To Spenser

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.