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.