Since Adrian, spite of warning voice,
This specious gift decides thy choice,
Slight not the counsel that would fain
Preserve thee from remorse and pain.
While boasting coffers richly stor’d,
And plenty smiling on thy board,
In grandeur’s costly garbs array’d,
With servile homage basely paid
From summon’d tribes of venal bands,
That wanton luxury commands,
Let thy untainted mind beware
And shun corruption’s lurking snare.
If, when of long-sought wealth possess’d,
Thou fail to succour the distress’d;
And flatterers feed in splendid state,
Yet drive the needy from thy gate,
Soon will destructive vice impart,
Her baneful influence to thy heart,
Chasing those purer feelings thence
The meed of blameless innocence.
Then shall this drooping rose decree
The loss of fortune and of me;
For harden’d heart and vicious mind
From fairies ne’er protection find.
Yet let discretion bounty guide,
Nor succour sloth, nor pamper pride,
To suff’ring want give ready ear,
And dry the modest suppliant’s tear,
Yet still the grateful boon dispense
With lib’ral hand, but guarded sense.
Then may this dangerous treasure deal
Those blessings virtuous mortals feel,
And favour’d Adrian haply prove
Deserving of esteem and love.
Charming fairy, he exclaimed, mistrust me not; I value this precious gift too highly ever to abuse it; so saying he ran off to find Amaranthé, whom he met coming as hastily from her apartment with the hyacinth in her hand. Look, look, shouted Adrian, here is my darling rose;—and see, answered his sister, I have got my sweet hyacinth, but with it I found this paper, containing some mighty crabbed, dismal words, that I could very well have dispensed with. “Aye, my gift was accompanied with a sort of a lecture too. It is very strange that so powerful a fairy should not be able to discern my good intentions, without my making so many protestations of them,—but what says your paper?” and unfolding it read as follows:
Beauty, that peerless gem whose magic smile
Can teach the frigid heart with warmth to glow,
Or smooth the frowning Cynic’s sullen brow,
And the cold glance of cautious age beguile;
Still decks the nymph who wears her potent spell
With sparkling eye, and gaily dimpled cheek
That sportive ease and conscious pow’r bespeak,
Nor dreads that time her cherish’d pride may quell.
While flatt’ring crowds proclaim unrivall’d sway
With haughty triumph glows her radiant bloom,
But soon the bright illusion fades away
And yields to vanity’s unwelcome doom.
So, Amaranthé, may this flower decay
And blighted beauty seek the shelt’ring tomb.
They then proceeded together to the apartment of Claribel, whom they found in a sweet slumber, from which their exclamations soon aroused her. “Look at this stupid girl,” cried Amaranthé, “if she be not sleeping as soundly and unconcernedly as if she had never heard of the wonderful events this morning was to produce.” “And yet,” said Adrian, “I dare to say the fairy has not forgotten her,” and casting his eyes round soon espied the lily. “Aye, there is the favourite flower, and I hope accompanied by some sage admonitions as well as ours.”—Then advancing towards it, “Sure enough, here is the attendant scroll,” and opening it immediately, read aloud: