Part 14
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.
FAIRY FAVOURS.
Would’st thou wear the gift of immortal bloom? Would’st thou smile in scorn at the shadowy tomb? Drink of this cup! it is richly fraught With balm from the gardens of genii brought; Drink, and the spoiler shall pass thee by, When the young all scattered like rose-leaves lie.
And would not the youth of my soul be gone, If the loved had left me, one by one? Take back the cup that may never bless, The gift that would make me brotherless; How should I live with no kindred eye To reflect mine immortality?
Would’st thou have empire, by sign or spell, Over the mighty in air that dwell? Would’st thou call the spirits of shore and steep To fetch thee jewels from ocean’s deep? Wave but this rod, and a viewless band, Slaves to thy will, shall around thee stand.
And would not fear, at my coming then, Hush every voice in the homes of men? Would not bright eyes in my presence quail? Young cheeks with a nameless thrill turn pale? No gift be mine that aside would turn The human love for whose founts I yearn!
Would’st thou then read through the hearts of those Upon whose faith thou hast sought repose? Wear this rich gem! it is charm’d to show When a change comes over affection’s glow, Look on its flushing or fading hue, And learn if the trusted be false or true!
Keep, keep the gem, that I still may trust, Though my heart’s wealth be but pour’d on dust! Let not a doubt in my soul have place, To dim the light of a loved one’s face; Leave to the earth its warm sunny smile— That glory would pass could I look on guile!
Say, then, what boon of my power shall be, Favour’d of spirits! pour’d forth on thee? Thou scornest the treasures of wave and mine, Thou wilt not drink of the cup divine, Thou art fain with a mortal’s lot to rest— Answer me! how may I grace it best?
Oh! give me no sway o’er the powers unseen, But a human heart where my own may lean! A friend, one tender and faithful friend, Whose thoughts’ free current with mine may blend, And leaving not either on earth alone, Bid the bright calm close of our lives be one!
FELICIA HEMANS.
WATER-LILIES: A FAIRY SONG.
Come away, elves! while the dew is sweet, Come to the dingles where fairies meet; Know that the lilies have spread their bells O’er all the pools in our forest dells; Stilly and lightly their vases rest On the quivering sleep of the water’s breast, Catching the sunshine through leaves that throw To their scented bosoms an emerald glow; And a star from the depth of each pearly cup, A golden star unto heaven looks up, As if seeking its kindred where bright they lie, Set in the blue of the summer sky. —Come away! under arching boughs we’ll float, Making those urns each a fairy boat; We’ll row them with reeds o’er the fountains free, And a tall flag-leaf shall our streamer be, And we’ll send out wild music so sweet and low, It shall seem from the bright flower’s heart to flow, As if ’twere a breeze with a flute’s low sigh, Or water drops train’d into melody. —Come away! for the midsummer sun grows strong, And the life of the lily may not be long.
FELICIA HEMANS.
FANTASIES.
I.
I’m weary, I’m weary,—this cold world of ours; I will go dwell afar, with fairies and flowers. Farewell to the festal, the hall of the dance, Where each step is a study, a falsehood each glance; Where the vain are displaying, the vapid are yawning; Where the beauty of night, the glory of dawning, Are wasted, as Fashion, that tyrant, at will Makes war on sweet nature, and exiles her still.
II.
I’m weary, I’m weary,—I’m off with the wind: Can I find a worse fate than the one left behind? —Fair beings of moonlight, gay dwellers in air, O show me your kingdom! O let me dwell there! I see them, I see them!—how sweet it must be To sleep in yon lily!—is there room in’t for me? I have flung my clay fetters; and now I but wear A shadowy seeming, a likeness of air.
III.
Go harness my chariot, the leaf of an oak; A butterfly stud, and a tendril my yoke. Go swing me a hammock, the poles mignionette; I’ll rock with its scent in the gossamer net. Go fetch me a courser: yon reed is but slight, Yet far is the distance ’twill bear me to-night. I must have a throne,—ay, yon mushroom may stay, It has sprung in a night, ’twill be gather’d next day: And fit is such throne for my brief fairy reign; For alas! I’m but dreaming, and dreams are but vain.
L. E. L.
THE CITY OF GOLD.
Years onward have swept, Aye, long ages have rolled— Since the billows first slept O’er the City of Gold!
’Neath its eddy of white Where the green wave is swelling, In their halls of delight Are the fairy tribes dwelling.
And but seldom the eye Of a mortal may scan, Where those palaces high Rise unaided by man.
Yet, at times the waves sever, And then you may view The yellow walls ever ’Neath the ocean’s deep blue.
But I warn thee, O man! Never seek to behold, Where the crystal streams ran In the City of Gold!
Like a beauty with guile, When some young knight has found her, There is death in her smile, And dark ruin around her!
Like a poet’s first dream In his longings for glory; A dagger whose gleam With the life-blood is gory.
Like wishes possessed, And for which we have panted, When we find us unblest, Tho’ our prayers have been granted.
Like ought that’s forbidden Weak man to behold, Death and sorrow are hid in The City of Gold.
Rash youth! dost thou view it, The ransom thou’lt pay, Alas! thou must rue it, Death takes thee to-day!
ANONYMOUS.
THE FAIRIES.
Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren’t go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl’s feather!
Down along the rocky shore Some make their home, They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide-foam; Some in the reeds Of the black mountain lake, With frogs for their watch-dogs, All night awake.
High on the hill-top The old King sits; He is now so old and gray He’s nigh lost his wits. With a bridge of white mist Columbkill he crosses, On his stately journeys From Slieveleague to Rosses; Or going up with music On cold starry nights, To sup with the Queen Of the gay Northern Lights.
They stole little Bridget For seven years long; When she came down again Her friends were all gone. They took her lightly back, Between the night and morrow, They thought that she was fast asleep, But she was dead with sorrow. They have kept her ever since Deep within the lake, On a bed of flag-leaves, Watching till she wake.
By the craggy hill-side, Through the mosses bare, They have planted thorn-trees For pleasure here and there. Is any man so daring As dig up them in spite, He shall find their sharpest thorns In his bed at night.
Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren’t go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl’s feather!
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.
THE MAIDS OF ELFIN-MERE.
’Twas when the spinning-room was here, Came Three Damsels clothed in white, With their spindles every night; Two and one, and Three fair Maidens, Spinning to a pulsing cadence, Singing songs of Elfin-Mere; Till the eleventh hour was told, Then departed through the wold. _Years ago, and years ago;_ _And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow._
Three white Lilies, calm and clear, And they were loved by every one; Most of all, the Parson’s son, Listening to their gentle singing, Felt his heart go from him, clinging, Round these Maids of Elfin-Mere; Sued each night to make them stay, Sadden’d when they went away. _Years ago, and years ago;_ _And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow._
Hands that shook with love and fear, Dared put back the village clock,— Flew the spindle, turn’d the rock, Flow’d the song with subtle rounding, Till the false “eleven” was sounding; Then these Maids of Elfin-Mere Swiftly, softly, left the room, Like three doves on snowy plume. _Years ago, and years ago;_ _And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow._
One that night who wander’d near Heard lamentings by the shore, Saw at dawn three stains of gore In the waters fade and dwindle. Nevermore with song and spindle Saw we Maids of Elfin-Mere. The Pastor’s Son did pine and die; Because true love should never lie. _Years ago, and years ago;_ _And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow._
WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.
Epilogue.
FAREWELL TO THE FAIRIES.
Farewell rewards and fairies, Good housewives now may say, For now foul sluts in dairies Do fare as well as they. And though they sweep their hearths no less Than maids were wont to do, Yet who of late, for cleanliness, Finds sixpence in her shoe?
Lament, lament, old abbeys, The fairies lost command; They did but change priests’ babies, But some have changed your land; And all your children sprung from thence Are now grown Puritans; Who live as changelings ever since, For love of your domains.
At morning and at evening both, You merry were and glad, So little care of sleep or sloth These pretty ladies had; When Tom came home from labour, Or Cis to milking rose, Then merrily went their tabour, And nimbly went their toes.
Witness those rings and roundelays Of theirs, which yet remain, Were footed in Queen Mary’s days On many a grassy plain; But since of late Elizabeth, And later, James came in, They never danced on any heath As when the time hath been.
By which we note the fairies Were of the old profession, Their songs were Ave Maries, Their dances were procession: But now, alas! they all are dead, Or gone beyond the seas; Or farther for religion fled, Or else they take their ease.
A tell-tale in their company They never could endure, And whoso kept not secretly Their mirth, was punished sore; It was a just and Christian deed To pinch such black and blue; Oh, how the Commonwealth doth need Such justices as you.
RICHARD CORBET.
FAIRY SONG.
Have ye left the greenwood lone? Are your steps for ever gone? Fairy King and Elfin Queen, Come ye to the sylvan scene, From your dim and distant shore, Never more?
Shall the pilgrim never hear With a thrill of joy and fear, In the hush of moonlight hours, Voices from the folded flowers, Faint sweet flute-notes as of yore, Never more?
“Mortal! ne’er shall bowers of earth Hear again our midnight mirth: By our brooks and dingles green Since unhallow’d steps have been, Ours shall thread the forests hoar Never more.
Ne’er on earthborn lily’s stem Will we hang the dewdrop’s gem; Ne’er shall reed or cowslip’s head Quiver to our dancing tread, By sweet fount or murmuring shore, Never more!”
FELICIA HEMANS.
AN INVOCATION.
By the Moon-Queen’s mystic light, By the hush of holy night, By the woodland deep and green, By the starlight’s silver sheen, By the zephyr’s whisper’d spell, Brooding Powers Invisible, Faërie Court and Elfin Throng, Unto whom the groves belong, And by Laws of ancient date, Found in Scrolls of Faërie Fate, Stream and fount are dedicate, Wheresoe’er your feet to-day, Far from haunts of men may stray, We adjure you, stay no more, Exiles on an alien shore, But with spells of magic birth Once again make glad the earth!
Here in glade and dingle sweet Ye may find a snug retreat: Can ye wish for softer bed Than the moss that here is spread? Here the mavis’ voice is heard, Every late and early bird; Many a tendril’s slender string Here is fit for fairy swing; Purling brooks and founts that play Make sweet music night and day; In the lakes that stedfast lie Under Heaven’s eternal eye, The blown lilies, waiting, float, Each will serve as elfin boat; Tender as a harper’s string Is the low wind’s lute-playing; Never do the evening dews Nectar to the flowers refuse: Who shall find a fairer spot? Linger, fairies, linger not!
...
Still the woods are dark and lonely; There the throstle calleth only— There alone the throstle calleth As the silent twilight falleth; All the magic spells are broken, All the ancient charms unspoken. Who to human tongues shall teach That forgotten fairy speech, By whose aid the world of old Did with Nature commune hold? ’Tis the pride of human hearts Whence the gentle fay departs! Ye who now their loss deplore, Ye who would their reign restore, Know that fervent faith and worth Elfin blessings bring to earth; Purest thoughts are brightest chrism In the mystical baptism, Which to those elected duly Lifts the veil, revealing truly Elfin worlds in ’rapt clairvoyance, Elfin marvels, Elfin joyance, Elfin vistas, Elfin vision, Elfin voices, dreams Elysian, Fay-built isles and seas that be Glamour all and gramarye. Where shall point the Elfin wing? Worlds of pure imagining; Then where virtue rules the heart Thence the Fairies ne’er depart!
PHILIP DAYRE.
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