Mix'd with the plume (of so high price), The precious bird of paradise; and it shall be Borne o'er our head (by our inquiry) By elfs, the fittest of the fairy. Her buskins of the "dainty shell" of the lady-cow. The musicians are to be the nightingale, lark, thrush, and other songsters of the grove. But for still music, we will keep The wren and titmouse, which to sleep Shall sing the bride when she's alone, The rest into their chambers gone; And like those upon ropes that walk On gossamer from stalk to stalk, The tripping fairy tricks shall play The evening of the wedding day. Finally, the bride-bed is to be of roses; the curtains, tester, and all, of the "flower imperial;" the fringe hung with harebells; the pillows of lilies, "with down stuft of the butterfly;" For our Tita is to-day, To be married to a fay. In Nymphal iii., The fairies are hopping, The small flowers cropping, And with dew dropping, Skip thorow the greaves. At barley-break they play Merrily all the day: At night themselves they lay Upon the soft leaves. And in Nymphal vi. the forester says, The dryads, hamadryads, the satyrs, and the fawns, Oft play at hide-and-seek before me on the lawns; The frisking fairy oft, when horned Cynthia shines, Before me as I walk dance wanton matachines. Herrick is generally regarded as the Fairy-poet, _par excellence_; but, in our opinion, without sufficient reason, for Drayton's Fairy pieces are much superior to his. Indeed Herrick's Fairy-poetry is by no means his best; and we doubt if he has anything to exceed in that way, or perhaps equal, the light and fanciful King Oberon's Apparel of Smith.[409] Milton disdained not to sing How faëry Mab the junkets eat. She was pinch'd and pull'd, she said; And he, by _friar's_ lantern led,[410] Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat To earn his _cream bowl duly set_, When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn That ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And stretch'd out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And, crop-full, out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings. Regardless of Mr. Gifford's sneer at "those who may undertake the unprofitable drudgery of tracing out the property of every word, and phrase, and idea in Milton,"[411] we will venture to trace a little here, and beg the reader to compare this passage with one quoted above from Harsenet, and to say if the resemblance be accidental. The truth is, Milton, reared in London, probably knew the popular superstitions chiefly or altogether from books; and almost every idea in this passage may be found in books that he must have read.