There haply by the ruddy damsel seen,
Or shepherd-boy, they featly foot the green,
While from their steps a circling verdure springs;
But fly from towns, and dread the courts of kings.
Mean-while sad Kenna loth to quit the grove,
Hung o'er the body of her breathless love,
Try'd every art (vain arts!) to change his doom,
And vow'd (vain vows!) to join him in the tomb.
What could she do? the Fates alike deny
The dead to live, or fairy forms to die.
An herb there grows (the same old Homer tells
Ulysses bore to rival Circes spells) :*
Its root is ebon-black, but sends to light,
A stem that bends with flowerets milky white,
Holy the plant, which gods and fairies know,
But secret kept from mortal men below.
On his pale limbs its virtuous juice she shed,
And murmur'd mystic numbers o'er the dead,
When lo! the little shape by magic power
Grew less and less, contracted to a flower,
A flower, that first in this sweet garden smiled,
To virgins sacred, and the snow-drop stiled.
The new-born plant with sweet regret she view'd,
Warm'd with her sighs, and with her tears be
Its ripen'd seeds from bank to bank convey'd,
And with her lover whiten'd half the shade.
Thus won from death each spring she sees him grow
And glories in the vegetable snow,
Which now increased through wide Britannias
Its parents warmth and spotless name retains;
First leader of the flowery race aspires,
And foremost catches the suns genial fires,
'Mid frosts and snows triumphant dares appear,
Mingles the seasons, and leads on the year.
Deserted now of all the pygmy race,
Nor man nor fairy touch'd this guilty place.
In heaps on heaps, for many a rolling age,
It lay accursed the mark of Neptunes rage;
'Till great Nassau recloth'd the desert shade
Thence sacred to Britannias monarchs made.
'Twas then the green-robed nymph, fair Kenna,
(Kenna that gave the neighbouring town its
Proud when she saw th' ennobled garden shine
With nymphs and heros of her lovers line.
She vow'd to grace the mansions once her own,
And picture out in plants the fairy town.
To far-famed Wise her flight unseen she sped,
And with gay prospects fill'd the craftsmans head,
Soft in his fancy drew a pleasing scheme,
And plann'd that landskip in a morning dream.
With the sweet view the sire of gardens fired,
Attempts the labour by the nymph inspired,
The walls and streets in rows of yew designs,
And forms the town in all its ancient lines;
The corner trees he lifts more high in air,
And girds the palace with a verdant square.
With a sad pleasure the aërial maid
This image of her ancient realm survey'd ;
How changed, how fall'n from its primæval pride!
Yet here each moon, the hour her lover died,
Each moon his solemn obsequies she pays,
And leads the dance beneath pale Cynthias rays;
Pleased in these shades to head her fairy train,
And grace the groves where Albions kinsmen
You spotted snakes, with double tongue, Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen; Newts, and blind-worms, do no wrong, Come not near our fairy queen.
Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby;
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby.
Weaving spiders come not here,
Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence:
Beetles black, approach not near;
Worm, nor snail, do no offence.
Philomel, with melody, &c.
Lo! here, beneath this hallow'd shade,
Within a cowslips blossom deep,
The lovely queen of elves is laid,
May nought disturb her balmy sleep!
Let not the snake, or baleful toad,
Approach the silent mansion near,
Or newt profane the sweet abode,
Or owl repeat her orgies here!
No snail or worm shall hither come, With noxious filth her bow'r to stain;
Hence be the beetles sullen hum,
And spiders disembowel'd train!
The love-lorn nightingale alone
Shall through Titanias arbour stray, To soothe her sleep with melting moan, And lull her with his sweetest lay.
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