the cherished store,

And circling eddies brightly flashed

Above the yellow ore.

I bent me o'er the deep smooth stream,

And plunged the gold to get,—

But oh! it vanished with my dream—

And I got dripping wet!

O'er lonely heath and darksome hill,

As shivering home I went,

The mocking Wizard whispered shrill,

'Thou'dst better been content!'