But others disapproved this plan,
And by his flame tho' somewhat frighted,
Thought Love too much a gentleman
In such a dangerous place to light it.
However, _there_ he was--and dancing
With the fair Sylph, light as a feather;
They looked like two fresh sunbeams glancing
At daybreak down to earth together.
And all had gone off safe and well,
But for that plaguy torch whose light,
Though not _yet_ kindled--who could tell
How soon, how devilishly, it _might_?
And so it chanced--which, in those dark
And fireless halls was quite amazing;
Did we not know how small a spark
Can set the torch of Love a-blazing.
Whether it came (when close entangled
In the gay waltz) from her bright eyes,
Or from the _lucciole_, that spangled
Her locks of jet--is all surmise;
But certain 'tis the ethereal girl
_Did_ drop a spark at some odd turning,
Which by the waltz's windy whirl
Was fanned up into actual burning.
Oh for that Lamp's metallic gauze,
That curtain of protecting wire,
Which DAVY delicately draws
Around illicit, dangerous fire!--
The wall he sets 'twixt Flame and Air,
(Like that which barred young Thisbe's bliss,)
Thro' whose small holes this dangerous pair
May see each other but not kiss.
At first the torch looked rather bluely,--
A sign, they say, that no good boded--
Then quick the gas became unruly.
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