LXVII.

"Man even strives with Man, but we eschew The guilty feud, and all fierce strifes abhor; Nay, we are gentle as the sweet heaven's dew, Beside the red and horrid drops of war, Weeping the cruel hates men battle for, Which worldly bosoms nourish in our spite: For in the gentle breast we ne'er withdraw, But only when all love hath taken flight, And youth's warm gracious heart is hardened quite."

LXVIII.

"So are our gentle natures intertwined With sweet humanities, and closely knit In kindly sympathy with human kind.

Witness how we befriend, with elfin wit, All hopeless maids and lovers,--nor omit Magical succors unto hearts forlorn:-- We charm man's life, and do not perish it;-- So judge us by the helps we showed this morn, To one who held his wretched days in scorn."

LXIX.

"'Twas nigh sweet Amwell;--for the Queen had task'd Our skill to-day amidst the silver Lea, Whereon the noontide sun had not yet bask'd, Wherefore some patient man we thought to see, Planted in moss-grown rushes to the knee, Beside the cloudy margin cold and dim;-- Howbeit no patient fisherman was he That cast his sudden shadow from the brim, Making us leave our toils to gaze on him."

LXX.

"His face was ashy pale, and leaden care Had sunk the levell'd arches of his brow, Once bridges for his joyous thoughts to fare Over those melancholy springs and slow, That from his piteous eyes began to flow, And fell anon into the chilly stream; Which, as his mimick'd image show'd below, Wrinkled his face with many a needless seam, Making grief sadder in its own esteem."

LXXI.

"And lo! upon the air we saw him stretch His passionate arms; and, in a wayward strain, He 'gan to elegize that fellow wretch That with mute gestures answer'd him again, Saying, 'Poor slave, how long wilt thou remain Life's sad weak captive in a prison strong, Hoping with tears to rust away thy chain, In bitter servitude to worldly wrong?-- Thou wear'st that mortal livery too long!'"

LXXII.

"This, with more spleenful speeches and some tears, When he had spent upon the imaged wave, Speedily I convened my elfin peers Under the lily-cups, that we might save This woeful mortal from a wilful grave By shrewd diversions of his mind's regret, Seeing he was mere Melancholy's slave, That sank wherever a dark cloud he met, And straight was tangled in her secret net."

LXXIII.

"Therefore, as still he watch'd the water's flow, Daintily we transform'd, and with bright fins Came glancing through the gloom; some from below Rose like dim fancies when a dream begins, Snatching the light upon their purple skins; Then under the broad leaves made slow retire: One like a golden galley bravely wins Its radiant course,--another glows like fire,-- Making that wayward man our pranks admire."

LXXIV.

"And so he banish'd thought, and quite forgot All contemplation of that wretched face; And so we wiled him from that lonely spot Along the river's brink; till, by heaven's grace, He met a gentle haunter of the place, Full of sweet wisdom gather'd from the brooks, Who there discuss'd his melancholy case With wholesome texts learned from kind nature's books, Meanwhile he newly trimm'd his lines and hooks."

LXXV.

Herewith the Fairy ceased. Quoth Ariel now-- "Let me remember how I saved a man, Whose fatal noose was fastened on a bough, Intended to abridge his sad life's span; For haply I was by when he began His stern soliloquy in life dispraise, And overheard his melancholy plan, How he had made a vow to end his days, And therefore follow'd him in all his ways."

LXXVI.

"Through brake and tangled copse, for much he loathed All populous haunts, and roam'd in forests rude, To hide himself from man. But I had clothed My delicate limbs with plumes, and still pursued, Where only foxes and wild cats intrude, Till we were come beside an ancient tree Late blasted by a storm. Here he renew'd His loud complaints,--choosing that spot to be The scene of his last horrid tragedy."

LXXVII.

"It was a wild and melancholy glen, Made gloomy by tall firs and cypress dark, Whose roots, like any bones of buried men, Push'd through the rotten sod for fear's remark; A hundred horrid stems, jagged and stark, Wrestled with crooked arms in hideous fray, Besides sleek ashes with their dappled bark, Like crafty serpents climbing for a prey, With many blasted oaks moss-grown and gray."

LXXVIII.

"But here upon his final desperate clause Suddenly I pronounced so sweet a strain, Like a pang'd nightingale, it made him pause, Till half the frenzy of his grief was slain, The sad remainder oozing from his brain In timely ecstasies of healing tears, Which through his ardent eyes began to drain;-- Meanwhile the deadly Fates unclosed their shears:-- So pity me and all my fated peers!"

LXXIX.

Thus Ariel ended, and was some time hush'd: When with the hoary shape a fresh tongue pleads, And red as rose the gentle Fairy blush'd To read the records of her own good deeds:-- "It chanced," quoth she, "in seeking through the meads For honied cowslips, sweetest in the morn, Whilst yet the buds were hung with dewy beads."

And Echo answered to the huntsman's horn, We found a babe left in the swaths forlorn.

LXXX.

"A little, sorrowful, deserted thing, Begot of love, and yet no love begetting; Guiltless of shame, and yet for shame to wring; And too soon banish'd from a mother's petting, To churlish nurture and the wide world's fretting, For alien pity and unnatural care;-- Alas! to see how the cold dew kept wetting His childish coats, and dabbled all his hair, Like gossamers across his forehead fair."

LXXXI.

"His pretty pouting mouth, witless of speech, Lay half-way open like a rose-lipp'd shell; And his young cheek was softer than a peach, Whereon his tears, for roundness, could not dwell, But quickly roll'd themselves to pearls, and fell, Some on the grass, and some against his hand, Or haply wander'd to the dimpled well, Which love beside his mouth had sweetly plann'd, Yet not for tears, but mirth and smilings bland."

LXXXII.

"Pity it was to see those frequent tears Falling regardless from his friendless eyes; There was such beauty in those twin blue spheres, As any mother's heart might leap to prize; Blue were they, like the zenith of the skies Softened betwixt two clouds, both clear and mild;-- Just touched with thought, and yet not over wise, They show'd the gentle spirit of a child, Not yet by care or any craft defiled."

LXXXIII.

"Pity it was to see the ardent sun Scorching his helpless limbs--it shone so warm; For kindly shade or shelter he had none, Nor mother's gentle breast, come fair or storm.

Meanwhile I bade my pitying mates transform Like grasshoppers, and then, with shrilly cries, All round the infant noisily we swarm, Haply some passing rustic to advise-- Whilst providential Heaven our care espies."

LXXXIV.

"And sends full soon a tender-hearted hind, Who, wond'ring at our loud unusual note, Strays curiously aside, and so doth find The orphan child laid in the grass remote, And laps the foundling in his russet coat, Who thence was nurtured in his kindly cot:-- But how he prosper'd let proud London quote, How wise, how rich, and how renown'd he got, And chief of all her citizens, I wot."

LXXXV.

"Witness his goodly vessels on the Thames, Whose holds were fraught with costly merchandise,-- Jewels from Ind, and pearls for courtly dames, And gorgeous silks that Samarcand supplies: Witness that Royal Bourse he bade arise, The mart of merchants from the East and West: Whose slender summit, pointing to the skies, Still bears, in token of his grateful breast, The tender grasshopper, his chosen crest--"

LXXXVI.