THE FAIRY’S SEARCH. 
23 
“ And join the angel-hand !” 
The Fay 
Thus said, then sadly turn’d away 
And, with a drooping heart and wing, 
Resum’d again her w andering. 
And now she seeks a home of sin 
Which veileth mournful scenes within, 
Like stream whose sunlit surface hides 
The gloom that in its depth abides. 
There, in that dwelling’s fatal Avails, 
Virtue a martyr’d victim falls ; 
There Hope, “ the Heaven-born charmer” dies 
And peace, with trembling pinion, flies 
Far from the gloomy scene. 
The Fairy pass’d the threshold’s bound 
And gaz’d with timid wonder round ; 
Soft came the shaded beams of day 
Through casements drap’d in fabrics gay ; 
This flood of rosy-tinted light 
Fell over many an object bright, 
And, like the glow of sun-set skies, 
Bestow’d on all its own rich dies. 
There Avere the Sculptor’s forms of grace, 
In wdiose fair shapes the eye might trace 
The cunning of a master hand, 
The power that genius’ sons command ; 
And pictures whose rich colouring wore 
The light, the life that beameth o’er 
A living landscape—forms so fair, 
Features of loveliness so rare, 
And eyes that all so life-like beam’d, 
Shone from the canvass, that it seem d 
