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CIV.

“Or take him by that sole and grizzled tuft,
That hangs upon his bald and barren crown;
And we will sing to see him so rebuff’d,
And lend our little mights to pull him down,
And make brave sport of his malicious frown,
For all his boastful mockery o’er men.
For thou wast born, I know, for this renown,
By my most magical and inward ken,
That readeth ev’n at Fate’s forestalling pen.”

CV.

“Nay, by the golden lustre of thine eye,
And by thy brow’s most fair and ample span,
Thought’s glorious palace, framed for fancies high,
And by thy cheek thus passionately wan,
I know the signs of an immortal man,–
Nature’s chief darling, and illustrious mate,
Destined to foil old Death’s oblivious plan,
And shine untarnish’d by the fogs of Fate,
Time’s famous rival till the final date!”

CVI.

“O shield us then from this usurping Time,
And we will visit thee in moonlight dreams;
And teach thee tunes, to wed unto thy rhyme,
And dance about thee in all midnight gleams,
Giving thee glimpses of our magic schemes,
Such as no mortal’s eye hath ever seen;
And, for thy love to us in our extremes,
Will ever keep thy chaplet fresh and green,
Such as no poet’s wreath hath ever been!”

CVII.

“And we’ll distil thee aromatic dews,
To charm thy sense, when there shall be no flow’rs;
And flavor’d syrups in thy drinks infuse,
And teach the nightingale to haunt thy bow’rs,
And with our games divert thy weariest hours,
With all that elfin wits can e’er devise.
And, this churl dead, there’ll be no hasting hours
To rob thee of thy joys, as now joy flies”:–
Here she was stopp’d by Saturn’s furious cries.

CVIII.

Whom, therefore, the kind Shade rebukes anew,
Saying, “Thou haggard Sin, go forth, and scoop
Thy hollow coffin in some churchyard yew,
Or make th’ autumnal flow’rs turn pale, and droop;
Or fell the bearded corn, till gleaners stoop
Under fat sheaves,–or blast the piny grove;–
But here thou shall not harm this pretty group,
Whose lives are not so frail and feebly wove,
But leased on Nature’s loveliness and love.”

CIX.

“‘Tis these that free the small entangled fly,
Caught in the venom’d spider’s crafty snare;–
These be the petty surgeons that apply
The healing balsams to the wounded hare,
Bedded in bloody fern, no creature’s care!–
These be providers for the orphan brood,
Whose tender mother hath been slain in air,
Quitting with gaping bill her darling’s food,
Hard by the verge of her domestic wood.”

CX.

“‘Tis these befriend the timid trembling stag,
When, with a bursting heart beset with fears,
He feels his saving speed begin to flag;
For then they quench the fatal taint with tears,
And prompt fresh shifts in his alarum’d ears,
So piteously they view all bloody morts;
Or if the gunner, with his arms, appears,
Like noisy pyes and jays, with harsh reports,
They warn the wild fowl of his deadly sports.”

CXI.

“For these are kindly ministers of nature,
To soothe all covert hurts and dumb distress;
Pretty they be, and very small of stature,–
For mercy still consorts with littleness;–
Wherefore the sum of good is still the less,
And mischief grossest in this world of wrong;–
So do these charitable dwarfs redress
The tenfold ravages of giants strong,
To whom great malice and great might belong.”

CXII.

“Likewise to them are Poets much beholden
For secret favors in the midnight glooms;
Brave Spenser quaff’d out of their goblets golden,
And saw their tables spread of prompt mushrooms,
And heard their horns of honeysuckle blooms
Sounding upon the air most soothing soft,
Like humming bees busy about the brooms,–
And glanced this fair queen’s witchery full oft,
And in her magic wain soar’d far aloft.”