Part IV

The crescent-crowned empress of the flood
Had veiled thrice her face from mortals' sight.
And having thrice in opposition stood
Unto her brother, borrow'd thrice his light
Since that auspicious happy pleasant night,
That beautiful Amanthis first had bin
A bedfellow unto Prince Leoline.

But well away ! for like a man that stands
With unsure footing on the slippery ice.
Or one that builds a house upon the sands,
Such is this world's joy : Fortune in a trice
Can alter so the chances of the dice.
Our clearest day of mirth ere it be past,
With clouds of sorrow oft is overcast.

And now, alas ! quite alter'd is the scene
From joy to sadness, and from weal to woe ;
The purblind goddess Fortune knows no mean.
For either she must raise or overthrow :
Our joy no sooner to the height doth grow,
But either it is taken quite away,
Or like a withering flow'r it doth decay.

Oh you sad daughters of dark Night and Hell,
You Furies three, that shunning of the light,
Among the buried world's pale people dwell,
And guilty consciences with ghosts affright.
Assistants be to that I now must write !
Alecto, with thy dim blue-burning brand.
Lend fatal light to guide my trembling hand :

For cheerful daylight will not lend a beam,
My tear-down-dropping dreary quill to guide,
By which that may be read, which now's my theme,
In dusky clouds the Sun his face will hide,
And to behold these lines will not abide.
For they will make the rosy blushing morrow
Look deadly pale, to see Amanthis sorrow.

For why, it fortun'd so, that the next day
After the masque and revels all were done,
That Leoline as fresh as flowers in May,
To prosecute that victory he had won,
And finish that was happily begun,
Unto the Princess Mellefant he went.
His love and humble service to present.

Whom happily he found (his luck was such
Through his kind favouring star) sitting alone
Upon an imbrocated tissue couch,
Enricht with pearl and many a precious stone :
As then attendants near her there was none
Save only fair Amanthis, who had bin
Discoursing to her of Prince Leoline.

Who seeing him, rose whence that she was set,
And he with low obeisance kist her hand :
' My Lord,' quoth Mellefant, ' since we are met
If 'twere my happiness to understand
The French, that I might know what you command.
And that we two together might confer,
Without Amanthis our interpreter.'

The Prince upon the couch set by her side,
Making his face more lovely with a smile,
In her own language to her thus replied :
'Madam,' quoth he, 'twere pity to beguile
You any longer, for though all this while
I seem'd a Frenchman ; yet truth shall evince,
That I your faithful servant am a Prince.'

Fair Mellefant with sudden joy surpris'd,
A rosy blush her dainty cheeks did stain.
' My Lord,' quoth she, ' although you liv'd disguis'd,
How is it, that so soon you did obtain
Our British tongue?' He answered her again,
' Madam,' quoth he, ' causes must not be sought
Of miracles by your rare beauty wrought.

But wonder not, for though King Dermot's throne
Is sever'd by green Nereus' briny main
From the firm British continent, yet one
Are both the laws and language those retain.
O'er whom the King of Erinland doth reign.
And those, who great King Arvon do obey,
Who doth the old Symerian sceptre sway.

Whose kingdom all those provinces contains
Between swift Deva's streams upon the east.
Who tumbling from the hills frets through the plains,
And great Saint George's Channel on the west,
Where the fierce Ordovices and the rest
Of the ne'er conquer'd warlike Britons bold,
In hills and caves their habitations hold.

Nor hath his spacious kingdom there an end.
But from the stormy northern Ocean's shore,
Unto the fall of Dovy doth extend.
Whose springs from highest mountains falling o'er
Steep rocks, like Nile's loud catadups do roar,
Whose crystal streams along the river's brink
The stout Dimetae, and Silures drink.

Whose ancestors after Deucalion's flood.
First peopled Erinland long time agone,
Whose offspring is deriv'd from Britons' blood,
And is thereof but an extraction :
Now both these nations may again be one ;
And since they are deriv'd from one stem.
They may be joined in one diadem.

If you, most fair of Princesses, shall deign
A kind alliance with the British crown,
And in your bed and bosom entertain
A lover that shall add to your renown :
For such a noble match will make it known
For an undoubted truth, that Princes' hands
Do not alone join hearts, but unite lands.'

To this the beauteous Mellefant replied,
And said, ' Fair Prince, were the election mine,
Your noble motion should not be denied :
For little rhetoric would suffice t' incline
A lady to affect Prince Leoline.
Few words persuade a heart already bent
To amorous thoughts, to give a fit consent.

But my choice is not totally my own,
Wherein we Princes are unfortunate :
Fit suitors to us there are few or none
We must be rul'd by reasons of the state,
Which must our lives and actions regulate :
The country maids are happier than we.
To whom the choice of many swains is free.

But we must woo by picture, and believe,
For all the inward beauties of the mind,
Such lineaments the painter's colours give :
We ought be physiognomers, to find
Whether the soul be well or ill inclin'd :
Besides, when kingdoms do ally as friends,
They know no love, nor kindred, but for ends.

Yet I have had the happiness to see
And to converse with you, wherein I am
More fortunate than other Princes be,
Seeing your person e'er I knew your name :
And now your virtues, greater than your fame,
Needs not the treaties of Embassadors,
To make the heart of Mellefant all yours.

Only my father's leave must be obtain'd,
Ere we our nuptial rites do celebrate,
Whose liking and consent when you have gain'd,
(Wherein I with you may be fortunate)
You are his kingdom's heir, and this whole state
Shall do you homage, and the race that springs
From us shall reign in Erinland as Kings,

And rule those ancient Septs, which heretofore
Had sovereign power, and petit Princes were,
The great O'Neale, O'Dannel and O'More,
O'Rocke, O'Hanlon, and the fierce Macquere,
MacMahon erst begotten of a bear.
Among those woods not pierc't by summer's sun.
Where the swift Shenan, and clear Leffy run.

Under those shades the tall grown kerne, content
With shamrocks and such cates the woods afford,
Seeks neither after meat, nor condiment,
To store his smoky coshery, or board,
But clad in trouses, mantle, with a sword
Hang'd in a weyth, his feltred glib sustains
Without a hat, the weather, when it rains.

The lordly Tanist with his skene and dirk.
Who placeth all felicity in ease,
And hardly gets his lazy churls to work,
Who rather chose to live as savages.
Than with their garrons to break up the lease
Of fertile fields, but do their ploughshares tie
To horses' tails, a barbarous husbandry.

But as it is foretold in prophecies,
Who writ on barks of trees, a maiden Queen
Hereafter Erinland shall civilize.
And quite suppress those savage rites have been
Amongst us, as they never had been seen :
This Queen must of the British blood descend.
Whose fame unto the world's poles shall extend,

Who reigning long, her sex's brightest glory,
All after ages ever shall admire:
True virtue's everlasting type and story.
Who than her, when it can ascend no higher,
She like a virgin Phoenix shall expire.
And if old wizards' ancient saws be true,
'J'his royal Princess must ascend from you.'

Who hath observ'd the gentle western wind,
And seen the fragrant budding damask rose,
How that it spreads and opens, he will find
When Zephyrus' calm breath upon it blows,
Even so the Prince's heart one may suppose
Dilated was with joy within his breast,
Hearing the speeches Mellefant exprest.

To whom with looks and countenance debonaire.
He only made this short, but sweet reply :
' Madam,' quoth he, ' were not you the most fair.
That ever hath bin fam'd in history,
Or shall be seen by late posterity,
There might remain a hope, that there might be
An age hereafter happier than we.

But since that you are Nature's paragon
Not by herself e'er to be parallell'd.
Since Heaven 's the ring, and you the precious stone.
Yet never equall'd, therefore not excell'd,
Those happy eyes that have your form beheld.
Must close themselves in darkness, and despair
Of ever seeing one so heavenly fair.

For when to liberal Nature she had spent
The quintessence of all her precious store,
To make one glorious Phoenix, her intent
Perchance was to have formed two, or more;
But wanting of materials she forbore :
So is she now enforc'd not to make two
Such as yourself, but by dissolving you.

Therefore that glorious Queen of all perfection,
That is foretold in after times to reign.
Will be but of yourself a recollection :
Who Aeson-like, will be reviv'd again ;
For your divinest parts will still remain
Unmixt, and the uniting of your frame
Will alter nothing of you, but your name.

For as a sovereign Prince doth honour give
To 's presence-chamber, though he be not there ;
So you, though for a while you do not live
On earth, but in some bright celestial Sphere,
Yet is your presence-chamber everywhere.
For that it is the whole world here below,
To which your servants do obeisance owe.'

This interchange of courtship 'twixt these lovers
Continued till the day was well near spent.
And Venus setting in the west, discovers
The path and track where Phoebus' chariot went.
To get King Dermot's fatherly consent.
Was now the only business to be done.
To consummate those joys that were begun.

But O you weird stern fatal Sisters three,
O Lachesis, that mortals' threads dost twine !
O influence of stars, that causes be,
Though not compulsive, yet our wills incline :
You yet disclose not to Prince Leoline,
Of this his forward love the sad event,
Nor of his match the strong impediment.

For now Amanthis either must oppose
His marriage, for by her it must be crost,
And consequently must herself disclose,
Or she is utterly undone, and lost.
Thus like a ship 'twixt wind and tide sore tost,
Not knowing how to tack about or veer,
She wanted skill to wield the stern or steer.

For first she thought such was the Prince's truth,
As that he would rejoice that he had found
Amanthis retransform'd from a youth
To Sydanis, whom he believ'd was drown'd.
With double joys their hearts should now be crown'd,
For all the bitterness they both did taste.
Should with contentment sug'red be at last.

And though we be no better for delight
That's done and gone, nor yet the worse for pain,
When it is past, no more than is the sight,
For glorious species, which it did retain:
Or ear for hearing some harsh music strain,
The present being that, which we enjoy,
Whether it be of pleasure, or annoy —

Yet as in dreams the memory suggests
Unto the fantasy things that have been,
But are no more, so a remembrance rests
In her, of all her anguish and her teen ;
And of those sorrowful days that she had seen,
Which like a fearful dream once passed o'er
That 'twas not true makes her rejoice the more.

For she not knowing of the fascination
Was practis'd on the Prince in 's marriage bed,
Might think an over-strong imagination.
Sending venereal spirits to the head,
Had left the part of generation dead,
Too much desire in love being oft a let
And makes that fall, which men upright would set,

But passing that, the Princess having tried
With Leoline, whom she so oft beguil'd,
Completely all the pleasures of a bride.
And by him being young conceiv'd with child,
She thought she should be fully reconcil'd
Unto King Arvon, when it did appear
That Leoline and she both living were :

And that the war King Arvon had begun,
(Of which she had but lately heard) should cease,
She bringing to him a young Prince, a son,
And all should be concluded with a peace.
Before their two old parents did decease.
These pleasant thoughts, like shapes seen in a glass
Set in a street, through her clear soul did pass.

But as in March the sun then shining fair.
Is often by the south wind's stormy blast.
Chasing the clouds, and troubling the air,
With black and gloomy curtains overcast,
Which longer than serenity doth last.
So some sad thoughts o'erspread Amanthis' soul.
Which all her thoughts of pleasure did control.

For to declare herself, she was afraid,
To be the consort of the Prince's bed,
Since she should cross herself, who had averr'd
To Leoline, that Sydanis was dead,
And so for lying should be censured.
Or should as an impostor be accus'd.
Who with false shows had all the Court abus'd.

Besides, this circumstance augments her fear,
If she should say she from Carleon fled.
She must discover what had hap'ned there ;
She knew no other but her Nurse was dead,
For whom her life might well be questioned,
And therefore in this case it her behov'd,
To say something that might not be disprov'd.

But she not knew nor ship, nor Prince's name
Pretended to be shipwreckt, nor could give
Account how she unto Eblana came,
So probably that men might her believe :
This exigent her very soul did grieve.
That she must say it with a serious brow,
That she was come, and yet could not tell how.

Besides, she did imagine if she said
She was Duke Leon's daughter, none did know
Her to be such, and being now no maid.
Though formerly the Prince had left her so.
When from her bridal bed he meant to go,
Though she assumed Sydanis her name.
The Prince might think her like, yet not the same.

Or presuppose Prince Leoline did know
That she was Sydanis, yet having set
His love on Mellefant, he might not show
That he did know her, and so she might get
The reputation of a counterfeit :
Besides, she coming closely to his bed,
She could not prove he got her maidenhead.

Moreover, if all truths should be disclos'd.
And things known really which she did feign.
That all this while Prince Leoline suppos'd
That he with Princess Mellefant had lain :
For such a foul aspersion, and a stain
Cast on her honour, (although not intended)
Fair Mellefant might justly be offended.

And so on every side perplext and grieved,
She of all liars should have the reward,
As when they speak truth not to be believ'd,
She could not easily mend what she had marr'd.
Thus with the woful Sydanis it far'd.
Who trusting overmuch to her disguise,
Falls by it into these calamities.

O aged father Time's fair daughter. Truth,
Of all divine intelligences best,
What Sages erst have said of thee is sooth,
Thou hast a window made in thy white breast,
And art most lovely when thou art undrest.
Thou seek'st no corners thy bright self to hide,
Nor blushest though thou naked art espied.

Thou needst not a fucus or disguise.
To cover thee thou putt'st on no new fashion,
Nor with false semblance dost delude men's eyes.
Like thy base zany, damn'd Equivocation,
Thou want'st no comment, nor interpretation,
And for maintaining thee, though men be blam'd
And suffer for a while, yet ne'er art sham'd.

Yet what thou art must not always be told.
For 'tis convenient thou thyself should'st hide,
Till thy old Sire thy beauties do unfold :
Then as pure gold upon the touchstone tried,
That finer's hottest furnace doth abide.
Or like a palm-tree thou dost flourish best,
When thou hast bin by ignorance supprest.

And so although necessity requir'd
That truth of things should now be brought to light,
That period of time was not expir'd,
Wherein this Lady Sydanis the bright
Should show herself, for which she often sight.
Who now with showers of tears her eyes had made,
As if two suns in watery clouds did wade.

But as the lily whenas Bartholomew,
Summer's last Saint, hath ushered in the frost,
Wet, with the long night's cold, and chilly dew.
Her lustre and her verdure both are lost.
And seems to us as she were dead almost :
So grief and sorrow quickly did impair
The lovely face of Sydanis the fair,

Who weeps away her eyes in pearly showers,
Rais'd by her sighs, as by a southern wind.
She prays to Venus and the heavenly powers,
That they in their high providence would find
Some means to ease her sad and troubled mind :
And though despair unto the height was grown,
She might enjoy that yet, which was her own,

Her prayers are heard, for the next dawning day
Prince Leoline and Mellefant both went
(True love not brooking any long delay)
Unto King Dermot, with a full intent
To ask and get his fatherly consent.
These Princes' loves on wings of hope did fly,
That the King neither could, or would deny.

But their design they brought to no effect,
Being commenc't in an unlucky hour,
No planet being in his course direct.
And Saturn who his children doth devour
From his north-east dark adamantine tower
Beheld the waning moon and retrograde,
A time unfit for such affairs had made.

They should have made election of a day
Was fortunate, and fit to speak with Kings,
When the King's planet, Sol's propitious ray.
Who great affairs to a wisht period brings,
And is predominant in all such things ;
When Jupiter aspecting with the trine.
His daughter Venus did benignly shine.

This was the cause proceeding from above,
Which clerks do call inevitable fate :
That was the hindrance of these Princes' love,
And made them in their suit unfortunate :
But yet there was another cause of state,
Which was so main an obstacle and let,
That they the King's consent could never get.

For that Embassador which lieger lay,
Sent to Eblana in King Albion's name,
Who as you heard was feasted that same day
That to the court Prince Leoline first came,
And Mellefant conceiv'd her amorous flame,
A treaty of a marriage had begun
For her, with Prince Androgios, Albion's son ;

And had so far advanc't it, that the King
With all his privy council's approbation,
Had condescended unto everything
That might concern the weal of either nation :
For this alliance would lay a foundation
Of a firm future peace, and would put down
That enmity was erst 'twixt either crown.

And now the time prefixt was come so near
Th' Embassador had got intelligence,
Within ten days Androgios would be there
In person, his own love-suit to commence,
And consummate with all magnificence
His marriage, and perform those nuptial rites
Wherein bright Cytherea so delights.

This weigh'd. King Dermot could not condescend,
Nor give way to Prince Leoline's aff'ection,
Unless he should Androgios offend,
Who now of his alliance made election,
The breach whereof might cause an insurrection
Among his people, if that they should see
Him break a King's word, which should sacred be.

And now although Prince Leoline repented
He ever love to Mellefant profest,
Yet because no man should go discontented
From a great King, he as a Princely guest
Was us'd with all the noblest, fairest, best
Respects of courtesy, and entertain'd
While that he in King Dermot's court remain'd.

But like to one that's into prison cast,
Though he enjoy both of the eye and ear
All choicest objects, and although he taste
Ambrosial cates ; yet while that he is there
Wanting his liberty, which is most dear.
He nothing relishes, for nothing cares,
Even so now with Prince Leoline it fares.

Who now disconsolate, and being barr'd
All hopes of marrying Mellefant the fair,
Missing that aim he nothing did regard,
And since he must not be King Dermot's heir,
He thought that nought that damage could repair,
Himself as one he captivated deem'd,
And Dermot's court to him a prison seem'd.

Now as a tempest from the sea doth rise,
Within his mind arose this stormy thought,
How that the Princess justly might despise
His cowardice, who by all means had sought
To win her love, if he not having sought
A combat with Androgios, he should go
Or steal away from her that lov'd him so.

Although to fight, no valour he did want,
Nor wisht a nobler way his life to end.
If vanquisht he should lose both Mellefant
And he King Dermot highly should offend.
Who all this while had bin his royal friend.
Love well begun should have a bad conclusion,
And kindness find an unkind retribution.

But more, if he should secretly attempt
By means to take King Dermot's life away,
Nothing his guilty conscience would exempt
From terror that so foully would betray,
Fowls of the air such treason would bewray :
For ravens by their croking would disclose
(Pecking the earth) such horrid acts as those.

If he with Mellefant away should steal.
And carry her where they might not be found.
Yet time at last such secrets would reveal :
For by that act he should her honour wound.
Who for her modesty had bin renown'd,
And he than Paris should no better speed,
Of whose sad end you may in Dares read.

One while in him these noble thoughts had place,
Which did reflect on honourable fame :
Another while he thought how that in case
He stole away, men could not him more blame,
Then erst Aeneas, who had done the same
To Dido, and that very course had taken,
Leaving the lovely Carthage Queen forsaken.

Injurious Story, which not only serv'st
To keep the names of heroes from rust,
But in thy brazen register preserv'st
The memories, and acts of men unjust,
Which otherwise had bin buried with their dust,
But for thy black dark soul there no man had
Examples to avoid for what is bad.

For had it not in annals bin recorded,
That Theseus from the Minotaur was freed
By Ariadne, time had not afforded
A precedent for such a horrid deed.
For when King Minos' daughter had agreed
To steal away with him, his beauteous theft,
Asleep on Naxos desert's rocks he left.

An act deserving hell's black imprecation
So cruel, that it cannot be exprest.
To leave a princely lady in such fashion.
That had receiv'd him to her bed and breast.
All after ages should this fact detest :
For this his treason render'd him all o'er
A greater monster than the Minotaur.

Returning home to Greece he had not taught
Demophon, by fair Phaedra his false son,
When he had King Lycurgus' daughter brought
Unto his bowe, and her affection won.
Perfidiously away from her to run,
Leaving fair Phillis, and so caus'd that she
Did hang herself upon an almond tree.

Yet these examples scarce mov'd Leoline,
And scarce his resolution chang'd at all
For Mellefant, for he could not divine,
If she by tasting sorrow's bitter'st gall,
Upon the sharp point of a sword should fall :
Or Phillis-like, impatient of delay,
Would with a halter make herself away.

It may be she like Ariadne might
(Though she her virgin bloom had Theseus given)
Marry god Bacchus, and her tresses bright
Be afterward exalted up to heaven,
There for to shine among the planets seven :
For justice is not so severe and strict
As death on all offenders to inflict.

Besides he did remember, should he look
On authors, he should many women find,
That had their loves, and paramours forsook,
And prov'd to them unconstant, and unkind.
'Mongst other stories he did call to mind
That of the fairy Creseid, who instead
Of faithful Troilus lov'd false Diomed.

And if there were as many women found
As men, in love unconstant, and untrue,
He thought, that he in conscience was not bound
To render love for love, but while 'twas due,
And so might leave an old love for a new;
Besides he thought Androgios might be
A braver, and a comelier man than he.

And being higher both in birth and place
Then he, and heir to a more ancient crown,
He thought that Mellefant in such a case
Will do like women, all prefer their own
Pre-eminence, precedence, and renown.
And so she in a short time would forget
All that affection she on him had set.

And as for Prince Androgios, though he could
Have wisht he had not Mellefant defil'd,
With whom he thought that he had bin too bold :
Yet if 'twere so, that she was not with child,
The Prince as other men might be beguil'd,
As surf'ting water, or such art might hide
Secrets by midwives not to be descried.

And therefore he resolved not to fight,
Unless Androgios challeng'd him, for so
Such privacies he thought might come to light,
That were unfit for any man to know.
He therefore did determine he would go
Unto Carnarvon, and there would abide.
Till fortune show'd what after should betide.

Our purposes, and things which we intend,
Have not subsistence of themselves alone.
For on the heavenly powers they do depend,
As the earth gives birth to every seed is sown,
Which after to maturity is grown :
For stars not only form all our intents,
But shape the means to further the events.

For now to further this his resolution.
Those stars, which at his birth benignly shone
In his first house, by annual revolution,
Unto his mirth, the House of Dreams was gone,
Of journeys and peregrination
Significator, and the Moon now new,
To Phoebus' bosom her dark self withdrew.

All this conspir'd to further a design
Which Sydanis resolv'd to put in act,
For understanding by Prince Leoline
That there had never bin any contract
'Twixt him and Mellefant, she nothing lackt
But some fine neat device, whereof the doing
Should be the cause of Leoline's speedy going.

For he once being from Eblana gone,
It was her resolution and intent
(In claim of that which justly was her own)
To follow him wherever that he went,
All thoughts of future marriage to prevent ;
For rather than endure such storms as those
She had abid, herself she would disclose.

And thus it hap't, when from the frozen North
Night and her consort dull dew-dropping Sleep
Arose, and drowsy Morpheus had let forth
Fantastic dreams which he in caves doth keep,
When mortals all their cares in Lethe steep,
And darkness with Cimmerian foggy damp,
Extinguisht for a while heaven's glorious lamp.

What time the silent hours their wheels had driven
Over the sable clouds of dusky night,
And were arriv'd as high as the mid-heaven,
Dividing from the hemisphere of light,
The other half in robes of darkness dight :
As Leoline lay sleeping in his bed,
A pleasant vision did possess his head.

He dreamt he saw Duke Leon's palace, where
There was all pomp and bravery exprest.
All objects might delight the eye or ear
With preparation for a sumptuous feast.
Which unto Coelum's honour was addrest.
For in a temple, that was high and wide.
He thought he first Duke Leon had descried.

Kneeling he seem'd by the high altar's side
With eyes upcast, and hands to heaven upspread,
All which the Duke devoutly having ey'd,
High in the clouds appeared overhead
Jove's mighty eagle carrying Ganymede,
Who gently down descending from above,
Did seem as sent unto the Duke from Jove.

Lighting upon the ground the Eagle set
Her lovely load, in presence of the Duke,
Which eftsoons did a wonder strange beget,
For while he steadfastly did on it look,
The person that for Ganymede he took.
Was Sydanis his daughter, and so seem'd
Unto the sleeping Prince, who of her dream'd.

From whom as now the Eagle was to part,
And touring to return up to the skies.
She suddenly seiz'd on Sydanis her heart.
And having rent it out away she flies :
This sight with such a horror did surprise
The sleeping Prince, that every member quakes,
And in a cold sweat Leoline awakes.

Awak't with fear Prince Leoline beheld
A stranger and a far more ominous sight,
Which all his dream and fantasies expell'd,
For by his bedside in a glimmering light
Stood Sydanis in fairy habit dight,
To whom she did a low obeisance make,
And afterwards to this effect she spake.

' Illustrious Prince,' quoth she, ' whom various Fate,
Guiding the helm of thy affairs in love,
Did first make happy, then unfortunate.
Yet at the last to thee will constant prove.
And will eftsoons those errors all remove,
Which heretofore have been, or else may be,
Impediments to thy felicity.

Fate wills not that thou longer shouldst remain
In false belief, thy Sydanis is dead,
Or that thou with fair Mellefant hast lain,
Or hast enjoy'd her virgin maidenhead.
'Twas I by night came to thee in her stead.
Who am a Fairy, an inhabitant
Of another world, for 'twas not Mellefant.

For 'twixt the centre and circumference
Of this great globe of earth, Prince, thou shalt know
There is another fairy world, from whence
We through the earth, as men through air, do go
Without resistance passing to and fro,
Having nor sun, nor moon, but a blue light,
Which makes no difference 'twixt our day and night.

In this our world there is not a thing here.
Upon this globe of earth, man, woman, tree.
Plant, herb, or flower, but just the same is there,
So like it hardly can distinguisht be.
Either in colour, or in shape, for we
Are all aerial phantoms, and are fram'd,
As pictures of you, and are Fairies nam'd.

And as you mortals we participate
Of all the like affections of the mind.
We joy, we grieve, we fear, we love, we hate,
And many times forsaken our own kind,
We are in league with mortals so combin'd,
As that in dreams we lie with them by night,
Begetting children, which do Changelings hight.

To those we love, and in whom we take pleasure,
From diamantine chests we use to bring
Gold, jewels, and whole heaps of fairy treasure,
Sums that may be the ransom of a king ;
On those we hate, we many times do fling
Blindness, and lameness, that unhallow'd go
To crop of fairy branch, the mistletoe.

Amongst us is thy Sydanis, of whom
I am the Genius, for erst so it chanc't,
As flying from Carleon, she did come.
And too near our fairy rounds advanc't,
Whereas at midnight we the Fairies danc't ;
King Oberon straight seiz'd her as his prey.
As Pluto erst took Proserpine away :

And carrying her down to Fairy-land,
Hath on a downy couch laid her to sleep,
With orange blossoms strow'd, with a command.
Queen Mab, and all her Elves should safe her keep,
Till thou repassing o'er the briny deep,
Shalt to King Arvon thy old sire return.
Whom causeless thou so long hast made to mourn.

Which if you do not instantly perform,
Black elves shall pinch thee, goblins shall affright
Thy restless soul ; at sea an hideous storm.
With death's black darkness, shall thy days benight.'
Having thus said, that borrow'd beam of light.
Which as you heard did from the stone arise,
Vanisht, and hid her from the Prince's eyes.

Who now believing he had seen an Elf,
A messenger by Oberon employ'd.
He forthwith rose, and eftsoons drest himself
(The better all suspicion to avoid)
In a black habit of his Squire Ffloyd,
And ere the sun toucht the east horizon.
Putting to sea, he out of ken was gone.