Songs of the Pixies
[The Pixies, in the superstitions 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 ciphers, among which the author discovered his own cipher 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.]
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;
Here the blackbird strains his throat;
Welcome, ladies! to our cell.
II.
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 flowers fragrant dews,
Clad in robes of rainbow hues
Richer than the deepened bloom
That glows on summer’s scented plume:
Or sport amid the rosy gleam,
Soothed by the distant-tinkling team,
While lusty labour, scouting sorrow,
Bids the dame a glad good-morrow,
Who jogs th’ accustomed road along,
And paces cheery to her cheering song.
III.
But not our filmy pinion
We scorch amid the blaze of day
When noon-tide’s fiery-tressed minion
Flashes the fervid ray.
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 mantles 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
Of wild-bees hum their drowsy song,
By indolence and fancy brought,
A youthful bard, “unknown to fame,”
Woos 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 sculptured name
To pensive mem’ry dear!
Weaving gay dreams of sunny-tinctured hue
We glance before his view:
O’er his hushed soul our soothing witch’ries shed,
And twine our faery garlands round his head.
V.
When evening’s dusky car
Crowned with her dewy star
Steals o’er the fading sky in shadowy flight;
On leaves of aspen trees
We tremble to the breeze,
Veiled from the grosser ken of mortal sight.
Or, haply at the visionary hour,
Along our wild sequestered walk,
We listen to th’ enamoured 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.
VI.
Or thro’ the mystic ringlets of the vale
We flash our faery feet in gamesome prank;
Or, silent-sandalled, 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
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 wat’ry colours drest,
Float in light drapery o’er thy sable vest;
What time the pale moon sheds a softer ray,
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.
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
Graceful ease in artless stole,
And white-robed purity of soul,
With honour’s softer mien:
Mirth of the loosely-flowing hair
And meek-eyed pity eloquently fair,
Whose tearful cheeks are lovely to the view,
As snow-drop wet with dew.
IX.
Unboastful Maid! tho’ 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 of love!
Samuel Taylor Coleridge.