Till merrie Robin, gerding out
a scape or twaine, did rise,
And, with the wind therof, might seeme,
were cleerd the shepherds eyes:
Who glad he was deliverd so
of them, then vanisht cleene,
Told some, I know not whom, what ye have heard was said and seene*.
* Warners Albions England, London, 1612, 8vo. chap. 91.
NYMPHIDIA: THE COURT OF FAIRY.
OLD Chaucer doth of Topas tell,
Mad Rabelais of Pantagruel,
A latter third of Dowsabel,
With such poor trifles playing : Others the like have labour'd at, Some of this thing, and some of that, And many of they know not what, But that they must be saying.
Another sort there be, that will
Be talking of the fairies still,
Norever' can they have their fill
As they were wedded to them:
No tales of them their thirst can slake,
So much delight therein they take,
And some strange thing they fain would make,
Knew they the way to do them.
Then since no muse hath been so bold,
Or of the later, or the old,
Those elvish secrets to unfold,
Which lie from others reading
My active muse to light shall bring
The court of that proud fairy king,
And tell there of the revelling:
Jove prosper my proceeding.
And thou, Nymphidia, gentle fay,
Which, meeting me upon the way,
These secrets didst to me bewray,
Which now I am in telling:
My pretty, light, fantastic maid,
I here invoke thee to my aid,
That I may speak what thou hast said,
In numbers smoothly swelling.
This palace standeth in the air,
By necromancy placed there,
That it no tempest' needs to fear,
Which way soe'er it blow it:
And somewhat southward tow'rd the noon,
Whence lies a way up to the moon,
And thence the fairy can as soon
Pass to the earth below it.
The walls of spiders legs are made,
Well morticed and finely laid;
He was the master of his trade
It curiously that builded:
The windows of the eyes of cats,
And for the roof, instead of slates,
Is cover'd with the skins of bats,
With moonshine that are gilded.
Hence Oberon, him sport to make,
(Their rest when weary mortals take,
And none but only fairies wake)
Descendeth for his pleasure:
And Mab, his merry queen, by night
Bestrides young folks that lie upright,
(In elder times the mare that hight)
Which plagues them out of measure.
Hence shadows, seeming idle shapes
Of little frisking elves and apes,
To earth do make their wanton scapes,
As hope of pastime hastes them:
Which maids think on the hearth they see,
When fires well-near consumed be,
There dancing hayes by two and three,
Just as their fancy casts them.
These make our girls their slutt'ry rue,
By pinching them both black and blue,
And put a penny in their shoe,
The house for cleanly sweeping:
And in their courses make that round,
In meadows and in marshes found,
Of them so call'd the fairy-ground,
Of which they have the keeping.
These, when a child haps to be got,
Which after proves an idiot,
When folk perceive it thriveth not,
The fault therein to smother,
Some silly doating brainless calf,
That understands things by the half,
'Says' that the fairy left this aulf,
And took away the other.
But listen, and I shall you tell,
A chance in Fairy that befell,
Which, certainly, may please some well,
In love and arms delighting,
Of Oberon, that jealous grew,
Of one of his own fairy crew,
Too well (he fear'd) his queen that knew,
His love but ill requiting.
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