Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon! Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task fordone. Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, Puts the wretch, that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the churchyard paths to glide: And we fairies, that do run By the triple Hecate’s team, From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream, Now are frolic: not a mouse Shall disturb this hallowed house: I am sent with broom before, To sweep the dust behind the door. _Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their Train._ OBERON. Through this house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire: Every elf and fairy sprite Hop as light as bird from briar; And this ditty, after me, Sing, and dance it trippingly. TITANIA. First rehearse this song by rote: To each word a warbling note, Hand in hand, with fairy grace, Will we sing, and bless this place. _Song and Dance._ OBERON. Now, until the break of day, Through this house each fairy stray; To the best bride-bed will we, Which by us shall blessed be; And the issue there create Ever shall be fortunate; So shall all the couples three Ever true in loving be: And the blots of nature’s hand Shall not in their issue stand; Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar, Nor mark prodigious, such as are Despised in nativity, Shall upon their children be.— With this field-dew consecrate, Every fairy take his gait; And each several chamber bless, Through this palace with sweet peace: E’er shall it in safety rest, And the owner of it blest. Trip away; Make no stay: Meet me all by break of day. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. A FAIRY TALE IN THE ANCIENT ENGLISH STYLE. In Britain’s Isle, in Arthur’s days, When midnight fairies daunc’d the maze, Liv’d Edwin of the Green; Edwin, I wis, a gentle youth, Endow’d with courage, sense, and truth, Though badly shap’d he’d been. His mountain back mote well be said, To measure height against his head, And lift itself above; Yet, spite of all that Nature did To make his uncouth form forbid, This creature dar’d to love. He felt the charms of Edith’s eyes, Nor wanted hope to gain the prize, Could ladies look within; But one Sir Topaz dress’d with art, And, if a shape could win a heart, He had a shape to win. Edwin, if right I read my song, With slighted passion pac’d along All in the moony light; ’Twas near an old enchanted court, Where sportive fairies made resort To revel out the night.