A Fairy Cavalier.

By a mushroom in the moon,      White as bud from budded berry,     Silver buckles on my shoon, -      Ho! the moon shines merry.     Here I sit and drink my grog, -      Stocks and tunic ouphen yellow,     Skinned from belly of a frog, -      Quite a fine, fierce fellow.     My good cloak a bat's wing gave,      And a beetle's wings my bonnet,     And a moth's head grew the brave,      Gallant feather on it.     Faith! I have rich jewels rare,      Rings and carcanets all studded     Thick with spiders' eyes, that glare      Like great rubies blooded.     And I swear, sirs, by my blade,      "Sirrah, a good stabbing hanger!" -     From a hornet's stinger made, -      When I am in anger.     Fill the lichen pottles up!      Honey pressed from hearts of roses;     Cheek by jowl, up with each cup      Till we hide our noses.     Good, sirs! - marry! - 'tis the cock!      Hey, away! the moon's lost fire!     Ho! the cock our dial and clock -      Hide we 'neath this brier.