Page:The Midsummer Night.djvu/34

 With any of the winds, and come in first!

How knew'st thou of that flower?

OBERON.

In the sad time

Of our estrangement, Sweet, I wandered oft

On that rude mountain, thro' that sombre wood,

Oft sat forlorn in the waste solitude,

Or pined in dim caves, with the hooting Owl:

'Twas then I watch'd the drop gradual distil

Into the flower. All such slow-ripened fruits

A spirit pervades, that with the human soul

Hath a mysterious sympathy—in some

A healing virtue dwells, to cure disease.

Some will excite Ambition—Hatred—Love—

The flower my servant seeks, will kindle high

The glow of fervid phantasy. They come.

I'm first, remember!