FAIRY FOLK AND FABLE. ARIEL'S SONG. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. WHERE the bee sucks there suck I; There I couch when owls dọ cry; On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. DEATH OF OBERON. WALTER THORNBURY. TOLL the lilies' silver bells! Oberon, the king, is dead! In her grief the crimson rose All her velvet leaves has shed. Toll the lilies' silver bells! Oberon is dead and gone! He who looked an emperor When his glow-worm crown was on. Toll the lilies' silver bells! Slay the dragon-fly, his steed; Dig his grave within the ring Of the mushrooms in the mead. THE MERMAID. ALFRED TENNYSON. WHO would be, In a golden curl With a comb of pearl, On a throne? I would be a mermaid fair; I would sing to myself the whole of the day; I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall From under my starry sea-bud crown Low adown and around, And I should look like a fountain of gold Springing alone With a shrill inner sound, Over the throne In the midst of the hall. THE FORSAKEN MERMAN. MATTHEW ARNOLD. COME, dear children, let us away; Now my brothers call from the bay; Call her once before you go. In a voice that she will know: Children's voices should be dear Surely she will come again. |