'Twas on one morn, in spring-time weather,
A rosy, warm, inviting hour,
That Love and Faith went out together,
And took the path to Beauty's bower.
Love laughed and frolicked all the way,
While sober Faith, as on they rambled,
Allowed the thoughtless boy to play,
But watched him, wheresoe'er he gamboled.
So warm a welcome, Beauty smiled
Upon the guests whom chance had sent her,
That Love and Faith were both beguiled
The grotto of the nymph to enter;
And when the curtains of the skies
The drowsy hand of Night was closing,
Love nestled him in Beauty's eyes,
While Faith was on her heart reposing.
Love thought he never saw a pair
So softly radiant in their beaming;
Faith deemed that he could meet no where
So sweet and safe a place to dream in;
And there, for life in bright content,
Enchained, they must have still been lying,
For Love his wings to Faith had lent,
And Faith he never dream'd of flying.
But Beauty, though she liked the child,
With all his winning ways about him,
Upon his mentor never smiled,
And thought that Love might do without him;
Poor Faith abused, soon sighing fled,
And now one knows not where to find him;
While mourning Love quick followed
Upon the wings he left behind him.
'Tis said, that in his wandering
Love still around that spot will hover,
Like bird that on bewildered wing
Her parted mate pines to discover;
And true it is that Beauty's door
Is often by the idler haunted;
But, since Faith fled, Love owns no more
The spell that held his wings enchanted.