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The Metamorphosed Gypsies (excerpt)

 The fairy beam upon you,
The stars to glister on you;
A moon of light
In the noon of night,
Till the fire-drake hath o'ergone you.
The wheel of fortune guide you The boy with the bow beside you; Run aye in the way Till the bird of day, And the luckier lot betide you.
To the old, long life and treasure, To the young, all health and pleasure; To the fair, their face With eternal grace, And the foul to be lov'd at leisure.
To the witty, all clear mirrors, To the foolish, their dark errors; To the loving sprite, A secure delight; To the jealous, his own false terrors.

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