10
And fatal night that night had been, To all poor Richard's hard-earn'd store;But virtue's ready guardians still,The green-rob'd fairies of the hill, Watch'd at his lowly door.
'Twas their's, wherever sorrow wept, To come unseen and wipe the tear;Or by the mountain's dang'rous sideThe midnight traversal's steps to guide, And sinking soul to cheer.
Oft on the wand'ring peasant's ear, When passing by some haunted hill,Such soothing melody has stole,As did his rude untutor'd soul With heav'nly visions fill.
Or, when by wicked demons led Far o'er the desert heath astray,Quick burst upon his startled sightTheir little forms so heav'nly bright, And shew'd the safer way.
And now, round Richard's humble home Their glitt'ring ranks embattled stood;And march'd with firm undaunted mien,As slowly on the dewy green, Descends th' infernal brood.
