Poems of Madison Cawein Vol. 4 — An Elf Swashbuckler

AN ELF SWASHBUCKLER

Ho, my bullies, lift a tune To Queen Mab, and, come, make merry, By a mushroom in the moon, White as bud of berry!

Gentlemen, come!

take your grog!

Each one in his cap and mantlet: Who refuses is a dog!

-- He must lift my gantlet!

Look!

my gaberdine how brave!

And my tunic, ouphen yellow!

One a bat's-wing lately gave, And a frog its fellow.

And a moth's-head grew this fine Feather of my beetle-bonnet;

See, my gnat-sting dagger's shine Hath its blood still on it.

Faith!

this ring I wear, I swear, 'Twas Queen Mab who gave it: studded, As you see, with rubies rare-- Eyes of spiders blooded.

Doubt me, sirs, and by my blade!

-- Sirrahs, a good stabbing hanger!

From a hornet's stinger made!

-- You may dread my 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!

--'Twas the cock!

-- Hey, away!

the moon's lost fire!

-- Ho!

the cock!

our dial and clock-- Hide beneath this brier!

ON THE EVE OF ST.

JOHN