For they were numbed with holding all the day
An hatchet keen, with which he felled wood,
And from the trees did lop the needless spray ;
Upon a huge great earth-pot steane he stood,
From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the Roman flood.
And lastly came old February, sitting
In an old waggon, for he could not ride, Drawn of two fishes, for the season fitting, Which through the flood before did softly slide And swim away; yet had he by his side His plough and harness fit to till the ground, And tools to prune the trees, before the pride Of hasting prime did make them burgeon round, So past the Twelve Months forth, and their due places found.
And after these there came the Day and Night,
Riding together both with equal pace;
Th' one on a palfrey black, the other white;
But Night had covered her uncomely face
With a black veil, and held in hand a mace,
On top whereof the moon and stars were plight,
And Sleep and Darkness round about did trace;
But Day did bear upon his sceptre's height
The goodly sun, encompassed all with beames bright.
Then came the Hours, fair daughters of high Jove,
And timely Night, the which were all endued
With wondrous beauty, fit to kindle love;
But they were virgins all, and love eschewed,
That might forslack the charge to them forshowed, By mighty Jove, who did them porters make
Of heaven's gate, (whence all the gods issued),
Which they did daily watch and nightly wake
By even turns, nor ever did their charge forsake.
And after all came Life, and ghastly Death;
Death with most grim and grisly visage seen,
Yet he is nought but parting of the breath;
Ne ought to see, but like a shade to ween,
Unbodied, unsouled, unheard, unseen;
But Life was like a fair, young lusty boy,
Such as they feign Dan Cupid to have been,
Full of delightful health and lovely joy,
Decked all with flowers, and wings of gold fit to employ.
Singing and dancing being all their pleasure, They'll please you most nicely, if you be at leisure; To hear their sweet chanting, it will you delight, To cure melancholy at morning and night.
Come, follow, follow me,
You Fairy elves that be:
And circle round this green,
Come follow me your queen,
Hand in hand let's dance around,
For this place is Fairy ground.
When mortals are at rest,
And snoring in their nest,
Unheard or unespied,
Through keyhole we do glide:
Over tables, stools and shelves
We trip it with our Fairy elves.
And if the house be foul,
Of platter, dish, or bowl,
Up stairs we nimbly creep,
And find the sluts asleep;
Then we pinch their arms and thighs,
None escapes, nor none espies.
But if the house be swept,
And from uncleanness kept,
We praise the house and maid;
And surely she is paid;
For we do use before we go
To drop a tester in her shoe.
Upon the mushroom's head,
Our table-cloth we spread,
A grain of the finest wheat
Is manchet that we eat;
The pearly drops of dew we drink
In acorn-cups filled to the brink.
The tongues of nightingales,
With unctuous juice of snails,
Betwixt two nutshells strewed,
Is meat that's easily chewed;
The brains of rennes, the beards of mice,
Will make a feast of wondrous price.
Over the tender grass
So lightly we can pass,
The young and tender stalk
Ne'er bows whereon we walk,
Nor in the morning dew is seen
Over-night where we have been.
The grasshopper, gnat and fly,
Serve for our minstrels three,
And sweetly dance awhile
Till we the time beguile;
And when the moon-calf hides her head,
The glow-worm lights us unto bed.
THE KING OF THE CROCODILES.
"Now, woman, why without your veil ?
And wherefore do you look so pale?
And woman, why do you groan so sadly?
And wherefore beat your bosom madly?"
"Oh, I have lost my darling boy
In whom my soul had all its joy;
And I for sorrow have torn my veil,
And sorrow hath made my very heart pale.
Oh, I have lost my darling child,
And that's the loss that makes me wild;
He stooped by the river down to drink,
And there was a crocodile by the brink.
“He did not venture in to swim,
He only stooped to drink at the brim ;
But under the reeds the crocodile lay,
And struck with his tail and swept him away.
"Now take me in your boat, I pray,
For down the river lies my way,
And me to the Reed Islands bring,
For I will go to the Crocodile King.
"He reigns not now in Crocodilople,
Proud as the Turk at Constantinople;
No ruins of his great city remain ;
The Island of Reeds is his whole domain.
"Like a dervise there he passes his days,
Turns up his eyes, and fasts, and prays;
And being grown pious and meek and mild,
He now never eats man, woman, nor child.
"The King of the Crocodiles never does wrong, He has no tail so stiff and strong,
He has no tail to strike and slay,
But he has ears to hear what I say.
|