Playful Poems
ever was so blist.”

p. 97Nymphidia, the Court of Fairy.

p. 97

By MICHAEL DRAYTON.

By

Old Chaucer doth of Topas tell, Mad Rabelais of Pantágruél, A later third of Dowsabel With such poor trifles playing; Others the like have laboured at, Some of this thing and some of that, And many of they knew not what, But what they may be saying.

Old

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 placéd 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 Pass to the earth below it.

The walls of spiders’ legs are made Well mortiséd 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 
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