A

FAIRY TALE

IN THE

Antient ENGLISH Stile.

N Britain's ifle and Arthur's days,

IN

When midnight Fairies daunc'd the maze,

Liv'd Edwin of the green;

Edwin, I wis, a gentle youth,

Endow'd with courage, fenfe, and truth,.
Tho' badly fhap'd he been.

His mountain back mote well be faid,

To measure height against his head,

And lift itself above;

Yet spite of all that nature did

To make his uncouth form forbid,

This creature dar'd to love.

He

He felt the charms of Edith's eyes,

Nor wanted hope to gain the prize,

Cou'd ladies look within;

But one Sir Topaz drefs'd with art,
And, if a shape cou'd win a heart,
He had a fhape to win.

Edwin, if right I read my fong,
With flighted paffion pac'd along

All in the moony light;

'Twas near an old inchanted court,

Where sportive fairies made refort

To revel out the night.

His heart was drear, his hope was crofs'd, 'Twas late, 'twas far, the path was loft

That reach'd the neighbour-town ;

With weary fteps he quits the fhades,
Refolv'd, the darkling dome he treads,

And drops his limbs adown.

But

But fcant he lays him on the floor,
When hollow winds remove the door,
A trembling, rocks the ground:
And, well I ween to count aright,
At once an hundred tapers light

On all the walls around.

Now founding tongues affail his ear,
Now founding feet approachen near,
And now the founds increase:
And from the corner where he lay
He fees a train profufely gay

Come prankling o'er the place.

But (truft me Gentles!) never yet
Was dight a masquing half so neat,

Or half fo rich before;

The country lent the fweet perfumes,

The fea, the pearl, the fky, the plumes,

The town its filken ftore.

Now

Now whilst he gaz'd, a Gallant dreft
In flaunting robes above the rest,

With awful accent cry'd ;

What mortal of a wretched mind,

Whose fighs infect the balmy wind,
Has here prefum'd to hide?

At this the fwain, whose vent❜rous foul
No fears of magic art controul,

Advanc'd in open fight;

"Nor have I caufe of dreed, he faid, "Who view by no prefumption led "Your revels of the night.

" 'Twas grief, for fcorn of faithful love, "Which made my fteps unweeting rove "Amid the nightly dew."

'Tis well the Gallant cries again,

We fairies never injure men

Who dare to tell us true.

Exalt thy love-dejected heart,

Be mine the task, or ere we part,

To make thee grief refign;

Now take the pleasure of thy chaunce;
Whilft I with Mab, my part'ner, daunce,
Be little Mable thine,

He spoke, and all a fudden there
Light mufic floats in wanton air;

The Monarch leads the Queen:
The reft their fairie part'ners found:
And Mable trimly tript the ground
With Edwin of the green.

The dauncing paft, the board was laid,
And fiker fuch a feaft was made

As heart and lip defire,

Withouten hands the dishes fly,

The glaffes with a wish come nigh,

And with a wish retire.

But