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And out the candle I do blow:
And maids I kiss,

They shriek-Who's this?

I answer nought but Ho! ho! ho!

Yet now and then, the maids to please,
At midnight I card up their wool;
And while they sleep and take their ease,
With wheel to threads their flax I pull.
I grind at mill

Their malt up still,

I dress their hemp, and spin their tow;
If any walk,

And would me talk,

I wend me, laughing Ho! ho! ho!

When men do traps and engines set
In loopholes, where the vermins creep,
Who from their fields and houses get
Their ducks and geese, and lambs and sheep:
I spy the gin

And enter in,

And seem a vermin taken so;

But when they there

Approach me near,

I leap out, laughing Ho! ho! ho!

BEN JONSON.

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Can y Tylwyth Teg; or, the Fairies' Song.

FROM grassy blades, and fenny shades,
My happy comrades hie;

Now day declines, bright Hesper shines,
And night invades the sky.

From noonday pranks, and thymy banks,

To Dolyd's dome repair,

For ours the joy that cannot cloy,

And mortals cannot share.

The light-latch'd door, the well-swept floor,

The hearth so trim and neat,

The blaze so clear, the water near,
The pleasant circling seat,

With proper care your needs prepare,
Your tuneful tabors bring;

And day shall haste to tinge the east,
Ere we shall cease to sing.

But first I'll creep where mortals sleep,
And form the blissful dreams;
I'll hover near the maiden dear,

That keeps the hearth so clean;
I'll show her when that best of men,
So rich in manly charms,
Her Einiou, in vest of blue,
Shall bless her longing arms.

Your little sheaves or primrose leaves,
Your acorns, berries spread;

Let kernels sweet increase the treat,
And flowers their fragrance shed;

And when 'tis o'er we'll crowd the floor,
In jocund pairs advance,

No voice be mute, and each shrill flute,
Shall cheer the mazy dance.

When morning breaks, and man awakes
From sleep's restoring hours,

The flocks, the field, his house we yield,
To his more active powers.

While clad in green, unheard, unseen,
On sunny banks we'll play,

And give to man his little
His empire of the day.

span,

OLD SONG.

A Charade.

PRONOUNCED as one letter, and written with three,
Two letters there are, and two only in me;

I am double, am single, am black, blue, and gray,
I am read from both ends, and the same either way,
I am restless and wandering, steady and fix'd,
And you know not one hour what I may be the
next;

I melt and I kindle, beseech and defy,

I am watery and moist, I am fiery and dry.
I am scornful and scowling, compassionate, meek,
I am light, I am dark, I am strong, I am weak.
I am sluggish and dead, I am lively and bright,
I am sharp, I am flat, I am left, I am right.
I am piercing and clear, I am heavy and dull,
Expressive and languid, contracted and full,

I am careless and vacant, I search and I pry,
And judge, and decide, and examine, and try.
I'm a globe, and a mirror, a window, a door,
An index, an organ, and fifty things more.
I belong to all animals under the sun,

And to those which were long understood to have

none.

By some I am said to exist in the mind,

And am found in potatoes, and needles, and wind.
Three jackets I own, of glass, water, and horn,
And I wore them all three on the day I was born.
I am cover'd quite snug, have a lid and a fringe,
Yet I move every way on invisible hinge.
A pupil I have, a most whimsical wight,

Who is little by day, and grows big in the night,
Whom I cherish with care as part of myself,

For in truth I depend on this delicate elf,

Who collects all my food, and with wonderful knack,

Throws it into a net which I keep at my back k;
And, though heels over head it arrives, in a trice
It is sent up to table all proper and nice.
I am spoken of sometimes as if I were glass,
But then it is false, and the trick will not pass.
A blow makes me run though I have not a limb;
Though I neither have fins nor a bladder, I swim.
Like many more couples, my partner and I
At times will look cross at each other and shy;
Yet still, though we differ in what we're about,
One will do all the work when the other is out.
I am least apt to cry, as they always remark,
When trimm'd with good lashes, or kept in the
dark.

Should I fret and be heated they put me to bed,
And leave me to cool upon water and bread.
But if harden'd I grow they make use of the knife
Lest an obstinate humour endanger my life.
Or you may, though the treatment appears to be
rough,

Run a spit through my side and with safety enough.
Like boys who are fond of the fruit and their play,
I am seen with my ball and my apple all day.
My belt is a rainbow, I reel and I dance,

I am said to retire, though I never advance.
I am read by physicians as one of their books,
And am used by the ladies to fasten their hooks.
My language is plain, though it cannot be heard,
And I speak without ever pronouncing a word.
Some call me a diamond; some say I am jet;
Others talk of my water, or how I am set.
I'm a borough in England, in Scotland a stream,
And an isle of the sea in the Irishman's dream.
The earth without me would no loveliness wear,
And sun, moon, and stars, at my wish disappear;
Yet so frail is my tenure, so brittle my joy,
That a speck gives me pain, and a drop can destroy.

OCULUS.

Robin Hood.

No! those days are gone away,
And their hours are old and gray,
And their minutes buried all
Under the down-trodden pall

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