XL THE BLOSSOM ON a day-alack the day!- Through the velvet leaves the wind, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. But, alas, my hand hath sworn Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn: Vow, alack, for youth unmeet; Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. Do not call it sin in me, That I am forsworn for thee; Juno but an Ethiope were; And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love. XLI Shakespeare. THE FAIRY LIFE 1 OVER hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, THE FAIRY LIFE I do wander everywhere, In those freckles live their savours: XLII 2 You spotted snakes, with double tongue, Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby : Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, So, good night, with lullaby. Weaving spiders, come not here; Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence! Beetles black, approach not near; Worm, nor snail, do no offence. 35 Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby: Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby. PUCK sings: XLIII 3 Shakespeare. Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon ; All with weary task fordone. 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, In the churchway paths to glide: By the triple Hecate's team, Following darkness like a dream, THE FAIRY LIFE Now are frolic; not a mouse To sweep the dust behind the door. XLIV Shakespeare. COME unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd, The wild waves whist, Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. Bow, wow, The watch-dogs bark: Bow, wow. Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow ! Shakespeare. XLV WHERE the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly 37 After summer merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. Shakespeare. XLVI THE FAIRY QUEEN PROSERPINA HARK, all you ladies that do sleep! Bids you awake and pity them that weep. What the day doth forbid ; But if you let your lovers moan, Will send abroad her fairies every one, That shall pinch black and blue Your white hands and fair arms That did not kindly rue Your paramours' harms. In myrtle arbours on the downs This night by moonshine leading merry rounds, Down the dale, up the hill; No plaints or groans may move All you that will hold watch with Love, Will make you fairer than Dione's dove: |