We the fairies blithe and antic,
Of Dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us,
...
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I believe that this is not the original by Randolph but a translation by James Leigh Hunt of a Latin poem by Randolph. The constraints of translation may explain the uncomfortable first verse, somewhat reminiscent of William Topaz McGonagall.
Does anyone have the original?
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I believe that this is not the original by Randolph but a translation by James Leigh Hunt of a Latin poem by Randolph. The constraints of translation may explain the uncomfortable first verse, somewhat reminiscent of William Topaz McGonagall. Does anyone have the original?