THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. ^3 



A motley crowd, a mingled throng 

 Moves slowly by, or sweeps along 

 Like clouds when wild-winds blow. 

 Misfortune's child, with pallid face. 

 And wasted form and weary pace. 

 Moves on beside the rich and great. 

 Whose happier brows and haughtier state 

 In mournful contrast shine. 

 Old age with furrow'd brow, and eye 

 Dim with the shadowy mist of Time ; 

 Youth, radiant as the cloudless sky 

 Of Sumn^.er in its prime ; 

 And sportive childhood, fresh and gay 

 As blossoms in the morning's beam, 

 All mingle in that crowded way 

 Like beiugs of a dream. 



Long gaz'd the Fay, with wondering eye. 

 And half forgot the flowers she souglit 

 'Til a soft breeze that wander'd by 

 Their well known perfume brought : 

 And now she sees a radiant throng 

 Of youths and maidens sweep along. 

 Their forms are deck'd in raiment bright ; 

 Their brows are beaming with delight ; 

 Their footsteps move to joyous measure ; 

 Their hearts are tuned to notes of pleasure--- 

 So gay their smiles, so pure their mirth, 

 They seem not children of the Earth, 

 But brighter, happier spirits, come 

 From some far-off, celestial home. 

 Some realm where mpture reigns supreme 

 And life i.-; all one blissful dream, 



