Page:The Midsummer Night.djvu/25

 Chirp no Cricket here,

Flit no wanton breeze,

But from out yon trees,

Gushing full and clear,

Philomel, be thy sweet lay

On the night-air, borne away!

To our Fairy-dance

See the Queen advance,

All in rosy garlands dight

Floating hither in the soft moonlight:

High is her command,

In the Spirit-land;

For her wise and gentle sway,

We small Elves do love, and cheerfully obey.—

Trace now the ruddy circle, in whose bound