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For thee a handred fields produc'd their store,
And by thy name ten thousand vaffals swore ;
So lov'd thy name, that, at their monarch's choice,
All Fairy shouted with a gen’ral voice.

Oriel alone a secret rage suppress’d,
That from his bosom heav'd the golden vest.
Along the banks of Thame his empire ran,
Wide was his range, and populous his clan.
When cleanly servants, if we trust old tales,
Besides their wages had good fairy vails,
Whole heaps of filver tokens, nightly paid
The careful wife or the neat dairy-maid,
Sunk not his stores. With smiles and powerful bribes
He gain'd the leaders of his neighbour tribes,
And ere the night the face of heav'n had chang'd,
Beneath his banners half the fairies rang'd.

Mean-while driven back to earth, a lonely way
The chearless Albion wander'd half the day,
A long, long journey, choak'd with brakes and thorns,
Ill-measur'd by ten thoufand barley-corns.
Tir'd out at length, a spreading stream he fpy'd
Fed by old Thame, a daughter of the tide :
'Twas then a spreading stream, though now its fame
Obfcur'd, it bears the creek's inglorious name,
And creeps, as through contracted bounds it ftrays,
A leap for boys in thefe degenerate days.

On the clear crystal's verdant bank he stood,
And thrice look'd backward on the fatal wood,


And thrice he groan'd, and thrice he beat his breaft, And thus in tears his kindred gods address’d.

If true, ye watery powers, my lineage came "From Neptune mingling with a mortal dame; • Down to his court; with coral garlands crown'd, · Through all your groftoes waft my plaintive found, And

urge the god, whose trident shakes the earth, * To grace his off-spring, and affert my birth.'

He said. A gentle Naiad heard his prayer,
And, touch'd with pity for a lover's care,
Shoots to the sea, where low beneath the tides
Old Neptune in th' unfathom'd depth refides.
Rous'd at the news the fea's ftern sultan swore
Revenge, and scarce from prefent arms forbore ;
But first the nymph his harbinger he fends,
And to her care his fav’rite boy commends.

As through the Thames her backward coarse she guides, Driven


his current by the refluent tides, Along his banks the pygmy legions spread She spies, and haughty Oriel at their head. Soon with wrongd Albion's name the host the fires, And counts the ocean's god among

his fires

; The ocean's god, by whom shall be o'erthrown ' (Styx hear'd his oath) the tyrant Oberon.

See here beneath a toadstool's deadly gloom · Lies Albion : Him the Fates your leader doom. • Hear and obey ; 'tis Neptune's powerful call, . By him Azuriel and his king shall fall.' D 2


She said. They bow'd: and on their shield up-bore
With shouts their new-faluted emperor.
Even Oriel smil'd : at least to smile he strove,
And hopes of vengeance triumph'd over love.

See now the mourner of the lonely shade
By gods protected, and by hosts obey'd,
A slave, a chief, by fickle Fortune's play,
In the short course of one revolving day.
What wonder if the youth, so strangely bleft,
Felt his heart flutter in his little breaft!
His thick-embatteld troops, with secret pride,
He views extended half an acre wide;
More light he treads, more tall he seems to rife,
And struts a straw-breadth nearer to the skies.

O for thy Muse, * great Bard, whose lofty ftrains
In battle join'd the Pygmies and the Cranes !
Each gaudy knight, had I that warmth divine,
Each colour'd legion in my verse should shine.
But simple I, and innocent of art,
The tale, that sooth'd my infant years, impart,
The tale I heard whole winter eves, untir'd,
And sing the battles, that my nurse inspir'd.

Now the shrill corn-pipes, echoing loud to arms,
To rank and file reduce the ftraggling swarms.
Thick rows of spears at once, with sudden glare,
A grove of needles, glitter in the air ;

* Mr. Addison,

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Loose in the wind small ribbon streamers flow,
Dipt in all colours of the heav'nly bow,
And the gay hoft, that now its march pursues,
Gleams o'er the meadows in a thoufand hues.

On Buda’s plains thus formidably bright,
Shone Afia's fons, a pleasing dreadful fight.
In various robes their filken troops were seen,
The blue, the red, and prophet's sacred green:
When blooming Brunswick near the Danube's flood,
First stained his maiden sword in Turkish blood.

Unseen and filent march the flow brigades
Through pathless wilds, and unfrequented shades.
In hopes already vanquifh'd by surprize,
In Albion's power the fairy empire lies ;
Already has he seiz'd on Kenna's charms,
And the glad beauty trembles in his arms.

The march concludes; and now in prospect near,
But fenc'd with arms, the hostile towers appear,
For Oberon, or Druids falsely fing,
Wore his prime vifir in a magick ring.
A subtle spright, that opening plots foretold
By sudden dimness on the beamy gold.
Hence in a crescent form’d, his legions bright
With beating bosoms waited for the fight ;
To charge their foes they march, a glitt'ring band,
And in their van doth bold Azuriel stand.

What rage that hour did Albion's foul poffefs, Let chiefs imagine, and let lovers guess!


D 3

Forth iffuing from his ranks, that strove in vain
To check his course, athwart the dreadful plain
He strides indignant: and with haughty cries
To fingle fight the fairy prince defies.

Forbear, rash youth, th' unequal war to try;
Nor, sprung from mortals, with iminortals vic;
No god stands ready to avert thy doom,
Nor yet thy grandfire of the waves is come,
My words are vain--no words the wretch can' move,
By beauty dazled, and betwich'd by love:
He longs, he burns to win the glorious prize,
And fees no danger, while he sees her eyes.

Now from each host the eager warriors start,
And furious Albion Aings his hafty dart :
'Twas feather'd from the bee's transparent wing,
And its shaft ended in a hornet's fing ;
But, tofs'd in rage, it flew without a wound,
High o'er the foe, and guiltless pierc'd the ground,
Not so Azuriel's : with un-erring aim
Too near the needle-pointed jav'lin came,
Drove through the seven-fold fhield, and filken vest,
And lightly rąs'd the lover's ivory brcaft.
Rous'd at the smart, and rising to the blow,
With his keen fword he cleaves his fairy foe,
Sheer from the shoulder to the waist he cleaves,
And of one arm the tott'ring trunk bereaves.

His useless steel brave Albion wields no more,
Put Aternly smiles, and thinks the combat o'er:


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