And lo! upon my fix'd delighted ken Appear'd the loyal Fays.--Some by degrees Crept from the primrose buds that open'd then, Ana some from bell-shaped blossoms like the bees, Some from the dewy meads, and rushy leas, Flew up like chafers when the rustics pass; Some from the rivers, others from tall trees Dropp'd, like shed blossoms, silent to the grass, Spirits and elfins small, of every class. IX. Peri and Pixy, and quaint Puck the Antic, Brought Robin Goodfellow, that merry swain; And stealthy Mab, queen of old realms romantic, Came too, from distance, in her tiny wain, Fresh dripping from a cloud--some bloomy rain, Then circling the bright Moon, had wash'd her car, And still bedew'd it with a various stain: Lastly came Ariel, shooting from a star, Who bears all fairy embassies afar. X. But Oberon, that night elsewhere exiled, Was absent, whether some distemper'd spleen Kept him and his fair mate unreconciled, Or warfare with the Gnome (whose race had been Sometime obnoxious), kept him from his queen, And made her now peruse the starry skies Prophetical, with such an absent mien; Howbeit, the tears stole often to her eyes, And oft the Moon was incensed with her sighs-- XI. Which made the elves sport drearily, and soon Their hushing dances languish'd to a stand, Like midnight leaves, when, as the Zephyrs swoon, All on their drooping stems they sink unfann'd,-- So into silence droop'd the fairy band, To see their empress dear so pale and still, Crowding her softly round on either hand, As pale as frosty snowdrops, and as chill, To whom the sceptred dame reveals her ill. XII. "Alas," quoth she, "ye know our fairy lives Are leased upon the fickle faith of men; Not measured out against Fate's mortal knives, Like human gosamers,--we perish when We fade and are forgot in worldly kens-- Though poesy has thus prolong'd our date, Thanks be to the sweet Bard's auspicious pen That rescued us so long!--howbeit of late I feel some dark misgivings of our fate." XIII. "And this dull day my melancholy sleep Hath been so thronged with images of woe, That even now I cannot choose but weep To think this was some sad prophetic show Of future horror to befall us so, Of mortal wreck and uttermost distress, Yea, our poor empire's fall and overthrow, For this was my long vision's dreadful stress, And when I waked my trouble was not less." XIV. "Whenever to the clouds I tried to seek, Such leaden weight dragg'd these Icarian wings, My faithless wand was wavering and weak, And slimy toads had trespass'd in our rings-- The birds refused to sing for me--all things Disown'd their old allegiance to our spells; The rude bees prick'd me with their rebel stings; And, when I pass'd, the valley-lily's bells Rang out, methought, most melancholy knells." XV.