SONGS OF THE PIXIES. THE PIXIES, in the superstition of Devonshire, are a race of beings invisibly small, and harmless or friendly to man. At a small distance from a village in that county, half way up a wood-covered hill, is an excavation called the Pixies' Parlour. The roots of old trees form its ceiling; and on its sides are innumerable cyphers, among which the Author discovered his own, and those of his brothers, cut by the hand of their childhood. At the foot of the hill flows the river Otter. To this place the Author, during the summer months of the year 1793, conducted a party of young ladies; one of whom, of stature elegantly small, and of complexion colourless yet clear, was proclaimed the Faery Queen. On which occasion the following Irregular Ode was written. I. WHOм the untaught Shepherds call Welcome, Ladies! to our cell. Here the wren of softest note Builds its nest and warbles well; II. When fades the moon to shadowy-pale, While lusty Labour scouting sorrow III. But not our filmy pinion We scorch amid the blaze of day, Aye from the sultry heat We to the cave retreat O'ercanopied by huge roots intertwined With wildest texture, blackened o'er with age: Round them their mantle green the ivies bind, Beneath whose foliage pale Fanned by the unfrequent gale We shield us from the Tyrant's mid-day rage. IV. Thither, while the murmuring throng As round our sandy grot appear Weaving gay dreams of sunny-tinctured hue O'er his hush'd soul our soothing witcheries shed And twine the future garland round his head. V. When Evening's dusky car Crowned with her dewy star Steals o'er the fading sky in shadowy flight; We tremble to the breeze Veiled from the grosser ken of mortal sight. Along our wildly-bowered sequestered walk, The glance, that from the half-confessing eye VI. Or through the mystic ringlets of the vale We flash our faery feet in gamesome prank: Or, silent-sandaled, pay our defter court, Circling the Spirit of the Western Gale, Where wearied with his flower-caressing sport, Supine he slumbers on a violet bank; Then with quaint music hymn the parting gleam By lonely Otter's sleep-persuading stream; Or where his wave with loud unquiet song Dashed o'er the rocky channel froths along; Or where, his silver waters smoothed to rest, The tall tree's shadow sleeps upon his breast. VII. Hence, thou lingerer, Light! Eve saddens into Night. Mother of wildly-working dreams! we view Thy power the Pixies own, And clouds in watery colours drest VIII. Welcome Ladies! to the cell Where the blameless Pixies dwell: But thou, sweet Nymph! proclaimed our Faery Queen, With what obeisance meet Thy presence shall we greet? For lo! attendant on thy steps are seen With Honour's softer mien; And meek-eyed Pity eloquently fair, Whose tearful cheeks are lovely to the view, Unboastful Maid! though now the Lily pale THE ROSE. As late each flower that sweetest blows I plucked, the Garden's pride! Within the petals of a Rose A sleeping Love I spied. Around his brows a beamy wreath All purple glowed his cheek, beneath, I softly seized the unguarded Power, And placed him, caged within the flower, On spotless Sara's breast. But when unweeting of the guile Awoke the prisoner sweet, He struggled to escape awhile And stamped his faery feet. 1798. |