TO THE FLOWER LOVE-IN-IDLENESS , AND A PETITION TO THE FAIRIES TO BRING INDIFFERENCE . THACKWOOD NOOK , JUNE , 1790. YE fairy Elves from every cell , I warn you to repair , From those in acorn cups who dwell , To those in coral chair ; Indifference bid his poppy give To calm this aching head , And o'er the feelings that will live Its opiate juices shed . Then anxious thoughts shall disappear , The wayward wishes die ; And every forward starting tear Withdraw into the eye . Come , Elfin Puck , I know thee well ; By moonlight have I seen Thee and thy train weave many a spell Beneath yon oaks so green . Once , when the sky was up in arms , With northern lights at war , And thou wast sent for wonderous charms , Not Oberon knew how far ; Within a dark and gloomy shade , Where no star-lamps were hung ; Where the bold torrent thunder made , And Echo's shell was rung ; Where the hoar rock majestic sat , And lent a listening ear ; And where the drowsy half-blind bat Wheel'd round , but wheel'd with fear ; Thou didst a gentle maid behold On the hard rock reclin'd , Whilst all her garment's silken folds Were floating in the wind ; And ever and anon there fell A tear from either eye , That dropt into the deep harebell Which held her cup hard by ; And in her hand a mirror shone O'er which a painted train Of former joys — far past and gone , Would wander back again ; And many a shadowy form was seen To court the yielding heart ; And many a happier hour had been , That died ere it could part ! One form was ever in her eye , And in her heart was found , To catch the vapour of a sigh , And waft it round and round ; Quick in an instant fled away The variegated train ; And all the crowd that seem'd so gay Spread into air again . Ah ! Memory , source of joy and woe , Could'st thou thy mirror stain In such a way as but to show Gay pleasure's sportive train ; Then would I kneel , and bless thy power , And ever round thy shrine Low bend each happy , blissful hour That ever once was mine ; O ! I would kneel from morn till night , And see the setting sun Sink down the sky , and lose his light , Ere half the rites were done . But , ah ! how vain , while one dear shade Still bends its form to me ; And as I stray through time's worn glade , No other form I see ! While every word that softly flow'd Seems yet to court my ear , — The only sound in life's dull road It ever wish'd to hear ! O ! dear Forgetfulness , if e'er Thou wov'st a winding shroud , Or turn'd to pearl one trickling tear That dropp'd from Sorrow's cloud ; O ! Memory , if thy mirror broke When Grief her note would swell , Or by some quick electric stroke Thy forms would all dispel ; O teach a young unpractised maid Her wonted ease to find , And banish far yon winning form That kills her peace of mind ! The Lesbian maid from a high rock Was said her love to quell , Why may not I endure the shock ? She ne'er lov'd half so well ! Just as she rose and reach'd the brink , The fairy sprite was seen To make the rock all slowly sink To the smooth level green ; The roaring flood no more was heard , The wind to whispers fell ; And gay Forgetfulness appear'd To hang upon his spell ; And Memory's mirror darker grew , And objects dimly shone ; And Pleasure on its surface blew , And all the forms were gone . The maid's pale cheek the lily lost , And opening roses stray'd ; Their wonted smiles her eyelids boast , That midst their fringes played . Another form as lowly bends , And tempts her heart away ; But Caution the clos'd ear defends , Lest that fond heart should stray . But yet Persuasion's silver sound Thrills on that heart's soft cords , And many a speaking tone is found To have no need of words . Is there a scene in fairy land Where Happiness can dwell ? O yes , when heart goes with the hand , And weaves the Lover's spell ! Then haste , Indifference thou must bring To shed her calm o'er me , I ask no other earthly thing From thy great Queen and thee ! 'Twas when mild Evening took her views , I made this ardent prayer , Her pencil dipt in silver dews Would paint a softer air ; Sudden within the darkling grove Some tiny feet were heard , And scenes by gay Enchantment wove In magic pomp appear'd . Borne on a high triumphal car Of orient pearl made , The Fairy Queen , like some bright star Shot through the spangl'd glade , Bedeck'd with every gem so bright , That dares reflect the sun , The little Queen in borrow'd light Like some gay meteor shone . Her chariot wheels of topaz , seem With diamonds studded round , Which , like the moonlight , dart a gleam That waves along the ground ; While emeralds an umbrella made , By many an elf upborne , Whose little coats , green as the shade , Bright fairy foils adorn . Midst their Queen's locks of golden thread A beauteous plume there waves : — A humming-bird once made its bed Within the foxglove's caves , And Oberon , to grace his Queen , Had sought the lily's bell , And peep'd in every cup-clos'd flower Where these gay birds can dwell ; At last kind chance conducts his feet To where the slumberer lay ; — Ah ! nought avails the deep retreat , He bears the plume away ! To grace his Queen he bore the prize , When Reconcilement strove Again to kindle with her sighs The flame of smothered love ; For even fairy Elves , we're told , Are sometimes found to jar , And many a little Elfin-scold Is heard by many a star : — Six little , little Indian deer , That boast but half inch height , Would at a word fly every where , And journey through the night . At last the glittering Queen descends , While Elfins bow around ; And one her frosted robe attends , That sweeps the spangl'd ground . To me she bent : — Thou mortal mould , Though seldom Fairies deign Their converse with such wights to hold ; Yet as thou lov'st our train , And dost by moonlight often stray , And acorn cups bestow , — The glowworm deck'st , whose glittering ray Doth on our pathway glow ; There as thy lightsome foot thus treads The lovely fairy scene , Thy hand the dews so neatly threads To hang on grass so green ; I come to say , I've sought each flower , Each fairy herb and tree , But there's not one has any power To work a charm for thee . Indifference will not shed her balm , Nor drowsy poppy lend ; That breast can ne'er be sweetly calm , Where Feeling mourns a friend . Have I not mark'd thee many an hour , With none but Fairies by , Pluck up some story-telling flower , And weep within its eye ? That little eye perchance had seen Some treasure of the heart , Or mark'd the spot where friends had been , Or seen fond lovers part : Beneath yon tree , with names o'ergrown , Have I not heard thy sighs ; And , as embracing every one , Have mark'd thy tear-set eyes ? Think'st thou , when reliques strow the ground And hang on every tree , Indifference will e'er be found To shed her calm o'er thee ! When not a path the friend has trode , But still in fancy's eye It seems the only certain road To meet returning joy ! If , if indeed thou would'st be blest , No dear memorials keep ; And in the aching tortur'd breast Let restless memory sleep . Nor cull the flowers , nor mark the tree , Nor through the pathway rove , Where thou wast wont the friend to see That won thy soul to love ! For Time's hard hand can ne'er deface The likeness of that hour , While soft remembrance keeps its trace — Its mark on every flower . If to forgetfulness thou'lt kneel , I then will bring a charm That o'er thy senses soft shall steal And chill that heart so warm . Come now , and wend along with me ; See'st thou yon tiny flower — So white and dove-like — dost thou see It loves the present hour ? It will not turn its little eye On scenes all past and gone ; It dips its leaf in dewy joy , And still keeps hoping on . Once , once it was a tender maid , And who lov'd far too well ; For her , in the bright glowworm glade , I wrought a wonderous spell . I saw the rose fade on her cheek , The star set in her eye ; I saw the words she durst not speak — E'en to the secret sigh ! I saw the moon fill up her horn , Wane , and grow round again ; Still at return of eve and morn I saw returning pain . And in the dewdrop of the night I found her pearly tear ; And in the hollow wind's soft sound Her sighs moan'd in my ear . Soft Pity touch'd a Fairy's breast , I chang'd her to a flower ; I need not say — thou seest the rest , — She loves the present hour . Do thou from Lethe take a draught , Then wear this smiling flower ; And to the wandering wayward thought Unite the present hour . The blissful bondage soon shall prove A source of lasting ease , For , with the present hour in love , The smallest thing shall please .