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Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Сэмюэл Тэйлор Кольридж) 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 accustomed 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-tressed minion Flashes the fervid ray. 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 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 sculptured name To pensive Memory dear! Weaving gay dreams of sunny-tinctured 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 Crowned with her dewy star Steals o'er the fading sky in shadowy flight; On leaves of aspen trees We tremble to the breeze Veiled from the grosser ken of mortal sight. Or, haply, at the visionary hour, Along our wildly-bowered sequestered walk, We listen to the enamoured 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 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 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! 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! 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! Samuel Taylor Coleridge's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 3078 |
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