KENSINGTON GARDEN.
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Far sweeter was it, when its peopled groundWith fairy domes and dazzling towers were crown'd.Where, in the midst, those verdant pillars spring,Rose the proud palace of the elfin king.For every hedge of vegetable green,In happier years, a crowded street was seen,Not all those leaves, that now the prospect grace,Could match the numbers of its pigmy race.What urged this mighty empire to its fate,A tale of woe and wonder, I relate. When Albion ruled the land, whose lineage cameFrom Neptune mingling with a mortal dame,Their midnight pranks the sprightly fairies play'dOn every hill, and danced in every shade.But, foes to sun-shine, most they took delightIn dells and dales, conceal'd from human sight:There hew'd their houses in the arching rock;Or scoop'd the bosom of the blasted oak;Or heard, o'ershadow'd by some shelving hill,The distant murmurs of the falling rill.They, rich in pilfer'd spoils, indulged their mirth,And pitied the huge wretched sons of earth.Even now, 'tis said, the hinds o'erhear their strain,And strive to view their airy forms in vain;They to their cells at mans approach repair,Like the shy leveret, or the mother-hare,
