Songs of the Pixies (unsourced)

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

[1]

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 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.

1.
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.

2.
When fades the moon to shadowy-pale,
And scuds the cloud before the gale,  10
Ere the Morn all gem-bedight
Hath streak’d the East with rosy light,
We sip the furze-flower’s fragrant dews
Clad in robes of rainbow hues;
Or sport amid the shooting gleams
To the tune of distant-tinkling teams,
While lusty Labour scouting sorrow
Bids the Dame a glad good-morrow,  20
Who jogs the accustom’d road along,
And paces cheery to her cheering song.

3.
But not our filmy pinion
We scorch amid the blaze of day,
When NOONTIDE’s fiery-tressed Minion
Flashes the fervid ray.
Aye from the sultry heat
We to the cave retreat
O’er canopied by huge roots intertwin’d
With wildest texture, blacken’d o’er with age:  30
Round them their mantle green the ivies bind,
Beneath whose foliage pale
Fann’d by the unfrequent gale
We shield us from the Tyrant’s mid-day rage

4.
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 mis'ry of a Sigh  40
Gazing with tearful eye,
As round our sandy grot appear
Many a rudely-sculptur’d name
To pensive MEM'RY dear!
Weaving gay dreams of sunny-tinctur’d hue,
We glance before his view:
O’er his hush’d soul our soothing Witch'ries shed
And twine the future garland round his head.

5.
When EVENING’s dusky Car
Crown’d with her dewy Star  50
Steals o’er the fading sky in shadowy flight;
On leaves of aspen trees
We tremble to the breeze
Veil’d from the grosser ken of mortal sight.
Or, haply, at the visionary hour,
Along our wildly-bower’d sequester’d walk
We listen to the enamour’d Rustic’s Talk;
Heave with the heavings of the Maiden’s Breast
Where young-eyed LOVES have hid 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:

6.
Or thro' the mystic ringlets of the vale
We flash our faery feet in gamesome prank;
Or, silent-sandal’d, 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;  70
Or where his wave with loud unquiet song
Dash’d o’er the rocky channel froths along;
Or where, his silver waters smooth’d to rest,
The tall tree’s shadow sleeps upon his breast.

7.
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.  80
SORC'RESS of the ebon Throne!
Thy power the PIXIES own,
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 quiv'ring Light tis ours to play,
Aye-dancing to the cadence of the stream.  90

8.
Welcome, LADIES! to the cell
Where the blameless PIXIES dwell:
But thou, Sweet Nymph! proclaim’d 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-rob'd PURITY of Soul,
With HONOR’s softer mien:
MIRTH of the loosely-flowing Hair,  100
And meek-ey'd PITY eloquently fair,
Whose tearful cheeks are lovely to the view,
As snow-drop wet with dew.

9.
Unboastful Maid! tho' now the Lily pale
Transparent grace thy beauties meek;
Yet ere again along the impurpled Vale
And elfin-haunted Grove
Young Zephyr his fresh flowrets strews,
We’ll tinge with livelier hues thy cheek,
And haply from the nectar-breathing Rose  110
Extract a BLUSH for LOVE!