Scarce fall the words from those unlucky lips, 120 Than down rush'd darkness, flooding all the place; His feet a fairy in a twinkling trips; The angry winglets swarm upon his face; Pounce on their prey the tiny torturers flew, And sang this moral while they pinch'd him blue: CHORUS OF PREACHING FAIRIES. Joy to him who fairy treasures With a fairy's eye can see; Woe to him who counts and measures What the worth in coin may be. Gems from wither'd leaves we fashion For the spirit pure from stain; Grasp them with a sordid passion And they turn to leaves again. CHORUS OF PINCHING FAIRIES. Here and there, and everywhere, Tramp and cramp him inch by inch; Fair is fair,--to each his share You shall preach, and we will pinch. CHORUS OF PREACHING FAIRIES. Fairy treasures are not rated By their value in the mart; In thy bosom, Earth, created For the coffers of the heart. Dost thou covet fairy money? Rifle but the blossom bells-- Like the wild bee, shape the honey Into golden cloister-cells. CHORUS OF PINCHING FAIRIES. Spirit hear it, flesh revere it! Stamp the lesson inch by inch! Rightly merit, flesh and spirit, This the preaching, that the pinch! CHORUS OF PREACHING FAIRIES. Wretched mortal, once invited, Fairy land was thine at will; Every little star had lighted Revels when the world was still. Every bank a gate had granted. To the topaz-paven halls-- Every wave had roll'd enchanted, Chiming from our music-falls. CHORUS OF PINCHING FAIRIES. Round him winging, sharp and stinging, Clip him, nip him, inch by inch, Sermons singing, wisdom bringing, Point the moral with a pinch. CHORUS OF PREACHING FAIRIES. Now the spell is lost for ever, And the common earth is thine; Count the traffic on the river, Weigh the ingots in the mine; Look around, aloft, and under, With an eye upon the cost; Gone the happy world of wonder! Woe, thy fairy land is lost! CHORUS OF PINCHING FAIRIES. Nature bare is, where thine air is, Custom cramps thee inch by inch, And when care is, human fairies Preach and--vanish, at a pinch! Sudden they cease--for shrill crow'd chanticleer; 121 Grey on the darkness broke the glimmering light; Slowly assured he was not dead with fear And pinches, cautious peer'd around the knight; He found himself replaced beneath the oak, And heard with rising wrath the chuckling croak.