University of Virginia Library

Forenoon.

Enter two Fairies separately.
First.
Greeting, brother!

Second.
Greet thee well!
Has thou any news to tell?
How goes sunshine?

First.
Flowers of noon
All their eyes will open soon,
While ours are closing. What hast done
Since the rising of the sun?

Second.
Four wild snails I've taught their paces,
Pick'd the best ones for the races.
Thou?

First.
Where luscious dewdrops lurk,
I with fifty went to work,
Catching delicious wine that wets
The warm blue heart of violets;
Last moon it was hawthorn flower,
Next moon 'twill be virgin's bower,
Moon by moon, the varied rose,—
To seal in flasks for winter mirth,
When frost and darkness wrap the earth.
Which wine delights you, fay?

Second.
All those;
But none is like the Wine of Rose.
With Wine of Rose
In midst of snows
The sunny season flows and glows!

First.
Elf, thou lovest best, I think,
The time to sit in a cave and drink.

Second.
Is't not well to have good reason,
Thus, for loving every season?
White rose wine
Is pure and fine,
But red-rose dew, dear tipple of mine!
The red flow'rs bud
In our summery blood,
And the nightingale sings in our brain like a wood!

First.
Some who came a-gathering dew,
Tasting, sipping, fresh and new,
Tumbled down, an idle crew,
And there among the grass they lie,
Under a toadstool; any fly
May nip their foolish noses!

Second.
Soon
We shall hear the Call of Noon.

First.
They cannot stir to any tune.
No evening feast for them, be sure,
But far-off sentry on the moor.
Whence that sound of music?—hist!

Second.
Klingoling, chief lutanist,
A hundred song-birds in a ring
Is teaching all this morn to sing
Together featly, so to fill
The wedding-music,—loud and shrill
Soft and sweet, and high and low,
Singled, mingled. He doth know
The art to make a hundred heard
Like one great surprising bird.

First.
Here comes Rosling! He'll report
All the doings of the Court. Enter a Third Fairy.

Greeting, brothers!

First.
Greet thee well!
Hast thou any news to tell?
Our Princess dear, what shadow lies
Drooping on her blissful eyes?
Her suitors plague her!—is it so?

Third.
So in truth it is. But, lo!
Who comes our way? Fairy, whence?
Thou'rt a stranger.

Enter a Fourth Fairy.
Fourth.
No offence,
I trust, altho' my cap is blue,
While yours are green as any leaf.
Courteous fays! No spy or thief
Is here, but one who longs to view
Your famous Forest; chiefly there
Your Princess fair, the praised in song
Wheresoever fairies throng.
Oft you see her?

Third.
Every day.

Fourth.
And is she lovely as they say?

Third.
Thou hast not seen her? Dost thou think
Blue and golden, white and pink,
Could paint the magic of her face?
All common beauty's highest place
Being under hers how far!—

Fourth.
How far?

Third.
A glow-worm to the evening star.

First.
Scarce Klingoling could say so well!
'Tis true: to much she doth excel.
Come, fairy, to our feast to night,
Two hours from sunset; then you may
See the Forest Realm's Delight.

Fourth.
But were it not presumptuous?

First.
Nay,
Thou art, I ween, a gentle fay,
And sure of welcome.

Fourth.
It is said
Her Highness shortly means to wed!

Third.
Next full moon, by fairy law,
She must marry, no escape,
Were it marsh-sprite, kobold, shape
Creeping from earth-hole with horn and claw!

Fourth.
And hath she now a suitor?

Third.
Three;
Bloatling, Rudling, Loftling; she
Loathes them all impartially.
The first is ugly, fat, and rich,
Grandson of a miser witch;
He sends her bossy peonies,
Fat as himself, to please her eyes,
And double poppies, mock flow'rs made
In clumsy gold, for brag display'd;
Ten of the broadest-shoulder'd elves
To carry one must strain themselves.

First.
Ay! so I've seen them.

Second.
This is more.
Than I ever heard before.

Third.
Field-marshal Rudling, soldier fay,
His beard a broom to sweep away
Opposition, with his frown
Biddeth common fairies, “Down!
Down on your knees!” and then his smile,
Our lovely Lady's heart to wile—
Soft as a rat-trap! and his voice—
Angry jay makes no such noise
When bold marauders threat (as you,
Little Jinkling, sometimes do)
Her freckled eggs.

Fourth.
And Loftling?

Third.
True,
Prince Loftling's chin, so grand is he,
Is where another's nose would be;
His proud backbone the wrong way bends
With nobleness. He condescends
To come in state to our poor wood;
And then 'tis always understood
We silence every prattling bird,
Nor must one grasshopper be heard;
Which tasks our people; she, meanwhile,
Our Lady, half dead with his vile
Ceremonial and precision,—
“Madam, with your august permission,
I have the honour to remark—
Ah hum! ah haw!” from dawn to dark.

Fourth.
He will not win her!

Third.
No, no, no!
Dreary the wood if that were so,
Good stranger. But enough, I ween,
Of gossip now.

Fourth.
Kind Caps o' Green,
I thank ye for your courtesies!
Brightkin's my name, my country lies
Round that blue peak your scout espies
From loftiest fir-tree on the skies
Of sunset. So I take my leave
Till the drawing-on of eve.

Third.
They call me Rosling, gentle fay.
Adieu! forget not! here I'll stay
To meet thee and to show the way.

All.
Adieu! adieu! till close of day.