SONGS OF THE PIXIES. 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 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. HOM the untaught Shepherds call Fancy's children, here we dwell: Here the wren of softest note II. When fades the moon all shadowy-pale, That glows on summer's 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: Round them their mantle 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 As round our sandy grot appear Weaving gay dreams of sunny-tinctured hue O'er his hushed soul our soothing witcheries shed And twine our faery garlands round his head. 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 wild sequestered walk, We listen to the enamoured rustic's talk; VI. Or through 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 Thy power the Pixies own, VIII. Welcome, Ladies! to the cell Where the blameless Pixies dwell: But thou, sweet Nymph! proclaimed our Faery Queen, Thy presence shall we greet? Mirth of the loosely-flowing hair, IX. Unboastful Maid! though now the lily pale THE RAVEN. A CHRISTMAS TALE, TOLD BY A SCHOOL-BOY TO HIS LITTLE BROTHERS AND SISTERS. NDERNEATH a huge oak tree Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high: Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet. He went high and low, Over hill, over dale, did the black Raven go. |