179
KENSINGTON GARDEN.
So loved thy name, that, at their monarchs choice,All Fairy shouted with a general voice. Oriel alone a secret rage suppress'd,That from his bosom heaved the golden vest.Along the banks of Thame his empire ran,Wide was his range, and populous his clan.When cleanly servants, if we trust old tales,Beside their wages had good fairy vails,Whole heaps of silver tokens, nightly paidThe careful wife or the neat dairy-maid,Sunk not his stores. With smiles and powerful bribesHe gain'd the leaders of his neighbour tribes,And ere the night the face of heaven had changed,Beneath his banners half the fairies ranged. Mean-while driven back to earth, a lonely wayThe cheerless Albion wander'd half the day,A long, long journey, choked with brakes and thorns,Ill-measured by ten thousand barley-corns.Tired out at length, a spreading stream he spy'dFed by old Thame, a daughter of the tide:"Twas then a spreading stream, though, now, its fameObscured, it bears the creeks inglorious name,And creeps, as through contracted bounds it strays,A leap for boys in these degenerate days.
