Swift fled the Days, for now in Hope they fled; When a fair Daughter bless’d the Nuptial Bed; Her Infant-face the Mother’s Pains beguil’d, She look’d so pleasing and so softly smil’d; Those Smiles, those Looks, with sweet Sensations mov’d The Gazer’s Soul, and as he look’d, he lov’d. And now the Fairies came with Gifts to grace, So mild a Nature and so fair a Face. They gave, with Beauty, that bewitching Art, That holds in easy Chains the human Heart; They gave her Skill to win the stubborn Mind, To make the Suffering to their Sorrows blind, To bring on pensive Looks the pleasing Smile, And Care’s stern Brow of every Frown beguile. These magic Favours grac’d the Infant-maid, Whose more enlivening Smile, the charming Gifts repaid. Now Fortune chang’d, who, were she constant long, Would leave us few Adventures for our Song. A wicked Elfin rov’d this Land around, Whose Joys proceeded from the Griefs he found; _Envy_ his Name:--his fascinating Eye, From the light Bosom drew the sudden Sigh; Unsocial he, but with malignant Mind, He dwelt with Man, that he might curse Mankind; Like the first Foe he sought th’ Abode of Joy, Griev’d to behold but eager to destroy; Round blooming Beauty, like the Wasp, he flew, Soil’d the fresh Sweet and chang’d the rosy Hue; The Wise, the Good, with anxious Heart, he saw, And here a Failing found and there a Flaw; Discord in Families ’twas his to move, Distrust in Friendship, Jealousy in Love; He told the Poor, what Joys the Great possess’d, The Great--what calm Content the Cottage bless’d; To part the Learned and the Rich he tried, Till their slow Friendship perish’d in their Pride. Such was the Fiend, and so secure of Prey, That only Misery pass’d unstung away. Soon as he heard the Fairy-babe was born, Scornful he smil’d, but felt no more than Scorn; For why, when Fortune plac’d her State so low, In useless Spite his lofty Malice show? Why in a Mischief of the meaner Kind, Exhaust the Vigour of a rancorous Mind? But soon as Fame the Fairy-gifts proclaim’d, Quick-rising Wrath his ready Soul inflam’d; To swear by Vows, that ev’n the Wicked tie, The Nymph should weep her varied Destiny; That every Gift, that now appear’d to shine In her fair Face and make her Smiles divine, Should all, the Poison of his Magic prove, And they should scorn her, whom she sought for Love.