BEHOLD, as goblins dark of mien And portly tyrants dyed with crime Change, in the transformation scene, At Christmas, in the pantomime, Instanter, at the prompter's cough, The fairy bonnets them, and they Throw their abhorred carbuncles off And blossom like the flowers in May. - So mankind, to angelic eyes, So, through the scenes of life below, In life's ironical disguise, A travesty of man, ye go: But fear not: ere the curtain fall, Death in the transformation scene Steps forward from her pedestal, Apparent, as the fairy Queen; And coming, frees you in a trice From all your lendings - lust of fame, Ungainly virtue, ugly vice, Terror and tyranny and shame. So each, at last himself, for good In that dear country lays him down, At last beloved and understood And pure in feature and renown.