Part 12 (2/2)
Whereat the poor Wasp quaking
Cries, ”Oberon, great Fairy King, Content thee, I am no such thing: I am a Wasp, behold my sting!”
At which the Fairy started; When soon away the Wasp doth go, Poor wretch, was never frighted so; He thought his wings were much too slow, O'erjoyed they so were parted.
He next upon a Glow-worm light, You must suppose it now was night, Which, for her hinder part was bright, He took to be a devil, And furiously doth her a.s.sail For carrying fire in her tail; He thrashed her rough coat with his flail; The mad King feared no evil.
”Oh!” quoth the Glow-worm, ”hold thy hand, Thou puissant King of Fairy-land!
Thy mighty strokes who may withstand?
Hold, or of life despair I!”
Together then herself doth roll, And tumbling down into a hole She seemed as black as any coal; Which vext away the Fairy.
From thence he ran into a hive: Amongst the bees he letteth drive, And down their combs begins to rive, All likely to have spoiled, Which with their wax his face besmeared, And with their honey daubed his beard: It would have made a man afeared To see how he was moiled.
A new adventure him betides; He met an Ant, which he bestrides, And post thereon away he rides, Which with his haste doth stumble; And came full over on her snout, Her heels so threw the dirt about, For she by no means could get out, But over him doth tumble.
And being in this piteous case, And all be-slurred head and face, On runs he in this wild-goose chase, As here and there he rambles; Half blind, against a mole-hill hit, And for a mountain taking it, For all he was out of his wit Yet to the top he scrambles.
And being gotten to the top, Yet there himself he could not stop, But down on th' other side doth chop, And to the foot came rumbling; So that the grubs, therein that bred, Hearing such turmoil over head, Thought surely they had all been dead; So fearful was the jumbling.
And falling down into a lake, Which him up to the neck doth take, His fury somewhat it doth slake; He calleth for a ferry; Where you may some recovery note; What was his club he made his boat, And in his oaken cup doth float, As safe as in a wherry.
Men talk of the adventures strange Of Don Quixoit, and of their change Through which he armed oft did range, Of Sancho Pancha's travel; But should a man tell every thing Done by this frantic Fairy King, And them in lofty numbers sing, It well his wits might gravel.
Scarce set on sh.o.r.e, but therewithal He meeteth Puck, which most men call Hobgoblin, and on him doth fall, With words from frenzy spoken: ”Oh, oh,” quoth Hob, ”G.o.d save thy grace!
Who drest thee in this piteous case?
He thus that spoiled my sovereign's face, I would his neck were broken!”
This Puck seems but a dreaming dolt, Still walking like a ragged colt, And oft out of a bush doth bolt, Of purpose to deceive us; And leading us makes us to stray, Long winter's nights, out of the way; And when we stick in mire and clay, Hob doth with laughter leave us.
”Dear Puck,” quoth he, ”my wife is gone: As e'er thou lov'st King Oberon, Let everything but this alone, With vengeance and pursue her; Bring her to me alive or dead, Or that vile thief, Pigwiggin's head, That villain hath [my Queen misled]; He to this folly drew her.”
Quoth Puck, ”My liege, I'll never lin, But I will thorough thick and thin, Until at length I bring her in; My dearest lord, ne'er doubt it.”
Thorough brake, thorough briar, Thorough muck, thorough mire, Thorough water, thorough fire; And thus goes Puck about it.
This thing Nymphidia overheard, That on this mad king had a guard, Not doubting of a great reward, For first this business broaching; And through the air away doth go, Swift as an arrow from the bow, To let her sovereign Mab to know What peril was approaching.
The Queen, bound with Love's powerful charm, Sate with Pigwiggin arm in arm; Her merry maids, that thought no harm, About the room were skipping; A humble-bee, their minstrel, played Upon his hautboy, every maid Fit for this revel was arrayed, The hornpipe neatly tripping.
In comes Nymphidia, and doth cry, ”My sovereign, for your safety fly, For there is danger but too nigh; I posted to forewarn you: The King hath sent Hobgoblin out, To seek you all the fields about, And of your safety you may doubt, If he but once discern you.”
When, like an uproar in a town, Before them everything went down; Some tore a ruff, and some a gown, 'Gainst one another justling; They flew about like chaff i' th' wind; For haste some left their masks behind; Some could not stay their gloves to find; There never was such bustling.
Forth ran they, by a secret way, Into a brake that near them lay; Yet much they doubted there to stay, Lest Hob should hap to find them; He had a sharp and piercing sight, All one to him the day and night; And therefore were resolved, by flight, To leave this place behind them.
At length one chanced to find a nut, In th' end of which a hole was cut, Which lay upon a hazel root, There scattered by a squirrel Which out the kernel gotten had; When quoth this Fay, ”Dear Queen, be glad; Let Oberon be ne'er so mad, I'll set you safe from peril.
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