Art's Wise hand enchasing here those warts Which we to others from ourselves Sell, and brought hither by the elves. The tempting mole, stolen from the neck Of some shy virgin, seems to deck The holy entrance; where within The room is hung with the blue skin Of shifted snake, enfriezed throughout With eyes of peacocks' trains, and trout-- Flies' curious wings; and these among Those silver pence, that cut the tongue Of the red infant, neatly hung. The glow-worm's eyes, the shining scales Of silvery fish, wheat-straws, the snail's Soft candlelight, the kitling's eyne, Corrupted wood, serve here for shine; No glaring light of broad-faced day, Or other over-radiant ray Ransacks this room, but what weak beams Can make reflected from these gems, And multiply; such is the light, But ever doubtful, day or night. By this quaint taper-light he winds His errors up; and now he finds His moon-tann'd Mab as somewhat sick, And, love knows, tender as a chick. Upon six plump dandelions high- Rear'd lies her elvish majesty, Whose woolly bubbles seem'd to drown Her Mabship in obedient down. * * * * * And next to these two blankets, o'er- Cast of the finest gossamer; And then a rug of carded wool, Which, sponge-like, drinking in the dull Light of the moon, seem'd to comply, Cloud-like, the dainty deity: Thus soft she lies; and overhead A spinner's circle is bespread With cobweb curtains, from the roof So neatly sunk, as that no proof Of any tackling can declare What gives it hanging in the air. * * * * * OBERON'S FEAST. Shapcot, to thee the fairy state I with discretion dedicate; Because thou prizest things that are Curious and unfamiliar. Take first the feast; these dishes gone, We'll see the fairy court anon.