The useless secret of creation: he, The fairy king, slow-winged and sad of heart, Searched out a new home from the host of heaven, And chose that star for him and his to dwell in. Celio. I said so. Sylvia. And, beside, that this strange science Impart to thee a darling fairy did-- One of a company that roam the earth To happy and inspire such clay-clad souls As recognise their heavenly geniture, And separate them from the loathly world: And that this spirit visits earth to-night To revelate some pleasure new to thee, Which thou, sweetheart, art going to share with me? Celio. Hark to that singing! 'tis the fairy's voice. Rupert. We overheard you here unwillingly, But with wills well inclined would now remain. Celio. That's as the fairy pleases. Here he comes. Cinthio [To Faustine]. All are engrossed: no fear of our discovery. We'll wait awhile, then slip unseen away. Felice [To Bruno]. Here be miracles about to be. Enter 1st Fairy. 1st Fairy. Song. On the mountain's crown, When the sun goes down, You may see me robed in the bright crimson. In the still mid-night When the moon shines bright, I shimmer down on a beam of light. I guide the mariner's crazy craft, When the billows are raging high. I glide before the wandering boor, And lead him safe to his own house door For love of charity. I hover near the poet's ear, And haunt him till he sings: The minstrel's hand my unseen wand Guides o'er the throbbing strings. Whatever is joyful and makes the world glad, That is my lot to do. I never am weary, I never am sad, For my work my play is too.