Yet that have hearts vexed with unquiet thought
Of worldly grievance, and of lost delight;
Oh! turn to Spenser's Faerie Tale,--so fraught
With all that's mild, and beautiful, and bright,--
There revel in the fancies he hath wroght,--
Fancies more fair than May,--or morning light,--
Or solitary star awake at night,--
Or breath from Lovers' lips in kisses caught.
Sweet Spenser! how I love thy faerie pages,--
Where gentle Una lives so radiantly;
Fair is thy record of romantic ages,
And calm and pure the pleasure which it yields:
While life and thought are with me,--thou shalt be
My dear companion in the silent fields.