Puck boweth full low, And a blue-bell he tinkleth, And the courtiers inflow, As thick as stars twinkleth.
And the King, from his wand, Hath showered his graces, On the rich and the grand, And the favored of places.
Saluteth this grandee, And passeth that by; This sport, or that dandy, To the tail of each eye.
"God een! my brave hearties, Thou Fat and thou Thin, How barren our parties If thou art not in!
"Thou Nut and thou Cherry, Thou Leaf and Thou Bloom, Thou Bud and thou Berry, All welcome to room.
"Thou Red, and thou Yellow, Thou Purple, thou Green, And--who is that fellow, With blood in his een?
"Thou Lobster, come kneel here, Behold thou the King! What folly to steal here To this magical ring!"
Saith Puck, "'tis a ranger In the light of the queen." Saith the ranger "And stranger To thy pleasure, I ween.
"I come from the people, With the people I dwell. I favor the steeple, I favor the bell.
"Ten thousand are weary, That furnish thee sport, Their homes are adreary, To furnish thy court."
(_A faint low rumble of thunder cometh from over the hills_,) _and Oberon saith_,
"'Tis an orator, Hollo! We've something here new! Whatever may follow, We'll hear the thing through.
"Continue, thou swine herd, Right gladly we'll hear, Of the grunts of thy fine herd, And the stys that are drear."
The orator boweth, And unrolleth a scroll. And such sentences floweth, To the cheek by jowl:
_To the greatest of Kings, Whom Time in his fleetings Hath gifted with wings, From his people, with greetings:_
"We are weary of wine and of laughter, We are weary of women and song! Come back dear Brother October, And bear us sober along!"
Then the palace, to dome, With merriment ringeth, And, dashing the foam, The revellers singeth:
Ah! the clink of our glasses How they clink as we drink! And memory passes, Too pleasant to think.
"Too much there is singing and dancing, Sweet sorrow is scorned for her weeds. Come back dear Brother October And chant us thine anthem of deeds!"
Here's one to each other, Another as deep, And life is a brother, Too pleasant to weep.
(_While a dark cloud appeareth on the horizon_.)
"Sweet thought is outclassed and outbidden, Gay summer too high on her wings! Come back dear Brother October And chant us thy requiem of Kings!"
