Fairy Tales, Now First Collected/Song 3

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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.

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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 mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house:
I am sent, with broom, before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.[1]

  1. ↑ Midsummer-nights Dream.
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