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The dauncing past, the board was laid,
As heart and lip desire.
And with a wish retire.
But now to please the fairie king,
And antic feats devise;
In Edwin's wond'ring eyes:
Till one at last, that Robin hight,
Has hent him up aloof;
To spraul unneath the roof.
From thence, “Reverse my charna!” he crics, “And let it fairly now suffice
The gambol has been shown.” But Oberon answers with a smile, “Content thee, Edwin, for a while,
The vantage is thine own.”
Here ended all the phantom play;
And heard a cock to crow;
To warn them all to go.
Then screaming all at once they fly,
Poor Edwin falls to floor;
Through all the land before.
But soon as Dan Apollo rose,
He feels his back the less;
Which made him want success.
With lusty livelyhed he talks,
His story soon took wind;
Without a bunch behind.
The story told, Sir Topaz mov'd, The youth of Edith' erst approv'd,
To see the revel scene; At close of eve he leaves his home, And wends to find the ruin'd dome
All on the gloomy plain.
As there he bides, it so besel,
A shaking seiz'd the wall:
And music fills the hall.
But certes, solely sunk with woe,
His spirits in him dye;
« A man is near, A mortal passion, cleeped fear,
Hangs flagging in the sky."
With that Sir Topaz, lapless youth! In accents falt'ring, ay for ruth,
Intreats them pity graunt; “For als he been a mister wight Betray'd by wand'ring in the night
To tread the circled haunt."
« Ah Losell vile!" at once they roar; “ And little skill'd of fairie lore,
Thy cause to come, we know: Now has thy kestrell courage fell; And fairies, since a lye you tell,
Are free to work thee woe."
Then Will, who bears the wispy fire
The captive upward flung;
Where whilome Edwin hung.
The revel now proceeds apace,
They sit, they drink, and eat;
"Till all the rout retreat.
By this the stars began to wink,
And down ydrops the knight;
Beyond the length of night.
Chill, dark, alone, adreed, lie lay,
Then deem'd the dole was o'er:
Which Edwin lost afore.
This tale a Sybil-nurse ared;
And when the tale was done, « Thus some are born, any son,” she cries, With base impediments to rise,
And some are born with none.
But virtue can itself advance
By fortune seem'd design'd:
Upon th' unworthy mind.”