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Nor peace nor ease the heart can know,
Which, like the needle true,
Turns at the touch of joy or woe,
Far, as distress the soul can wound,
Beyond, is agony.
Take then this treacherous sense of mine,
Oh, haste to shed the sacred balm!
At her approach, see Hope, see Fear,
And Disappointment in the rear,
The tear which Pity taught to flow,
The heart that melts for others woe
Shall then scarce feel its own.
The wounds which now each moment bleed,
Each moment then shall close,
And tranquil days shall still succeed
To nights of calm repose.
O fairy elf! but grant me this,
So may the glow-worm's glimmering light
To some new region of delight,
And be thy acorn goblet fill'd
With heaven's ambrosial dew,
And what of life remains for me
I'll pass in sober ease;
THE FAIRY'S ANSWER.
BY THE MARGRAVINE OF ANSPACH.
WITHOUT preamble, to my friend
I dare not hesitate to say-
Last night's adventure is my theme;
Must make you own the matter such,
To be compos'd in sport.
Fair Luna shone serenely bright,
Enwrapt in solemn thoughts I sate,
Yet void of hope or fear;
When lo! behold an airy throng,
With lightest steps, and jocund song,
Surpris'd my eye and ear.
A form superior to the rest
His little voice to me addrest,
And gently thus began:
"I've heard strange things from one of you, Pray, tell me if you think 'tis true; Explain it if you can.
"Such incense has perfum'd my throne,
I know her wit and beauty too,
But why she sends a pray'r so new
I cannot understand.
To light some flames, and some revive,
To keep some others just alive,
Full oft I am implor'd:
But, with peculiar power to please,
To supplicate for nought but ease,—
'Tis odd upon my word!
"Tell her, with fruitless care I've sought,
And though my realms with wonder fraught,
In remedies abound,
No grain of cold indifference
Was ever yet ally'd to sense,
In all my fairy round.
"The regions of the sky I'd trace, I'd ransack every earthly place,
Each leaf, each herb, each flower, To mitigate the pangs of Fear, Dispel the clouds of black Despair, Or lull the restless hour.
"I would be generous as I'm just,
Those laws which Fate has made:
"Twould put your mind into a rage, And such unequal war to wage Suits not my regal duty!
I dare not change a first decree,
She's doom'd to please, nor can be free
Such is the lot of beauty!"
This said, he darted o'er the plain,
And after follow'd all his train;
No glimpse of him I find:
But sure I am, the little sprite
These words, before he took his flight,
Imprinted on my mind.