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Ouphe and Goblin! Imp and Sprite! Elf of eve! and starry Fay! Ye that love the moon's soft light, Hither, hither wend your way; Twine ye in a jocund ring, Sing and trip it merrily, Hand to hand, and wing to wing, Round the wild witch-hazel tree. The beetle guards our holy ground, He flies about the haunted place, And if mortal there be found, He hums in his ears and flaps his face; The leaf-harp sounds our roundelay, The owlet's eyes our lanterns be; Thus we sing, and dance, and play, Round the wild witch-hazel tree. But, hark! from tower on tree-top high, The sentry-elf his call has made: A streak is in the eastern sky, Shapes of moonlight! Flit and fade! The hilltops gleam in morning's spring, The skylark shakes his dappled wing, The day-glimpse glimmers on the lawn, The cock has crowed, and the Fays are gone. |