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 woodcovered 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, 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

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 its nest and warbles well;

Welcome, Ladies! to our cell.

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

IV

Thither, while the murmuring 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 misery of a sigh Gazing with tearful eye, As round our sandy grot appear 40 Many a rudely-sculptured name To pensive Memory dear! Weaving gay dreams of sunny-tinctured

hue,

head.

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, 80
When round thy raven brow
Heaven's lucent roses glow,

And clouds in watery 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 quivering light 'tis ours to play,

Aye dancing to the cadence of the stream.

1793.

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
Of many a lucent hue;

All purple glowed his cheek, beneath,
Inebriate with dew.

I softly seized the unguarded Power,
Nor scared his balmy rest:

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.

Ah! soon the soul-entrancing sight
Subdued the impatient boy!

He gazed! he thrilled with deep delight!
Then clapped his wings for joy.

'And O!' he cried-' Of magic kind
What charms this Throne endear!
Some other Love let Venus find-
I'll fix my empire here.'

KISSES

1793.

CUPID, if storying Legends tell aright,
Once framed a rich Elixir of Delight.
A Chalice o'er love-kindled flames he
fix'd,

And in it Nectar and Ambrosia mix'd : With these the magic dews which Evening brings,

Brush'd from the Idalian star by faery wings:

Each tender pledge of sacred Faith he join'd,

Each gentler Pleasure of th' unspotted

mind

Day-dreams, whose tints with sportive brightness glow,

And Hope, the blameless parasite of Woe.

I skimmed the smooth thin stone along thy breast,

Numbering its light leaps! yet so deep imprest

Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes

I never shut amid the sunny ray, But straight with all their tints thy waters rise,

Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey,

And bedded sand that veined with various dyes

Gleamed through thy bright transparence! On my way,

Visions of Childhood! oft have ye beguiled

Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs:

Ah! that once more I were a careless ? 1793.

Child!

O THOU wild Fancy, check thy wing! No more

Those thin white flakes, those purple clouds explore!

Nor there with happy spirits speed thy flight

Bathed in rich amber-glowing floods of light;