... faery elves,
 	Whose midnight revels, by a forest-side
 	Or fountain, some belated peasant sees,
 	Or dreams he sees, while overhead the Moon
 	Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth
 	Wheels her pale course;
			From Paradise Lost, lines 781-786

	Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,
	With stories told of many a feat,
	How Faery Mab the junkets eat,
	She was pinch'd and pull'd she said,
	And he by friar's lanthorn led,
	Tells how the drudging goblin sweat,
	To earn his cream-bowl duly set,
	When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
	His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn
	That ten day-labourers could not end;
	Then lies him down, the lubber fiend,
	And stretch'd out all the chimney's length,
	Basks at the fire his hairy strength;
	And crop-full out of doors he flings,
	Ere the first cock his matin rings.
	Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,
	By whispering winds soon lull'd asleep.
			From L'Allegro, lines 100-114

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