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, We glance before his view : O'er his hush'd soul our soothing witcheries shed Here the blackbird strains his throat; And twine our faery garlands round his 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 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. Unboastful Maid! though now the Lily pale Transparent grace thy beauties meek; Yet ere again along the impurpling vale, The purpling vale and elfin-haunted grove, Young Zephyr his fresh flowers profusely throws, We'll tinge with livelier hues thy cheek; And, haply, from the nectar-breathing Rose Extract a Blush for Love! 1793. THE ROSE As late each flower that sweetest blows Around his brows a beamy wreath All purple glowed his cheek, beneath, I softly seized the unguarded Power, Nor scared his balmy rest: And placed him, caged within the flower, But when unweeting of the guile Ah! soon the soul-entrancing sight He gazed! he thrilled with deep delight! 'And O!' he cried — Of magic kind KISSES 1793. CUPID, if storying Legends tell aright, 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; |