The Metamorphosed Gypsies (excerpt) by Ben Jonson
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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