Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Songs of the Pixies
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 to shadowy-pale,
And scuds the cloud before the gale,
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,
Who jogs the accustom'd road along,
And paces cheery to her cheering song.

III
                        But not our filmy pinion
                We scorch amid the blaze of day,
                When Noontide's fiery-tresséd minion
                                Flashes the fervid ray.
                        Aye from the sultry heat
                        We to the cave retreat
O'ercanopied by huge roots intertwin'd
With wildest texture, blacken'd o'er with age:
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.

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
                Many a rudely-sculptur'd name
                                To pensive Memory dear!
Weaving gay dreams of sunny-tinctur'd hue,
                We glance before his view:
O'er his hush'd soul our soothing witcheries shed
And twine the future garland round his head.

V
                                When Evening's dusky car
                                Crown'd with her dewy star
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
The glance that from the half-confessing eye
Darts the fond question or the soft reply.

VI
                Or through 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;
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.

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 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.

VIII
                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-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! 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!