All her sylphy maidens' fluttering wings
Nightingale melodies sing
Silver plumage beneath the feathery moon
In golden tresses bluebells bloom

Menacing in lustful need
Oberon rides his fierce black steed
About him wafting and moaning cry
All manner of hobgoblins fly

Fearful of his thundering gyre
Shivering near his cold spectre
Hanging from the broad and splaying oaks
Curling vines in ponds do soak

Twas there amongst the tangled growth
His minions stirred their herbal trough
Of hemlock, stork's bill and eglantine
To bemuse Titania's romantic mind

Upon her bed of flowers she lay
When Oberon in jestful play
Into her ear blew powdery mist
To punish her disdainful hiss

Then she in muddled glee did love
Upon her perfumed bed above
The forest garden of delight
An ass, she doted for a night.

But all is o'er the fool has gone
She wakes to find herself alone
Yet in the swirling scented air
She senses Oberon is near