And from the corner where he lay Come prankling o'er the place, But (trust me, Gentles!) never yet The country lent the fweet perfumes, Now whilft he gaz'd, a gallant drest What mortal of a wretched mind, At this the fwain, whofe venturous foul Advanc'd in open fight; "Nor have I caufe of dreed, he faid, "Who view, by no presumption led, "Your revels of the night. "'Twas grief, for fcorn of faithful love, "Which made my fteps unweeting rove "Amid the nightly dew." 'Tis well, the gallant cries again, "We fairies never injure men "Who dare to tell us true. "Exalt thy love-dejected heart, Be mine the task, or ere we part, "Now take the pleasure of thy chaunce; He fpoke, and all a fudden there The monarch leads the queen: The reft their fairy partners found: The dauncing paft, the board was laid, Withouten hands the dishes fly, But, now to please the fairy king, Some wind and tumble like an ape, Till one at last, that Robin hight, And And full against the beam he flung, Where by the back the youth he hung From thence," Reverfe my charm, he cries, "And let it fairly now fuffice "The gambol has been fhown." But Oberon answers with a fmile, "Content thee Edwin for a while, "The vantage is thine own.” Here ended all the phantom-play; The whirling wind that bore the crowd Then fcreaming all at once they fly, Forlorn his state, and dark the place, But foon as Dan Apollo rofe, His honeft tongue and steady mind Which made him want fuccefs. With lufty livelyhed he talks, He feems a dauncing as he walks, And beauteous Edith fees the youth The ftory told, Sir Topaz mov'd, At clofe of eve he leaves his home, As there he bides, it fo befell, Up fpring the tapers as before, But certes forely funk with woe When Oberon crys, "A man is near, Hangs flagging in the sky." With that Sir Topaz, hapless youth! Intreats them pity graunt; For For als he been a mister wight To tread the circled haunt;. "Ah Lofell vile, at once they roar "And little fkill'd of fairie lore, "Thy caufe to come, we know :"Now has thy keftrell courage fell; “ And fairies, fince a lye you tell, "Are free to work thee woe." Then Will, who bears the wifpy fire There, like a tortoife, in a fhop The revel now proceeds apace, They fit, they drink, and eat; The time with frolic mirth beguile, By this the stars began to wink, For never spell by fairie laid With ftrong enchantment bound a glade, Beyond the length of night. |