The desire of the moth for the star, TO A LADY; WITH A GUITAR. RIEL to Miranda :- Take And, too intense, is turned to pain. From Prospero's enchanted cell, When you die, the silent Moon, Is not sadder in her cell When you live again on earth, Your course of love, and Ariel still Has tracked your steps and served your will. Now in humbler, happier lot, This is all remembered not; And now, alas! the poor sprite is From you, he only dares to crave, A smile to-day, a song to-morrow. The artist who this idol wrought |