Of which old Merlin thus foretold,
That he his wish should have,
And so this sonne of stature small
The charmer to him gave.

No blood nor bones in him should be,
In shape and being such,
That men should heare him speake, but not
His wandring shadow touch:

But all unseene to goe or come
Whereas it pleasd him still;
And thus King Arthurs Dwarfe was born,
To fit his fathers will:

And in foure minutes grew so fast,
That he became so tall
As was the plowmans thumbe in height,
And so they did him call

Tom Thumbe, the which the Fayry-Queene
There gave him to his name,
Who, with her traine of Goblins grim,
Unto his christning came.

Whereas she cloath'd him richly brave,
In garments fine and faire,
Which lasted him for many yeares
In seemely sort to weare.