OH come, my pretty love ! and we
Will climb the dewy hill together;
An acorn shall our goblet be,
A rose our couch in sultry weather--
Amidst its fragrant leaves we'll lie,
List'ning the zephyrs passing by.
Ah come, my fairy love ! and sip
The dew that from each leaf is flowing;
And let the insect 'round thy lip
With envy hover, while 'tis glowing.
Beneath a cowslip's shade we'll sing,
While morning gales shall fragrance bring.
Haste, haste, my tiny love ! and dress
Thy pretty form with pearls of morning;
Thy smiles shall charm, thy voice shall bless,
Thy beauty ev'ry grace adorning:
By moon-light, on the glitt'ring ground
We'll sport, while fairies frolic 'round.
Ah ! why delay, my elfin love ?
The sun is sinking in the ocean;
The birds are sleeping in the grove;
The weary zephyrs scarce have motion:
Ah ! soon the gloomy shades of night
Will want those eyes of starry light.
I've made thee, love, a canopy,
Of tulip tinted rich; a cluster
Of shining gold-cups waving nigh,
Bespangled o'er with dewy lustre:
A verdant carpet at the door
With silv'ry frost is scatter'd o'er.
Thy curtains are of insects' wings,
With gossamer festoon'd and corded;
And, for their tassels, zephyr brings
The thistle's floss, which Winter hoarded:
Thy pillow is of swan-down fair,
With filmy net-work, rich and rare.
Now, OBERON , thy love attends.