This is that very MabThat plats the manes of horses in the night;And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,Which once untangled, much misfortune bode.This is the hag,[397]when maids lie on their backs,That presses them.
This is that very MabThat plats the manes of horses in the night;And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,Which once untangled, much misfortune bode.This is the hag,[397]when maids lie on their backs,That presses them.
In an exquisite and well-known passage of the Tempest, higher and more awful powers are ascribed to the Elves: Prospero declares that by their aid he has "bedimmed the noon-tide sun;" called forth the winds and thunder; set roaring war "'twixt the green sea and the azured vault;" shaken promontories, and plucked up pines and cedars. He thus invokes them:—
Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;[398]And ye, that on the sands with printless footDo chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him,When he comes back; you demi-puppets thatBy moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make,Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastimeIs to make midnight-mushrooms,that rejoiceTo hear the solemn curfew.
Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;[398]And ye, that on the sands with printless footDo chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him,When he comes back; you demi-puppets thatBy moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make,Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastimeIs to make midnight-mushrooms,that rejoiceTo hear the solemn curfew.
The other dramas of Shakspeare present a few more characteristic traits of the Fairies, which should not be omitted.
Some say that ever 'gainst that season comesWherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,This bird of dawning singeth all night long;And then they say no spirit dares stir abroad;The nights are wholesome; then no planet strikes,No fairy takes,[399]no witch hath power to charm,So hallow'd and so gracious is that time.Hamlet, Act. i. sc. 1.
Some say that ever 'gainst that season comesWherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,This bird of dawning singeth all night long;And then they say no spirit dares stir abroad;The nights are wholesome; then no planet strikes,No fairy takes,[399]no witch hath power to charm,So hallow'd and so gracious is that time.Hamlet, Act. i. sc. 1.
King Henry IV. wishes it could be proved,
That some night-tripping fairy had exchangedIn cradle-clothes our children where they lay,And called mine—Percy, his—Plantagenet!
That some night-tripping fairy had exchangedIn cradle-clothes our children where they lay,And called mine—Percy, his—Plantagenet!
The old shepherd in the Winter's Tale, when he finds Perdita, exclaims,
It was told me, I should be rich, by the fairies: this is some changeling.
It was told me, I should be rich, by the fairies: this is some changeling.
And when his son tells him it is gold that is within the "bearing-cloth," he says,
This is fairy-gold, boy, and 'twill prove so. We are lucky, boy, andto be so still requires nothing but secresy.[400]
This is fairy-gold, boy, and 'twill prove so. We are lucky, boy, andto be so still requires nothing but secresy.[400]
In Cymbeline, the innocent Imogen commits herself to sleep with these words:—
To your protection I commit me, gods!From fairies and the tempters of the night,Guard me, beseech ye!
To your protection I commit me, gods!From fairies and the tempters of the night,Guard me, beseech ye!
And when the two brothers see her in their cave, one cries—
But that it eats our victuals, I should thinkHere were a fairy.
But that it eats our victuals, I should thinkHere were a fairy.
And thinking her to be dead, Guiderius declares—
If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,And worms will not come to thee.
If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,And worms will not come to thee.
The Maydes Metamorphosis of Lylie was acted in 1600, the year the oldest edition we possess of the Midsummer Night's Dream was printed. In Act II. of this piece, Mopso, Joculo, and Frisio are on the stage, and "Enter the Fairies singing and dancing."
By the moon we sport and play,With the night begins our day;As we dance the dew doth fall—Trip it, little urchins all,Lightly as the little bee,Two by two, and three by three;And about go we, and about go we.
By the moon we sport and play,With the night begins our day;As we dance the dew doth fall—Trip it, little urchins all,Lightly as the little bee,Two by two, and three by three;And about go we, and about go we.
Jo.What mawmets are these?Fris.O they be the faieries that haunt these woods.Mop.O we shall be pinched most cruelly!1st Fai.Will you have any music, sir?2d Fai.Will you have any fine music?3d Fai.Most dainty music?Mop.We must set a face on it now; there is no flying.No, sir, we very much thank you.1st Fai.O but you shall, sir.Fris.No, I pray you, save your labour.2d Fai.O, sir! it shall not cost you a penny.Jo.Where be your fiddles?3d Fai.You shall have most dainty instruments, sir?Mop.I pray you, what might I call you?1st Fai.My name is Penny.Mop.I am sorry I cannot purse you.Fris.I pray you, sir, what might I call you?2d Fai.My name is Cricket.Fris.I would I were a chimney for your sake.Jo.I pray you, you pretty little fellow, what's your name?3d Fai.My name is little little Prick.Jo.Little little Prick? O you are a dangerous faierie!I care not whose hand I were in, so I were out of yours.1st Fai.I do come about the coppes.Leaping upon flowers' toppes;Then I get upon a fly,She carries me about the sky,And trip and go.2d Fai.When a dew-drop falleth down,And doth light upon my crown.Then I shake my head and skip,And about I trip.3d Fai.When I feel a girl asleep,Underneath her frock I peep,There to sport, and there I play,Then I bite her like a flea,And about I skip.Jo.I thought where I should have you.1st Fai.Will't please you dance, sir?Jo.Indeed, sir, I cannot handle my legs.2d Fai.O you must needs dance and sing,Which if you refuse to do,We will pinch you black and blue;And about we go.
They all dance in a ring, and sing as followeth:—
Round about, round about, in a fine ring a,Thus we dance, thus we dance, and thus we sing a;Trip and go, to and fro, over this green a,All about, in and out, for our brave queen a.Round about, round about, in a fine ring a,Thus we dance, thus we dance, and thus we sing a;Trip and go, to and fro, over this green a,All about, in and out, for our brave queen a.We have danced round about, in a fine ring a,We have danced lustily, and thus we sing a,All about, in and out, over this green a,To and fro, trip and go, to our brave queen a.
Round about, round about, in a fine ring a,Thus we dance, thus we dance, and thus we sing a;Trip and go, to and fro, over this green a,All about, in and out, for our brave queen a.
Round about, round about, in a fine ring a,Thus we dance, thus we dance, and thus we sing a;Trip and go, to and fro, over this green a,All about, in and out, for our brave queen a.
We have danced round about, in a fine ring a,We have danced lustily, and thus we sing a,All about, in and out, over this green a,To and fro, trip and go, to our brave queen a.
The next poet, in point of time, who employs the Fairies, is worthy, long-slandered, and maligned Ben Jonson. His beautiful entertainment of the Satyr was presented in 1603, to Anne, queen of James I. and prince Henry, at Althorpe, the seat of Lord Spenser, on their way from Edinburgh to London. As the queen and prince entered the park, a Satyr came forth from a "little spinet" or copse, and having gazed the "Queen and the Prince in the face" with admiration, again retired into the thicket; then "there came tripping up the lawn a bevy of Fairies attending on Mab, their queen, who, falling into an artificial ring, began to dance a round while their mistress spake as followeth:"
Mab.Hail and welcome, worthiest queen!Joy had never perfect been,To the nymphs that haunt this green,Had they not this evening seen.Now they print it on the groundWith their feet, in figures round;Marks that will be ever foundTo remember this glad stound.Satyr(peeping out of the bush).Trust her not, you bonnibell,She will forty leasings tell;I do know her pranks right well.Mab.Satyr, we must have a spell,For your tongue it runs too fleet.Sat.Not so nimbly as your feet,When about the cream-bowls sweetYou and all your elves do meet.
(Here he came hopping forth, and mixing himself with the Fairies, skipped in, out, and about their circle, while they made many offers to catch him.)
This is Mab, the mistress Fairy,That doth nightly rob the dairy;And can hurt or help the churningAs she please, without discerning.1st Fai.Pug, you will anon take warning.Sat.She that pinches country wenches,If they rub not clean their benches,And, with sharper nail, remembersWhen they rake not up their embers;But if so they chance to feast her,In a shoe she drops a tester.2d Fai.Shall we strip the skipping jester?Sat.This is she that empties cradles,Takes out children, puts in ladles;Trains forth midwives in their slumber,With a sieve the holes to number,And then leads them from her burrows,Home through ponds and water-furrows.[401]1st Fai.Shall not all this mocking stir us?Sat.She can start our Franklin's daughtersIn her sleep with shouts and laughters;And on sweet St. Anna's[402]nightFeed them with a promised sight,Some of husbands, some of lovers,Which an empty dream discovers.1st Fai.Satyr, vengeance near you hovers.
At length Mab is provoked, and she cries out,
Fairies, pinch him black and blue.Now you have him make him rue.Sat.O hold, mistress Mab, I sue!
Mab, when about to retire, bestows a jewel on the Queen, and concludes with,
Utter not, we you implore,Who did give it, nor wherefore.And whenever you restoreYourself to us you shall have more.Highest, happiest queen, farewell,But, beware you do not tell.
Utter not, we you implore,Who did give it, nor wherefore.And whenever you restoreYourself to us you shall have more.Highest, happiest queen, farewell,But, beware you do not tell.
The splendid Masque of Oberon, presented in 1610, introduces the Fays in union with the Satyrs, Sylvans, and the rural deities of classic antiquity; but the Fay is here, as one of them says, not
The coarse and country fairy,That doth haunt the hearth and dairy;
The coarse and country fairy,That doth haunt the hearth and dairy;
it is Oberon, the prince of Fairy-land, who, at the crowing of the cock, advances in a magnificent chariot drawn by white bears, attended by Knights and Fays. As the car advances, the Satyrs begin to leap and jump, and a Sylvan thus speaks:—
Give place, and silence; you were rude too late—This is a night of greatness and of state;Not to be mixed with light and skipping sport—A night of homage to the British court,And ceremony due to Arthur's chair,From our bright master, Oberon the Fair,Who with these knights, attendants here preservedIn Fairy-land, for good they have deservedOf yond' high throne, are come of right to payTheir annual vows, and all their glories layAt 's feet.
Give place, and silence; you were rude too late—This is a night of greatness and of state;Not to be mixed with light and skipping sport—A night of homage to the British court,And ceremony due to Arthur's chair,From our bright master, Oberon the Fair,Who with these knights, attendants here preservedIn Fairy-land, for good they have deservedOf yond' high throne, are come of right to payTheir annual vows, and all their glories layAt 's feet.
Another Sylvan says,
Stand forth, bright faies and elves, and tune your layUnto his name; then let your nimble feetTread subtile circles, that may always meetIn point to him.
Stand forth, bright faies and elves, and tune your layUnto his name; then let your nimble feetTread subtile circles, that may always meetIn point to him.
In the Sad Shepherd, Alken says,
There in the stocks of trees white fays[403]do dwell,And span-long elves that dance about a pool,With each a little changeling in their arms!
There in the stocks of trees white fays[403]do dwell,And span-long elves that dance about a pool,With each a little changeling in their arms!
The Masque of Love Restored presents us "Robin Good-fellow, he that sweeps the hearth and the house clean, riddles for the country maids, and does all their other drudgery, while they are at hot-cockles," and he appears therefore with hisbroomand hiscanles.
In Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess we read of
A virtuous well, about whose flowery banksThe nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds,By the pale moonshine; dipping oftentimesTheir stolen children, so to make them freeFrom dying flesh and dull mortality.
A virtuous well, about whose flowery banksThe nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds,By the pale moonshine; dipping oftentimesTheir stolen children, so to make them freeFrom dying flesh and dull mortality.
And in the Little French Lawyer (iii. 1), one says, "You walk like Robin Goodfellow all the house over, and every man afraid of you."
In Randolph's Pastoral of Amyntas, or the Impossible Dowry, a "knavish boy," called Dorylas, makes a fool of a "fantastique sheapherd," Jocastus, by pretending to be Oberon, king of Fairy. In Act i., Scene 3, Jocastus' brother, Mopsus, "a foolish augur," thus addresses him:—
Mop.Jocastus, I love Thestylis abominably,The mouth of my affection waters at her.Jo.Be wary, Mopsus, learn of me to scornThe mortals; choose a better match: go loveSome fairy lady! Princely OberonShall stand thy friend, and beauteous Mab, his queen,Give thee a maid of honour.Mop.How, Jocastus?Marry a puppet? Wed a mote i' the sun?Go look a wife in nutshells? Woo a gnat,That's nothing but a voice? No, no, Jocastus,I must have flesh and blood, and will have Thestylis:A fig for fairies!
Mop.Jocastus, I love Thestylis abominably,The mouth of my affection waters at her.
Jo.Be wary, Mopsus, learn of me to scornThe mortals; choose a better match: go loveSome fairy lady! Princely OberonShall stand thy friend, and beauteous Mab, his queen,Give thee a maid of honour.
Mop.How, Jocastus?Marry a puppet? Wed a mote i' the sun?Go look a wife in nutshells? Woo a gnat,That's nothing but a voice? No, no, Jocastus,I must have flesh and blood, and will have Thestylis:A fig for fairies!
Thestylis enters, and while she and Mopsus converse, Jocastus muses. At length he exclaims,
Jo.It cannot choose but strangely please his highness.The.What are you studying of Jocastus, ha?Jo.A rare device; a masque to entertainHis Grace of Fairy with.The.A masque! What is't?Jo.An anti-masque of fleas, which I have taughtTo dance corrantos on a spider's thread.
Jo.It cannot choose but strangely please his highness.
The.What are you studying of Jocastus, ha?
Jo.A rare device; a masque to entertainHis Grace of Fairy with.
The.A masque! What is't?
Jo.An anti-masque of fleas, which I have taughtTo dance corrantos on a spider's thread.
And then a jig of pismiresIs excellent.EnterDorylas.He salutesMopsus,and thenDor.Like health unto the president of the jigs.I hope King Oberon and his joyall MabAre well.Jo.They are. I never saw their GracesEat such a meal before.Dor.E'en much good do't them!Jo.They're rid a hunting.Dor.Hare or deer, my lord?Jo.Neither. A brace of snails of the first head.
And then a jig of pismiresIs excellent.
EnterDorylas.He salutesMopsus,and then
Dor.Like health unto the president of the jigs.I hope King Oberon and his joyall MabAre well.
Jo.They are. I never saw their GracesEat such a meal before.
Dor.E'en much good do't them!
Jo.They're rid a hunting.
Dor.Hare or deer, my lord?
Jo.Neither. A brace of snails of the first head.
Act i.—Scene 6.
Jo.Is it not a brave sight, Dorylas? Can the mortalsCaper so nimbly?Dor.Verily they cannot.Jo.Does not King Oberon bear a stately presence?Mab is a beauteous empress.Dor.Yet you kissed herWith admirable courtship.Jo.I do thinkThere will be of Jocastus' brood in Fairy.
Jo.Is it not a brave sight, Dorylas? Can the mortalsCaper so nimbly?
Dor.Verily they cannot.
Jo.Does not King Oberon bear a stately presence?Mab is a beauteous empress.
Dor.Yet you kissed herWith admirable courtship.
Jo.I do thinkThere will be of Jocastus' brood in Fairy.
The.But what estate shall he assure upon me?Jo.A royal jointure, all in Fairy land.
The.But what estate shall he assure upon me?
Jo.A royal jointure, all in Fairy land.
Dorylas knows it.A curious park—Dor.Paled round about with pickteeth.Jo.Besides a house made all of mother-of-pearl,An ivory tennis-court.Dor.A nutmeg parlour.Jo.A sapphire dairy-room.Dor.A ginger hall.Jo.Chambers of agate.Dor.Kitchens all of crystal.Am.O admirable! This it is for certain.Jo.The jacks are gold.Dor.The spits are Spanish needles.Jo.Then there be walks—Dor.Of amber.Jo.Curious orchards—Dor.That bear as well in winter as in summer.Jo.'Bove all, the fish-ponds, every pond is full—Dor.Of nectar. Will this please you! Every groveStored with delightful birds.
Dorylas knows it.A curious park—
Dor.Paled round about with pickteeth.
Jo.Besides a house made all of mother-of-pearl,An ivory tennis-court.
Dor.A nutmeg parlour.
Jo.A sapphire dairy-room.
Dor.A ginger hall.
Jo.Chambers of agate.
Dor.Kitchens all of crystal.
Am.O admirable! This it is for certain.
Jo.The jacks are gold.
Dor.The spits are Spanish needles.
Jo.Then there be walks—
Dor.Of amber.
Jo.Curious orchards—
Dor.That bear as well in winter as in summer.
Jo.'Bove all, the fish-ponds, every pond is full—
Dor.Of nectar. Will this please you! Every groveStored with delightful birds.
Act iii.—Scene 2.
Dorylas says,
Have at Jocastus' orchard! Dainty apples,How lovely they look! Why these are Dorylas' sweetmeats.Now must I be the princely Oberon,And in a royal humour with the restOf royal fairies attendant, go in stateTo rob an orchard. I have hid my robesOn purpose in a hollow tree.
Have at Jocastus' orchard! Dainty apples,How lovely they look! Why these are Dorylas' sweetmeats.Now must I be the princely Oberon,And in a royal humour with the restOf royal fairies attendant, go in stateTo rob an orchard. I have hid my robesOn purpose in a hollow tree.
Act iii.—Scene 4.
Dorylas with a bevy of Fairies.
Dor.How like you now, my Grace? Is not my countenanceRoyal and full of majesty? Walk not ILike the young prince of pygmies? Ha, my knaves,We'll fill our pockets. Look, look yonder, elves;Would not yon apples tempt a better conscienceThan any we have, to rob an orchard? Ha!Fairies, like nymphs with child, must have the thingsThey long for. You sing here a fairy catchIn that strange tongue I taught you, while ourselfDo climb the trees. Thus princely OberonAscends his throne of state.Elves.Nos beata Fauni proles,Quibus non est magna moles,Quamvis Lunam incolamus.Hortos sæpe frequentamus.Furto cuncta magis bella,Furto dulcior puella,Furto omnia decora,Furto poma dulciora.Cum mortales lecto jacent,Nobis poma noctu placent;Illa tamen sunt ingrataNisi furto sint parata.
Dor.How like you now, my Grace? Is not my countenanceRoyal and full of majesty? Walk not ILike the young prince of pygmies? Ha, my knaves,We'll fill our pockets. Look, look yonder, elves;Would not yon apples tempt a better conscienceThan any we have, to rob an orchard? Ha!Fairies, like nymphs with child, must have the thingsThey long for. You sing here a fairy catchIn that strange tongue I taught you, while ourselfDo climb the trees. Thus princely OberonAscends his throne of state.
Elves.Nos beata Fauni proles,Quibus non est magna moles,Quamvis Lunam incolamus.Hortos sæpe frequentamus.
Furto cuncta magis bella,Furto dulcior puella,Furto omnia decora,Furto poma dulciora.
Cum mortales lecto jacent,Nobis poma noctu placent;Illa tamen sunt ingrataNisi furto sint parata.
Jocastus and his man Bromius come upon the Elves while plundering the orchard: the latter is for employing his cudgel on the occasion, but Jocastus is overwhelmed by the condescension of the princely Oberon in coming to his orchard, when
His Grace had orchards of his own more preciousThan mortals can have any.
His Grace had orchards of his own more preciousThan mortals can have any.
The Elves, by his master's permission, pinch Bromius, singing,
Quoniam per te violamur,Ungues hic experiamur;Statim dices tibi datamCutem valde variatam.
Quoniam per te violamur,Ungues hic experiamur;Statim dices tibi datamCutem valde variatam.
Finally, when the coast is clear, Oberon cries,
So we are got clean off; come, noble peersOf Fairy, come, attend our royal Grace.Let's go and share our fruit with our queen MabAnd the other dairy-maids; where of this themeWe will discourse amidst our cakes and cream.Cum tot poma habeamus,Triumphos læti jam canamus;Faunos ego credam ortos,Tantum ut frequentent hortos.I domum, Oberon, ad illas,Quæ nos manent nunc, ancillas,Quarum osculemur sinum,Inter poma lac et vinum.
So we are got clean off; come, noble peersOf Fairy, come, attend our royal Grace.Let's go and share our fruit with our queen MabAnd the other dairy-maids; where of this themeWe will discourse amidst our cakes and cream.
Cum tot poma habeamus,Triumphos læti jam canamus;Faunos ego credam ortos,Tantum ut frequentent hortos.
I domum, Oberon, ad illas,Quæ nos manent nunc, ancillas,Quarum osculemur sinum,Inter poma lac et vinum.
In the old play of Fuimus Troes are the following lines:[404]
Fairies small,Two foot tall,With caps redOn their head,Danse aroundOn the ground.
Fairies small,Two foot tall,With caps redOn their head,Danse aroundOn the ground.
The pastoral poets also employed the Fairy Mythology. Had they used it exclusively, giving up the Nymphs, Satyrs, and all the rural rout of antiquity, and joined with it faithful pictures of the scenery England then presented, with just delineations of the manners and character of the peasantry, the pastoral poetry of that age would have been as unrivalled as its drama. But a blind admiration of classic models, and a fondness for allegory, were the besetting sins of the poets. They have, however, left a few gems in this way.
Britannia's Pastorals furnish the following passages:[405]
Near to this wood there lay a pleasant mead,Where fairies often did their measures tread,Which in the meadows made such circles green,As if with garlands it had crowned been;Or like the circle where the signs we track,And learned shepherds call 't the Zodiac;Within one of these rounds was to be seenA hillock rise, where oft the fairy-queenAt twilight sate, and did command her elvesTo pinch those maids that had not swept their shelves;And, further, if, by maiden's oversight,Within doors water was not brought at night,Or if they spread no table, set no bread,They should have nips from toe unto the head;And for the maid who had perform'd each thing,She in the water-pail bade leave a ring.Song 2.Or of the faiery troops which nimbly play,And by the springs dance out the summer's day,Teaching the little birds to build their nests,And in their singing how to keepen rests.Song 4.As men by fairies led fallen in a dream.Ibid.
Near to this wood there lay a pleasant mead,Where fairies often did their measures tread,Which in the meadows made such circles green,As if with garlands it had crowned been;Or like the circle where the signs we track,And learned shepherds call 't the Zodiac;Within one of these rounds was to be seenA hillock rise, where oft the fairy-queenAt twilight sate, and did command her elvesTo pinch those maids that had not swept their shelves;And, further, if, by maiden's oversight,Within doors water was not brought at night,Or if they spread no table, set no bread,They should have nips from toe unto the head;And for the maid who had perform'd each thing,She in the water-pail bade leave a ring.Song 2.
Or of the faiery troops which nimbly play,And by the springs dance out the summer's day,Teaching the little birds to build their nests,And in their singing how to keepen rests.Song 4.
As men by fairies led fallen in a dream.Ibid.
In his Shepherd's Pipe, also, Brown thus speaks of the Fairies:—
Many times he hath been seenWith the fairies on the green,And to them his pipe did soundWhile they danced in a round.Mickle solace they would make him,And at midnight often wake himAnd convey him from his roomTo a field of yellow-broom;Or into the meadows whereMints perfume the gentle air,And where Flora spreads her treasure;There they would begin their measure.If it chanced night's sable shroudsMuffled Cynthia up in clouds,Safely home they then would see him,And from brakes and quagmires free him.
Many times he hath been seenWith the fairies on the green,And to them his pipe did soundWhile they danced in a round.Mickle solace they would make him,And at midnight often wake himAnd convey him from his roomTo a field of yellow-broom;Or into the meadows whereMints perfume the gentle air,And where Flora spreads her treasure;There they would begin their measure.If it chanced night's sable shroudsMuffled Cynthia up in clouds,Safely home they then would see him,And from brakes and quagmires free him.
But Drayton is the poet after Shakespeare for whom the Fairies had the greatest attractions. Even in the Polyolbion he does not neglect them. In Song xxi., Ringdale, in Cambridgeshire, says,
For in my very midst there is a swelling groundAbout which Ceres' nymphs dance many a wanton round;The frisking fairy there, as on the light air borne,Oft run at barley-break upon the cars of corn;And catching drops of dew in their lascivious chases,Do cast the liquid pearl in one another's faces.
For in my very midst there is a swelling groundAbout which Ceres' nymphs dance many a wanton round;The frisking fairy there, as on the light air borne,Oft run at barley-break upon the cars of corn;And catching drops of dew in their lascivious chases,Do cast the liquid pearl in one another's faces.
And in Song iv., he had spoken of
The feasts that underground the faëry did him (Arthur) make,And there how he enjoyed the Lady of the Lake.
The feasts that underground the faëry did him (Arthur) make,And there how he enjoyed the Lady of the Lake.
Nymphidia is a delicious piece of airy and fanciful invention. The description of Oberon's palace in the air, Mab's amours with the gentle Pigwiggin, the mad freaks of the jealous Oberon, the pygmy Orlando, the mutual artifices of Puck and the Fairy maids of honour, Hop, Mop, Pip, Trip, and Co., and the furious combat of Oberon and the doughtyPigwiggin, mounted on their earwig chargers—present altogether an unequalled fancy-piece, set in the very best and most appropriate frame of metre.
It contains, moreover, several traits of traditionary Fairy lore, such as in these lines:—
Hence shadows, seeming idle shapesOf little frisking elves and apes,To earth do make their wanton skapesAs hope of pastime hastes them;Which maids think on the hearth they see,When fires well near consumed be,There dancing hays by two and three,Just as their fancy casts them.[406]These make our girls their sluttery rue,By pinching them both black and blue,And put a penny in their shoe.The house for cleanly sweeping;And in their courses make that round,In meadows and in marshes found,Of them so call'd the fairy ground,Of which they have the keeping.These, when a child haps to be got,That after proves an idiot,When folk perceive it thriveth not,The fault therein to smother,Some silly, doating, brainless calf,That understands things by the half,Says that the fairy left this aulf,And took away the other.
Hence shadows, seeming idle shapesOf little frisking elves and apes,To earth do make their wanton skapesAs hope of pastime hastes them;Which maids think on the hearth they see,When fires well near consumed be,There dancing hays by two and three,Just as their fancy casts them.[406]
These make our girls their sluttery rue,By pinching them both black and blue,And put a penny in their shoe.The house for cleanly sweeping;And in their courses make that round,In meadows and in marshes found,Of them so call'd the fairy ground,Of which they have the keeping.
These, when a child haps to be got,That after proves an idiot,When folk perceive it thriveth not,The fault therein to smother,Some silly, doating, brainless calf,That understands things by the half,Says that the fairy left this aulf,And took away the other.
And in these:—
Scarce set on shore but therewithalHe meeteth Puck, whom most men callHobgoblin, and on him doth fallWith words from frenzy spoken;"Ho! ho!" quoth Puck, "God save your Grace!Who drest you 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 strayLong winter nights out of the way;And when we stick in mire and clay,He doth with laughter leave us.
Scarce set on shore but therewithalHe meeteth Puck, whom most men callHobgoblin, and on him doth fallWith words from frenzy spoken;"Ho! ho!" quoth Puck, "God save your Grace!Who drest you 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 strayLong winter nights out of the way;And when we stick in mire and clay,He doth with laughter leave us.
In his Poet's Elysium there is some beautiful Fairy poetry, which we do not recollect to have seen noticed any where. This work is divided into ten Nymphals, or pastoral dialogues. The Poet's Elysium is, we are told, a paradise upon earth, inhabited by Poets, Nymphs, and the Muses.
The poet's paradise this is,To which but few can come,The Muses' only bower of bliss,Their dear Elysium.
The poet's paradise this is,To which but few can come,The Muses' only bower of bliss,Their dear Elysium.
In the eighth Nymphal,
A nymph is married to a fay,Great preparations for the day,All rites of nuptials they recite youTo the bridal, and invite you.
A nymph is married to a fay,Great preparations for the day,All rites of nuptials they recite youTo the bridal, and invite you.
The dialogue commences between the nymphs Mertilla and Claia:—
M.But will our Tita wed this fay?C.Yes, and to-morrow is the day.M.But why should she bestow herselfUpon this dwarfish fairy elf?C.Why, by her smallness, you may findThat she is of the fairy kind;And therefore apt to choose her makeWhence she did her beginning take;Besides he's deft and wondrous airy,And of the noblest of the fairy,[407]Chief of the Crickets,[408]of much fame,In Fairy a most ancient name.
M.But will our Tita wed this fay?
C.Yes, and to-morrow is the day.
M.But why should she bestow herselfUpon this dwarfish fairy elf?
C.Why, by her smallness, you may findThat she is of the fairy kind;And therefore apt to choose her makeWhence she did her beginning take;Besides he's deft and wondrous airy,And of the noblest of the fairy,[407]Chief of the Crickets,[408]of much fame,In Fairy a most ancient name.
The nymphs now proceed to describe the bridal array of Tita: her jewels are to be dew-drops; her head-dress the "yellows in the full-blown rose;" her gown
Of pansy, pink, and primrose leaves,Most curiously laid on in threaves;
Of pansy, pink, and primrose leaves,Most curiously laid on in threaves;
her train the "cast slough of a snake;" her canopy composed of "moons from the peacock's tail," and "feathers from the pheasant's head;"
Mix'd with the plume (of so high price),The precious bird of paradise;
Mix'd with the plume (of so high price),The precious bird of paradise;
and it shall be
Borne o'er our head (by our inquiry)By elfs, the fittest of the fairy.
Borne o'er our head (by our inquiry)By elfs, the fittest of the fairy.
Her buskins of the "dainty shell" of the lady-cow. The musicians are to be the nightingale, lark, thrush, and other songsters of the grove.
But for still music, we will keepThe wren and titmouse, which to sleepShall sing the bride when she's alone,The rest into their chambers gone;And like those upon ropes that walkOn gossamer from stalk to stalk,The tripping fairy tricks shall playThe evening of the wedding day.
But for still music, we will keepThe wren and titmouse, which to sleepShall sing the bride when she's alone,The rest into their chambers gone;And like those upon ropes that walkOn gossamer from stalk to stalk,The tripping fairy tricks shall playThe evening of the wedding day.
Finally, the bride-bed is to be of roses; the curtains, tester, and all, of the "flower imperial;" the fringe hung with harebells; the pillows of lilies, "with down stuft of the butterfly;"
For our Tita is to-day,To be married to a fay.
For our Tita is to-day,To be married to a fay.
In Nymphal iii.,
The fairies are hopping,The small flowers cropping,And with dew dropping,Skip thorow the greaves.At barley-break they playMerrily all the day:At night themselves they layUpon the soft leaves.
The fairies are hopping,The small flowers cropping,And with dew dropping,Skip thorow the greaves.
At barley-break they playMerrily all the day:At night themselves they layUpon the soft leaves.
And in Nymphal vi. the forester says,
The dryads, hamadryads, the satyrs, and the fawns,Oft play at hide-and-seek before me on the lawns;The frisking fairy oft, when horned Cynthia shines,Before me as I walk dance wanton matachines.
The dryads, hamadryads, the satyrs, and the fawns,Oft play at hide-and-seek before me on the lawns;The frisking fairy oft, when horned Cynthia shines,Before me as I walk dance wanton matachines.
Herrick is generally regarded as the Fairy-poet,par excellence; but, in our opinion, without sufficient reason, for Drayton's Fairy pieces are much superior to his. Indeed Herrick's Fairy-poetry is by no means his best; and we doubt if he has anything to exceed in that way, or perhaps equal, the light and fanciful King Oberon's Apparel of Smith.[409]
Milton disdained not to sing
How faëry Mab the junkets eat.She was pinch'd and pull'd, she said;And he, byfriar'slantern led,[410]Tells how the drudging Goblin sweatTo earn hiscream bowl duly set,When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the cornThat ten day-labourers could not end;Then lies him down, the lubber fiend,And stretch'd out all the chimney's length,Basks at the fire his hairy strength,And, crop-full, out of doors he flings,Ere the first cock his matin rings.
How faëry Mab the junkets eat.She was pinch'd and pull'd, she said;And he, byfriar'slantern led,[410]Tells how the drudging Goblin sweatTo earn hiscream bowl duly set,When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the cornThat ten day-labourers could not end;Then lies him down, the lubber fiend,And stretch'd out all the chimney's length,Basks at the fire his hairy strength,And, crop-full, out of doors he flings,Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Regardless of Mr. Gifford's sneer at "those who may undertake the unprofitable drudgery of tracing out the property of every word, and phrase, and idea in Milton,"[411]we will venture to trace a little here, and beg the reader to compare this passage with one quoted above from Harsenet, and to say if the resemblance be accidental. The truth is, Milton, reared in London, probably knew the popular superstitions chiefly or altogether from books; and almost every idea in this passage may be found in books that he must have read.
In the hands of Dryden the Elves of Chaucer lose their indefiniteness. In the opening of the Wife of Bath her Tale,