minimal_techno, electronica, experimental,indie
O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone (60) On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, (65) The traces of the smallest spider's web, The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, Not so big as a round little worm (70) Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night... This is Mab, the mistris-Faerie, That doth nightly rob the dayrie; And she can hurt, or helpe the cherning, (As shee please) without discerning... And thou, Nymphidia, gentle fay, Which meeting me upon the way These secrets didst to me bewray, Which I now am in telling; My pretty light fantastic maid, I here invoke thee to my aid, That I may speak what thou hast said, In numbers smoothly swelling. This palace standeth in the air, By necromancy placed there, That it no tempests needs to fear, Which way soe'er it blow it. And somewhat southward toward the noon, Whence lies a way up to the moon, And thence the Fairy can as soon Pass to the earth below it. The walls of spiders' legs are made, Well mortised and finely laid; He was the master of his trade It curiously builded; 'I am the Fairy Mab: to me 'tis given The wonders of the human world to keep; The secrets of the immeasurable past, In the unfailing consciences of men, Those stern, unflattering chroniclers, I find; The future, from the causes which arise In each event, I gather; not the sting Which retributive memory implants In the hard bosom of the selfish man, Nor that ecstatic and exulting throb Which virtue's votary feels when he sums up The thoughts and actions of a well-spent day, Are unforeseen, unregistered by me; And it is yet permitted me to rend The veil of mortal frailty, that the spirit, Clothed in its changeless purity, may know How soonest to accomplish the great end For which it hath its being, and may taste That peace which in the end all life will share. This is the meed of virtue; happy Soul, Ascend the car with me!'