I ask no kind return of love,

No tempting charm to please;
Far from the heart those gifts remove,
That sigh for peace and ease.

Nor ease, nor peace, that heart can know

That, like the needle true, Turns at the touch of joy or wo, But, turning, trembles too.

Far as distress the soul can wound, "Tis pain in each degree;

'Tis bliss but to a certain bound;

Beyond, is agony.

Then take this treacherous sense of mine,
Which dooms me still to smart,
Which pleasure can to pain refine,
To pain new pangs impart.

Oh! haste to shed the sacred balm,
My shatter'd nerves new-string;
And for my guest, serenely calm,
Thy nymph, Indifference, bring.

At her approach, see Hope, see Fear,
See Expectation fly;

And Disappointment in the rear,
That blasts the purpos'd joy.

The tears which Pity taught to flow,
My eyes shall then disown;

The heart that throb'd at others' wo,
Shall then scarce feel its own.

The wounds which now each moment bleed,
Each moment then shall close;
And tranquil days shall still succeed
To nights of sweet repose.

O fairy elf! but grant me this,

This one kind comfort send; And so may never-fading bliss Thy flow'ry paths attend.

So may the glow-worm's glimmering light
Thy tiny footsteps lead

To some new region of delight,
Unknown to mortal tread.

And be thy acorn goblet fill'd

With heaven's ambrosial dew,

From sweetest, freshest flowers distill'd,
That shed fresh sweets for you.

And what of life remains for me,
I'll pass in sober ease;
Half-pleas'd, contented will I be ;
Content but half to please.

THE FAIRY'S ANSWER,

TO MRS. GREVILLE.

[COUNTESS OF C]

WITHOUT preamble, to my friend,

These hasty lines. I'm bid to send,
Or give, if I am able;

I dare not hesitate to say,

Tho' I have trembled all the day-
It looks so like a fable.

Last night's adventure is my theme, And should it strike you as a dream, Yet soon its high import

Must make you own the matter such, So delicate, it were too much

To be compos'd in sport.

The moon did shine serenely bright,
And every star did deck the night,

While Zephyr fan'd the trees,
No more assail'd my mind's repose,

Save, that yon stream, which murmuring flows, Did echo to the breeze.

Enwrapt in solemn thoughts, I sate,
Revolving o'er the turns of fate,

Yet void of hope or fear;
When lo! behold an aëry throng,

With lightest steps, and jocund song,
Surpris'd my eye and ear.

A form, superior to the rest,

His little voice to me addrest,

And gently thus began,

'I've heard strange things from one of you,

Pray tell me if you think 'tis true,

'Such incense has perfum'd my throne!
Such eloquence my heart has won!
'I think I guess the hand;

I know her wit and beauty too,

But why she sends a prayer so new, 'I cannot understand.

To light some flames, and some revive,
To keep some others just alive.

• Full oft I am implor'd;

'But, with peculiar power to please, To supplicate for nought but ease— 'Tis odd, upon my word!

Tell her, with fruitless care I've sought,

' And tho' my realms, with wonder fraught,

In remedies abound,

'No grain of cold Indifference 'Was ever yet allied to Sense,

In all my fairy round.

The regions of the sky I'd trace,
I'd ransack every earthly place,

Each leaf, each herb, each flower,

To mitigate the pangs of Fear, 'Dispel the clouds of black Despair, 'Or lull the restless hour.

'I would be generous as I'm just,

But I obey, as others must,

Those laws which fate has made.

My tiny kingdom how defend,

And what might be the horrid end

'Should man my state invade?