SONGS OF THE PIXIES. At a The PIXIES, in the superstition of Devonshire, are a race of beings invisibly small, and harmless or friendly to man. 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 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 the following Irregular Ode was written. I. WHOм 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 Richer than the deepened bloom That glows on Summer's lily-scented plume: Or sport amid the rosy gleam 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: 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, V. When EVENING's dusky car 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 electric flash, that from the melting eye VI. Or through the mystic ringlets of the vale Then with quaint music hymn the parting gleam, Or where his wave with loud unquiet song VII. Hence! thou lingerer, LIGHT! EVE saddens into NIGHT. Mother of wildly-working dreams! we view Thy power the PIXIES Own, 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 our's to play, Aye dancing to the cadence of the stream. VIII. Welcome, LADIES! to the cell Where the blameless PIXIES dwell: |