  "Give me a son, grant me an heir!" The fairies granted her the prayer. And to the partial parent's eyes Was never child so fair and wise; Waked to the morning's pleasing joy, The mother rose and sought her boy. She found the nurse like one possessed, Who wrung her hands and beat her breast. "What is the matter, Nurse—this clatter: The boy is well—what is the matter?" "What is the matter? Ah! I fear The dreadful fairy has been here, And changed the baby-boy. She came Invisible; I'm not to blame She's changed the baby: here's a creature!— A pug, a monkey, every feature! Where is his mother's mouth and grace? His father's eyes, and nose, and face?" "Woman," the mother said, "you're blind: He's wit and beauty all combined." "Lord, Madam! with that horrid leer!— That squint is more than one can bear." But, as she spoke, a pigmy wee soul Jumped in head-foremost through the key-hole, Perched on the cradle, and from thence Harangued with fairy vehemence: "Repair thy wit—repair thy wit! Truly, you are devoid of it. Think you that fairies would change places With sons of clay and human races— In one point like to you alone, That we are partial to our own; For neither would a fairy mother Exchange her baby for another; But should we change with imps of clay, We should be idiots—like as they." |
|
