Cry, cock-a-doodle-doo
A. Bauld
ARIEL
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands.
Curtsied when you have, and kissed
The wild waves whist.
Foot it featly here and there,
And, sweet sprites, bear
The burden. Hark, hark!
SPIRITS
Bow-wow.
ARIEL
The watchdogs bark.
Bow-wow.
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry “Cock-a-diddle-dow.”
FERDINAND
Where should this music be? I' th' air or th' earth?
It sounds no more, and sure, it waits
Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wrack,
This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion
With its sweet air. There I have followed it,
Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.
ARIEL
Full fathom five thy father lies.
Of his bones are coral made.
Those are pearls that were his eyes.
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell
SPIRITS
Ding-dong.
ARIEL
Hark, how I hear them.
SPIRITS
Ding-dong, bell.