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Brown as his tooth. A little moth,

Late fattened in a piece of cloth;

With withered cherries, mandrakes' ears,
Moles' eyes to these the slain stag's tears;
The unctuous dew-laps of a snail,
The broke-heart of a nightingale
O'ercome in music; with a wine
Ne'er ravished from the flattering vine,
But gently prest from the soft side
Of the most sweet and dainty bride,
Brought in a dainty daisy, which

He fully quaffs up, to bewitch

His blood to height; this done, commended Grace by his priest; The feast is ended.

ROBERT HERRICK.

FAIRY'S SONG.

FROM "A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM," ACT II. SC. 1.

OVER hill, over dale,

Thorough bush, thorough brier,

Over park, over pale,

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Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander every where,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats, spots you see;
These be rubies, fairy favors—
In those freckles live their savors.
I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.

SHAKESPEARE.

COMPLIMENT TO QUEEN ELIZABETH.

FROM "A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM," ACT II. SC. 2.

OBERON. My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou remember'st

Since once I sat upon a promontory,

And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back,
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,
That the rude sea grew civil at her song,

And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
To hear the sea-maid's music.

Риск. —

I remember.

OBERON.―That very time I saw (but thou couldst not),

Flying between the cold moon and the earth,
Cupid all armed: a certain aim he took

At a fair vestal throned by the west,

And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow,

As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts:

But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft
Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon,
And the imperial votaress passed on,

In maiden meditation, fancy free.

Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell:

It fell upon a little western flower

Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,

And maidens call it Love-in-idleness.

Fetch me that flower.

2

SHAKESPEARE.

THE FAIRIES' LULLABY.

FROM "A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM," ACT II. SC. 3.

Enter TITANIA, with her train.

TITANIA. Come, now a roundel, and a fairy song; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence ;— Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds; Some war with rear-mice for their leathern wings, To make my small elves coats; and some keep back The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep; Then to your offices, and let me rest.

SONG.

1 FAIRY. You spotted snakes, with double tongue, Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;

Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong:

Come not near our fairy queen.

CHORUS. Philomel, with melody,

Sing in our sweet lullaby;

Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby:

Never harm,

Nor spell nor charm,

Come our lovely lady nigh;

So, good-night, with lullaby.

2 FAIRY.- Weaving spiders, come not here,

Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence! Beetles black, approach not near;

Worm, nor snail, do no offence.

CHORUS. Philomel, with melody, etc.

1 FAIRY.-Hence away; now all is well: One, aloof, stand sentinel.

[Exeunt Fairies. TITANIA sleeps.

SHAKESPEARE.

FAIRIES' SONG.

WE the fairies blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,

Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.

Stolen sweets are always sweeter;
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels ;
Stolen, stolen be your apples.

When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then 's the time for orchard-robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling
Were it not for stealing, stealing.

From the Latin of THOMAS RANDOLPH.
Translation of LEIGH HUNT.

THE FAIRIES.

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,

And white owl's feather!

Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,-
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;

Some in the reeds

Of the black mountain-lake, With frogs for their watch-dogs, All night awake.

High on the hill-top

The old King sits;

He is now so old and gray
He 's nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist
Columbkill he crosses,

On his stately journeys

From Slieveleague to Rosses:

Or going up with music

On cold starry nights,

To sup with the Queen

Of the gay Northern Lights.

They stole little Bridget
For seven years long;
When she came down again
Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back,

Between the night and morrow;

They thought that she was fast asleep, But she was dead with sorrow.

They have kept her ever since

Deep within the lakes,

On a bed of flag-leaves,

Watching till she wakes.

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