Would you the fairy regions see,
Hence to the green woods run with me;
From mortals safe, the live long night,
There countless feats the fays delight.
Where burns the glow-worm's lamp so blue,
One gives each flower its proper hue;
While, near, his busy huswife weaves
Ribands of grass, and mantling leaves;
Some teach young plants with grace to move,
Some lead the woodbine to her love,
Some strew the shores with shells and sand,
While others pilot weeds from land;
By moon-light these their labours free,
Then follow me, follow me,
And the chaffer's bugle our guide shall be.