And humbly chives of saffron brings, For his most cheerful offerings. When, alter these, he’s paid his vows, He lowly to the altar bows: And then he dons the silkworms shed, Like a Turk’s turban on his head, And reverently departeth thence, Hid in a cloud of frankincense; And by the glow-worm’s light well-guided, Goes to the feast that’s now provided. ROBERT HERRICK. OBERON’S FEAST. A little mushroom-table spread, After short prayers they set on bread, A moon-parched grain of purest wheat, With some small glitt’ring grit, to eat His choice bits with; then in a trice They make a feast less great than nice. But all this while his eye is served, We must not think his ear was starved; But that there was in place to stir His spleen, the chirring grasshopper, The merry cricket, puling fly, The piping gnat for minstrelsy. And now, we must imagine first, The elves present, to quench his thirst, A pure seed-pearl of infant dew, Brought and besweetened in a blue And pregnant violet; which done, His kitling eyes begin to run Quite through the table, where he spies The horns of papery butterflies, Of which he eats; and tastes a little Of that we call the cuckoo’s spittle. A little fuz-ball puddling stands By, yet not blessed by his hands, That was too coarse; but then forthwith He ventures boldly on the pith Of sugared rush, and eats the sagg And well be-strutted bee’s sweet bag; Gladding his palate with some store Of emmets’ eggs; what would he more, But beards of mice, a newt’s stewed thigh, A bloated earwig, and a fly; With the red-capped worm, that’s shut Within the concave of a nut, Brown as his tooth. A little moth, Late fattened in a piece of cloth; With withered cherries, mandrake’s ears, Mole’s eyes; to these the slain stag’s tears; The unctuous dewlaps 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 pressed 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. OBERON’S PALACE.