THE FAIRY’S SEARCH. 
11 
Called all her magic charms to birth 
And made a paradise of Earth. 
’Mid scene thus fair, the sportive Fay 
Forgot her treasures far away, 
And lingered late, and listened long 
To pleasure’s soft beguiling song, 
Until its witching cadence stole 
Like fascination o’er her soul. 
She woke as dreamers oft-times wake 
From some dear vision of delight, 
When morn’s intruding footsteps break 
The airy structures of the night; 
She woke from rapture’s thrilling charm 
To thoughts of care and fears of harm. 
With sad forebodings for her bower, 
Neglected since the twilight hour, 
She left the Fairies magic ring 
And, like a bird on tireless wing, 
Flew fast away—but morning’s eye 
Looked brightly o’er the eastern sky 
Ere she regain’d her home. Ah ! then, 
How sadly chang’d appear’d the scene ! 
How dark, how desolate and lone, 
Like some deserted garden bound 
Where Autumn winds, in mournful tone, 
Wail o’er the wither’d leaflets strown 
In saddest ruin round. 
Some daring hand had stripp’d the bower 
Of every beauteous bud and flower 
And borne them all away. 
Far off, amid the busy crowd 
Of a throng’d city, now they smil’d, 
