Fairy Tales, Now First Collected/Song 3

by Joseph Ritson

SONG III.

PUCKS NIGHT ADDRESS.

BY SHAKSPEARE.

Now the haughty lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon;Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task fordone.

Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,Puts the wretch, that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shroud.

Now it is the time of night, That the graves, all gaping wide,Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way path, to glide.

And we fairys, that do run, By the triple Hecates team,From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream,Now are frolick; not a mouseShall disturb this hallow'd house:I am sent, with broom, before,To sweep the dust behind the door.^[1]

1. Midsummer-nights Dream.