A stream of luscious fragrance upward roll’d.
And dance went round, a graceful flying maze
From tiny feet, that changing glancing rays
Gave out around; for o’er their persons shone
A light, that from the kindling stars is caught,
When with their lustre most the skies is fraught,
But all their brightest wassailage—oh, none
That ever has beheld it, may reveal;
Or gone for ever is his earthly weal,
Waking the fairies’ ire. “Hark! hark, away!