Pale Envy rankles deep within my breast,
And baneful venom sheds. Grim Horror too
Attends my thoughts, and fills my gloomy mind
With tales of gliding sprites, in milk-white shrouds
Array’d, and rattling chains, and yelling ghosts
Irascible! or Fancy, mimic queen,
To swift imagination’s eye presents
A group of tiny elves, in circling dance,
Or luscious feast employ’d; such elves as danc’d
When Oberon did fair Titania wed;