Fair Tempe's groves 'neath Grecian skies
With shout and song re-echo still;
And dancing nymphs and fauns surprise
By rocky grot and foaming rill;
While Pan's illusive pipings fill
The leafy lanes-jocund appear
His whole bright frolic crew at will-
To such as have the vision clear.
Birthplace of chivalrous emprise,
Fair France, thy war-scarred terrain still Is quaintly thronged to seeing eyes; And such may yet descry at will Some Roland richly armed fulfil
His devoir or some Chandos, dear
To story, hold the lists with skill-
If one but have the vision clear.
To mortals blest with seeing eyes,
The fairies walk in Arden still;
The magic light of Elfland lies
On grassy glades, on dale and hill;
While Philomel's sweet love-notes fill
The leafy bowers where gay appear
Titania's court in costume chill-
To such as have the vision clear.
Far out beneath these Western skies,
We, too, may conjure up at will,
These sylph-like forms-perchance surprise
Some naiad mirrored in the rill;
Or through the pine-trees, sweet but shrill
Pan's plaintive pipes enchanted hear-
E'en fairies dance and roundels trill-
For such as have the vision clear.
Reader, herein a truth there lies
That will to you, at once, appear; For you are blest with seeing eyes
We know you have the vision clear.