Wretched mortal, once invited,
Fairy land was thine at will;
Every little star had lighted
Revels when the world was still.
Every bank a gate had granted.
To the topaz-paven halls—
Every wave had roll'd enchanted,
Chiming from our music-falls.
CHORUS OF PINCHING FAIRIES.
Round him winging, sharp and stinging,
Clip him, nip him, inch by inch,
Sermons singing, wisdom bringing,
Point the moral with a pinch.
CHORUS OF PREACHING FAIRIES.
Now the spell is lost for ever,
And the common earth is thine;
Count the traffic on the river,
Weigh the ingots in the mine;
Look around, aloft, and under,
With an eye upon the cost;
Gone the happy world of wonder!
Woe, thy fairy land is lost!
CHORUS OF PINCHING FAIRIES.
Nature bare is, where thine air is,
Custom cramps thee inch by inch,
And when care is, human fairies
Preach and—vanish, at a pinch!
Sudden they cease—for shrill crow'd chanticleer;121
Grey on the darkness broke the glimmering light;
Slowly assured he was not dead with fear
And pinches, cautious peer'd around the knight;
He found himself replaced beneath the oak,
And heard with rising wrath the chuckling croak.