With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
050 And that same dew, which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls,
[052] Stood now within the pretty flowerets’ eyes,
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had at my pleasure taunted her,
055 And she in mild terms begg’d my patience,
I then did ask of her her changeling child;
[057] Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in fairy land.