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Hence, gloomy thoughts! no more my soul shall dwell
On joys that were ! No more endure to weigh
The shame and anguish of the evil day,
Wisely forgetful! O’er the ocean swell
Sublime of Hope I seek the cottag'd dell,
Where Virtue calm with careless step may stray ;
And, dancing to the moon-light roundelay,
The wizard Passions weave an holy spell !

O Chatterton! that thou wert yet alive!

Sure thou would'st spread the canvass to the gale, And love, with us, the tinkling team to drive

O’er peaceful Freedom's undivided dale;
And we, at sober eve, would round thee throng,
Hanging, enraptur’d, on thy stately song !
And greet with smiles the young-eyed Poesy
All deftly mask'd, as hoar Antiquity.

Alas vain Phantasies ! the fleeting brood
Of Woe self-solac'd in her dreamy mood !
Yet will I love to follow the sweet dream,
Where Susquehannah pours his untam'd stream ;
And on some hill, whose forest-frowning side
Waves o’er the murmurs of his calmer tide,
Will raise a solemn Cenotaph to thee,
Sweet Harper of time-shrouded Minstrelsy!
And there, sooth'd sadly by the dirgeful wind,
Muse on the sore ills I had left behind.


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 cypher 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 conducted a party of young ladies, during the summer months of the year 1793, one of whom, of stature elegantly small, and of complexion colourless yet clear, was proclaimed the Fairy Queen, on which occasion, and at which time, the following irregular ode was written.


Whom the untaught Shepherds call
Pixies in their madrigal,
Fancy's children, here we dwell:
Welcome, Ladies! to our cell.
Here the wren of softest note

Builds it's nest and warbles well ;
Here the blackbird strains his throat:

Welcome, Ladies ! to our cell.


When fades the moon all shadowy pale,
And scuds the cloud before the gale,
Ere Morn with living gems bedight
Streaks the East with purple light,
We sip the furze-flowr's fragrant dews
Clad in robes of rainbow hues
Richer than the deepen'd bloom
That glows on Summer's scented plume:
Or sport amid the rosy gleam,
Sooth'd by the distant tinkling team,

While lusty Labour scouting sorrow
Bids the Dame a glad good morrow,
Who jogs th’accustom'd road along,
And paces cheery to her cheering song.


But not our filmy pinion

We scorch amid the blaze of day, When Noontide's fiery-tressed minion Flashes the fervid ray.

Aye, from the sultry heat

We to the cave retreat. O’ercanopied by huge roots intertwin'd With wildest texture, blacken'd o'er with age: Round them their mantle green the ivies hind,

Beneath whose foliage pale

Fann'd by the unfrequent gale We shield us from the Tyrant's mid-day rage.


Thither, while the murm'ring throng
Of wild bees hum their drowsy song,

By Indolence and Fancy brought,
A youthful Bard, “ unknown to Fame,"

Wooes the Queen of Solemn Thought,
And heaves the gentle mis’ry of a sigh,

Gazing with tearful eye,
As round our sandy grot appear
Many a rudely sculptur'd name

To pensive Mem'ry dear!
Weaving gay dreams of sunny-tinctur'd hue

We glance before his view: O'er his hush'd soul our soothing witch’ries shed And twine our fairy garlands round his head.


When Evening's dusky car,

Crown'd with her dewy star,
Steals o'er the fading sky in shadowy flight;

On leaves of aspen trees

We tremble to the breeze,
Veild from the grosser ken of mortal sight.

Or, haply, at the visionary hour,
Along our wild sequestred walk,
We listen to th' enamour'd rustic's talk ;
Heave with the heavings of the maiden's breast,
Where young-eyed Loves have built their turtle nest;

Or, guide of soul-subduing power,
Th' electric flash, that from the melting eye
Darts the fond question and the soft reply.


Or thro' the mystic ringlets of the vale We flash our fairy feet in gamesome prank ; Or, silent-sandal'd, 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,
Dash'd o'er the rocky channel, froths along ;,
Or where his silver waters smooth'd to rest,
The tall tree's shadow sleeps upon his breast.


Hence! thou lingerer Light!

Eve saddens into Night.
Mother of wildly-working dreams! we view

The sombre hours, that round thee stand,

With down-cast eyes (a duteous band !)
Their dark robes dripping with the heavy dew.

Sorceress of the ebon throne !
Thy power the Pixies own,
When round thy raven brow

Heaven's lucent roses glow,
And clouds, in watry colours drest,

Float in light drapery o'er thy sable vest;
What time the pale moon sheds a softer day,

Mellowing the woods beneath its pensive beam: For mid the quiv'ring light 'tis ours to play,

Aye dancing to the cadence of the stream.


Welcome, Ladies! to the cell,

Where the blameless Pixies dwell. But thou, sweet Nymph! proclaim'd our Fairy Queen,

With what obeisance meet

Thy presence shall we greet ?
For lo! attendant on thy steps are seen

Graceful Ease in artless stole,
And white-rob’d Purity of soul,

With Honour s softer mien :
Mirth of the loosely-flowing hair,
And meek ey'd Pity eloquently fair,
Whose tearful cheeks are lovely to the view,
As snow-drop wet with dew.


Unboastful Maid! tho' now the Lily pale

Transparent grace thy beauties meek; Yet ere again along th' impurpling vale, The purpling vale and elfin-haunted grove,

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