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F A I R Y T A L E.

By Dr. PAR N E L L.

I

N Britain's isle and Arthur's days,
When midnight Fairies daunc'd the maze,
Liv'd Edwin of the

green ;
Edwin, I wis, a gentle youth,
Endow'd with courage, sense, and truth,

Tho' badly shap'd he been.

His mountain back mote well be said
To measure height against his head,

And lift itself above;
Yet spite of all that nature did
To make his uncouth form forbid,

This creature dar'd to love.

He felt the charms of Edith's eyes,
Nor wanted hope to gain the prize,

Cou'd ladies look within ;
But one Sir Topaz dress'd with art,
And, if a shape cou'd win a heart,

He had a shape to win.

Edwin, if right I read my song,
With slighted passion pac'd along

All in the moony light ;
"Twas near an old enchanted court,
Where sportive fairies made resort

To revel out the night.

His heart was drear, his hope was cross’d, 'Twas late, 'twas far, the path was lost

That reach'd the neighbour-town; With weary steps he quits the shades, Resolv'd, the darkling dome he treads,

And drops his limbs adown.

But scant he lays him on the floor,
When hollow winds remove the door,

A trembling, rocks the ground:
And, well I ween to count aright,
At once an hundred tapers light

On all the walls around.

Now founding tongues affail his ear,
Now founding feet approachen near,

And now the sounds increase :
And from the corner where he lay
He sees a train profusely gay

Come prankling o'er the place.

But

But (trust me Gentles !) never yet
Was dight a masquing half so neat,

Or half so rich before :
The country lent the sweet perfumes,
The sea the pearl, the sky the plumes,

The town its filken store.

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Now whilft he gaz'd, a gallant drest,
In flaunting robes above the rest,

With awful accent cry'd ;
What mortal of a wretched mind,
Whose fighs infect the balmy wind,

Has here presum'd to hide ?

At this the fwain, whose vent'rous foul
No fears of magic art controul,

Advanc'd in open fight;
“ Nor have I cause of dreed, he said,
“ Who view by no presumption led

“ Your revels of the night.

“ 'Twas grief, for scorn of faithful love, “ Which made my steps unweeting rove,

“ Amid the nightly dew." "Tis well the gallant cries again, We fairies never injure men

Who dare to tell us true.

Exalt thy love-dejected heart,
Be mine the task, or ere we part,

To make thee grief resign ;
Now take the pleasure of thy chaunce ;
Whilft I with Mab, my part'ner, daunce,

Be little Mable thine.

He spoke, and all a sudden there
Light music floats in wanton air

;
The monarch leads the queen:
The rest their fairie part’ners found :
And Mable trimly tript the ground

With Edwin of the green.

The dauncing past, the board was laid,
And siker such a feast was made

As heart and lip desire,
Withouten hands the dishes fly,
The glasses with a wish come nigh,

And with a with retire.

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But now to please the fairie king,
Full ev'ry deal they laugh and fing,

And antic feats devise ;
Some wind and tumble like an ape,
And other-some transmute their shape

In Edwin's wond'ring eyes.

'Till one at last that Robin hight,
Renown'd for pinching maids by night,

Has hent him up aloof;
And full against the beam he flung,
Where by the back the youth he hung

To spraul unneath the roof.

From thence, “ Reverse my charm, he cries, And let it fairly now fuffice

The gambol has been shown.” But Oberon answers with a smile, Content thee Edwin for a while,

The vantage is thine own.

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Here ended all the phantom-play ;
They smelt the fresh approach of day,

And heard a cock to crow;
The whirling wind that bore the crowd
Has clap'd the door, and whistled loud,

To warn them all to go.

Then screaming all at once they fly,
And all at once the tapers dye ;

Poor Edwin falls to floor ;
Forlorn his state, and dark the place,
Was never wight in such a case

Thro' all the land before.

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But

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