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6 Listen, where thou art sitting,
My ink is mix'd with tears of deep vexation
To know what Mr. Courtenay has decreed; That here no more our King shall fill his station,
That Club and Punchbowl all to fate must cede ! What! can't we have another Coronation
In the Fusticular Kingdom? I, indeed, Have half a mind—but ah ! 'tis much too late For this same Crown to be a candidate...
Ah! Gerard ! Gerard ! what wouldst thou be doing ?
(Quoth my astonishid Muse) is this thine high Commiseration of the cares pursuing
The unblest course of wretched Royalty ?
Of Royal spirits ?-was it all a lie ?
I'll not to be treated (trust me) in this sort ;
In the unhealthy climate of a court?
Pray have the voters promis'd you support?
An't you, this moment, wheezing like a kettle?
And, though you scarce can fetch your breath, to settle Affairs of State !-'twould be a pretty thing
I thought you'd been a man of different metal. Reign if you will—but when by me forsaken, You'll find that you're confoundedly mistaken.
In earnest to petition for the throne;
With thy uncertain humours , but I own "Tis a sad bore to have thy fancies pent
Within my brain-wall joys of printing flown-
To lend thine inspiration, dearest Muse;
For, if you don't assist me, I shall lose
And not a single reader will peruse
To the fair Sprite ambao gives my Tale a name;
For special purposes, 'twould be a shame,
So forth she steps, this visionary dame,
And was akin to Oberon, 'tis said;
But never yet bad been induc'd to wed, Though she was woo'd by half the Elfin nation
But still a free and roving life she sled;
The palace where the Prince was now confind, Which sery'd this lovely Fairy for a dwelling,
A spot just suited to a Fairy's mind;
Love with his own fair face, and pin'd, and pin'd
Beneath this fountain's fresh and bubbling, water,
Unfathomably deep, the livelong day,
In unimaginable visions lay,
But o'er her head did the wild waters play,
Beings that toam through Ocean, Earthy or Sky;
Of the vast Eden of Eternity
Angelic thoughts, each heavenly phantasy,
Breath'd of her presence ; every leaf was hung
A fine and supernatural fragrance fung On the glad sense; and thither did repair.
Garlanded maids, and lovers fond and young;
Fell thickest, and the Sun's meridian light
The crystal chamber of the sleeping Sprite.
The Eastern skies, and the sweet dews of Night
Where'er her fancy led her, and would stray
Through many a populous city; and survey The chambers of the sleeping ; oft she euri'd
The locks of young chastè maidens, as they lay, And lit new lustre in their sleeping eyes, And breath'd upon their cheeks the bloom of Paradise.
And she would scatter o'er the Poet's brain
(As he lay smiling through swift-springing tears) A strange and unintelligible train
Of fancies, and ring loud into his ears
Of music, or combine the joy of years
The bachelor's room, and spoil his lonely rest;
Or rattle loudly at the miser's chest,
Her vengeance on stern fathers who repress'd Their children's young and innocent loves, and sold (Like our two Kings) their happiness for gold.
. On earth, nor half the clamour, and the fuss
No Sprite was ever half so mischievous.
Into the Prince's chamber--(prying Puss!
For he was dreaming of that vision bright;
Of silent but most passionate delight,
On some imagined form—he was a sight
That veil'd his eyes' dark azure, and espy,
Wandering beneath its fringed canopy.
Was but one instant on his breast to lie, And kiss the lips which tremulously mov'd :: As if to meet the lips of her he lov’d. '.
XX. Hark! a dull sound swings through the troubled air !
She hears the flapping of unholy wingsAwhile she listens mute with finger fair
Rais'd to her delicate lips; then swiftly springs Into the infinite sky-what meets she there?
Ha! a bad Spirit in its wanderings
Through the spell-troubled atmosphere,—and soon You might behold those hostile Spirits meet
Within the circle of the full-orb'd moon.
To him was hopeless—so he crav’d a boon,
“ Kind Sir Rebellious, courteous terms are these : But mine must first be thought on-Spirit proud,
Now whether thy sweet Spritehood doth it please, That I should dash thee from thy murky cloud
Into yon deep uncomfortable seas;
Ten thousand years fast fetter'd to the Pole? Or, to the centre of the deep earth tost,
There tumble, free from Gravity's control, In many an antic gambol?to thy cost
Curs'd Spirit thou hast dar'd me-for a soul More dark than thou, more mischievously wicked, Roams not the earth- at least with such a thick head.
XXIV. “ I've some old scores to pay you off, Sir, now:
Didn't I see you tap Tom Goddard's ale ? Didn't you pull down Pocock's barley-mow ?
Didn't you nick the Parson's pony's tail? Didn't you milk John Squizzle's spotted cow ?
And thump his Sister with the milking pail ? Didn't I see you through the keyhole creep, And give Miss Bab the fidgets in her sleep?