This is sure the haunt of fairies, In yon cool alcove they play; Care can never cross the threshold,Care was only made for day. Far from hence be noisy Clamour, Sick Disgust and anxious Fear; Pining Grief and wasting Anguish Never keep their vigils here. Tell no tales of sheeted spectres Fairer forms this cell shall visit, Brighter visions gild the gloom. Choral songs and sprightly voices Sweeter, sweeter than the murmur Of the distant waterfall. Every ruder gust of passion Lulled with music dies away, Till within the charmed bosom None but soft affections play: Soft as when the evening breezes Brighter than the smile of Summer, Sweeter than the breath of Love. Thee the' enchanted Muse shall follow, And each careless note repeating, Not the maid who crowned with cypress Sweeps along in sceptred pall, And in sad and solemn accents Mourns the crested hero's fall; But that other smiling sister, With the blue and laughing eye, Singing, in a lighter measure, Strains of woodland harmony: All unknown to fame and glory, Easy, blithe and debonair, Crowned with flowers, her careless tresses Loosely floating on the air, Then when next the star of evening Softly sheds the silent dew, Let me in this rustic temple, Lissy! meet the Muse and you. THE MOUSE'S PETITION*. O HEAR a pensive prisoner's prayer, For liberty that sighs; And never let thine heart be shut Against the wretch's cries! For here forlorn and sad I sit, Within the wiry grate; And tremble at the' approaching morn, Which brings impending fate. * Found in the trap where he had been confined all night by Dr. Priestley, for the sake of making experiments with different kinds of air. D 2 If e'er thy breast with freedom glowed, And spurned a tyrant's chain, Let not thy strong oppressive force A free-born mouse detain! O do not stain with guiltless blood Thy hospitable hearth ! Nor triumph that thy wiles betrayed A prize so little worth. The scattered gleanings of a feast But if thine unrelenting heart That slender boon deny, The cheerful light, the vital air, |