.
.
Now the hungry lion roars
Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls
the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task
fordone,
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the scritch-owl,
scritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a
shroud.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
That the graves, all
gaping wide
Every one lets forth its sprite,
In the church-way paths
to glide :
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate's
team,
From the presence of the sun
Following darkness like
a dream,
Now are frolic; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd
house:
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind
the door.
(A Midsummer Night's Dream, V, 1)
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