Playful Poems Part 12

Another sort there be, that will Be talking of the Fairies still, For never 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'rds the noon, Whence lies a way up to the moon, And thence the Fairy can as soon Pa.s.s to the earth below it.

The walls of spiders' legs are made Well mortised and finely laid; It was the master of his trade It curiously that builded; The windows of the eyes of cats, And for the roof, instead of slats, Is covered 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-nigh consumed be, There dancing hays by two and three, {98} Just as their fancy casts them.

These make our girls their s.l.u.ttery 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 called 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, doting, brainless calf That understands things by the half, Say that the Fairy left this oaf And took away the other.

But listen, and I shall you tell A chance in Faery 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 feared, his Queen that knew, His love but ill requiting.

Pigwiggin was this Fairy Knight, One wondrous gracious in the sight Of fair Queen Mab, which day and night He amorously observed; Which made King Oberon suspect His service took too good effect, His sauciness had often checkt, And could have wished him sterved.

Pigwiggin gladly would commend Some token to Queen Mab to send, If sea or land him aught could lend Were worthy of her wearing; At length this lover doth devise A bracelet made of emmets' eyes, A thing he thought that she would prize, No whit her state impairing.

And to the Queen a letter writes, Which he most curiously indites, Conjuring her by all the rites Of love, she would be pleased To meet him, her true servant, where They might, without suspect or fear, Themselves to one another clear And have their poor hearts eased.

At midnight, the appointed hour; "And for the Queen a fitting bower,"

Quoth he, "is that fair cowslip flower On Hient Hill that bloweth; {100} In all your train there's not a fay That ever went to gather may But she hath made it, in her way, The tallest there that groweth."

When by Tom Thumb, a Fairy Page, He sent it, and doth him engage By promise of a mighty wage It secretly to carry; Which done, the Queen her maids doth call, And bids them to be ready all: She would go see her summer hall, She could no longer tarry.

Her chariot ready straight is made, Each thing therein is fitting laid, That she by nothing might be stayed, For nought must be her letting; Four nimble gnats the horses were, Their harnesses of gossamere, Fly Cranion the charioteer Upon the coach-box getting.

Her chariot of a snail's fine sh.e.l.l, Which for the colours did excel, The fair Queen Mab becoming well, So lively was the limning; The seat the soft wool of the bee, The cover, gallantly to see, The wing of a pied b.u.t.terfly; I trow 'twas simple tr.i.m.m.i.n.g.

The wheels composed of cricket's bones, And daintily made for the nonce, For fear of rattling on the stones With thistle-down they shod it; For all her maidens much did fear If Oberon had chanced to hear That Mab his Queen should have been there, He would not have abode it.

She mounts her chariot with a trice, Nor would she stay, for no advice, Until her maids that were so nice To wait on her were fitted; But ran herself away alone, Which when they heard, there was not one But hasted after to be gone, As he had been diswitted.

Hop and Mop and Drop so clear, Pip and Trip and Skip that were To Mab, their sovereign, ever dear, Her special maids of honour; Fib and Tib and Pink and Pin, Tick and Quick and Jill and Jin, t.i.t and Nit and Wap and Win, The train that wait upon her.

Upon a gra.s.shopper they got And, what with amble, what with trot, For hedge and ditch they spared not, But after her they hie them; A cobweb over them they throw, To shield the wind if it should blow, Themselves they wisely could bestow Lest any should espy them.

But let us leave Queen Mab awhile, Through many a gate, o'er many a stile, That now had gotten by this wile, Her dear Pigwiggin kissing; And tell how Oberon doth fare, Who grew as mad as any hare When he had sought each place with care, And found his Queen was missing.

By grisly Pluto he doth swear, He rent his clothes and tore his hair, And as he runneth here and there An acorn cup he greeteth, Which soon he taketh by the stalk, About his head he lets it walk, Nor doth he any creature balk, But lays on all he meeteth.

The Tuscan Poet doth advance, The frantic Paladin of France, And those more ancient do enhance Alcides in his fury, And others Aiax Telamon, But to this time there hath been none So Bedlam as our Oberon, Of which I dare a.s.sure ye.

And first encountering with a Wasp, He in his arms the fly doth clasp As though his breath he forth would grasp, Him for Pigwiggin taking: "Where is my wife, thou rogue?" quoth be; "Pigwiggin, she is come to thee; Restore her, or thou diest by me!"

Whereat the poor Wasp quaking

Cries, "Oberon, great Fairy King, Content thee, I am no such thing: I am a Wasp, behold my sting!"

At which the Fairy started; When soon away the Wasp doth go, Poor wretch, was never frighted so; He thought his wings were much too slow, O'erjoyed they so were parted.

He next upon a Glow-worm light, You must suppose it now was night, Which, for her hinder part was bright, He took to be a devil, And furiously doth her a.s.sail For carrying fire in her tail; He thrashed her rough coat with his flail; The mad King feared no evil.

"Oh!" quoth the Glow-worm, "hold thy hand, Thou puissant King of Fairy-land!

Thy mighty strokes who may withstand?

Hold, or of life despair I!"

Together then herself doth roll, And tumbling down into a hole She seemed as black as any coal; Which vext away the Fairy.

From thence he ran into a hive: Amongst the bees he letteth drive, And down their combs begins to rive, All likely to have spoiled, Which with their wax his face besmeared, And with their honey daubed his beard: It would have made a man afeared To see how he was moiled.

A new adventure him betides; He met an Ant, which he bestrides, And post thereon away he rides, Which with his haste doth stumble; And came full over on her snout, Her heels so threw the dirt about, For she by no means could get out, But over him doth tumble.

And being in this piteous case, And all be-slurred head and face, On runs he in this wild-goose chase, As here and there he rambles; Half blind, against a mole-hill hit, And for a mountain taking it, For all he was out of his wit Yet to the top he scrambles.

And being gotten to the top, Yet there himself he could not stop, But down on th' other side doth chop, And to the foot came rumbling; So that the grubs, therein that bred, Hearing such turmoil over head, Thought surely they had all been dead; So fearful was the jumbling.

And falling down into a lake, Which him up to the neck doth take, His fury somewhat it doth slake; He calleth for a ferry; Where you may some recovery note; What was his club he made his boat, And in his oaken cup doth float, As safe as in a wherry.

Men talk of the adventures strange Of Don Quixoit, and of their change Through which he armed oft did range, Of Sancho Pancha's travel; But should a man tell every thing Done by this frantic Fairy King, And them in lofty numbers sing, It well his wits might gravel.

Scarce set on sh.o.r.e, but therewithal He meeteth Puck, which most men call Hobgoblin, and on him doth fall, With words from frenzy spoken: "Oh, oh," quoth Hob, "G.o.d save thy grace!

Who drest thee in this piteous case?

He thus that spoiled my sovereign's face, I would his neck were broken!"

This Puck seems but a dreaming dolt, Still walking like a ragged colt, And oft out of a bush doth bolt, Of purpose to deceive us; And leading us makes us to stray, Long winter's nights, out of the way; And when we stick in mire and clay, Hob doth with laughter leave us.

"Dear Puck," quoth he, "my wife is gone: As e'er thou lov'st King Oberon, Let everything but this alone, With vengeance and pursue her; Bring her to me alive or dead, Or that vile thief, Pigwiggin's head, That villain hath [my Queen misled]; He to this folly drew her."

Quoth Puck, "My liege, I'll never lin, But I will thorough thick and thin, Until at length I bring her in; My dearest lord, ne'er doubt it."

Thorough brake, thorough briar, Thorough muck, thorough mire, Thorough water, thorough fire; And thus goes Puck about it.

This thing Nymphidia overheard, That on this mad king had a guard, Not doubting of a great reward, For first this business broaching; And through the air away doth go, Swift as an arrow from the bow, To let her sovereign Mab to know What peril was approaching.

The Queen, bound with Love's powerful charm, Sate with Pigwiggin arm in arm; Her merry maids, that thought no harm, About the room were skipping; A humble-bee, their minstrel, played Upon his hautboy, every maid Fit for this revel was arrayed, The hornpipe neatly tripping.

In comes Nymphidia, and doth cry, "My sovereign, for your safety fly, For there is danger but too nigh; I posted to forewarn you: The King hath sent Hobgoblin out, To seek you all the fields about, And of your safety you may doubt, If he but once discern you."

When, like an uproar in a town, Before them everything went down; Some tore a ruff, and some a gown, 'Gainst one another justling; They flew about like chaff i' th' wind; For haste some left their masks behind; Some could not stay their gloves to find; There never was such bustling.

Forth ran they, by a secret way, Into a brake that near them lay; Yet much they doubted there to stay, Lest Hob should hap to find them; He had a sharp and piercing sight, All one to him the day and night; And therefore were resolved, by flight, To leave this place behind them.

At length one chanced to find a nut, In th' end of which a hole was cut, Which lay upon a hazel root, There scattered by a squirrel Which out the kernel gotten had; When quoth this Fay, "Dear Queen, be glad; Let Oberon be ne'er so mad, I'll set you safe from peril.