THE GLOW-WORM. Ann Radcliffe (née Ward) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Radcliffe, Ann Ward, 1764-1823. The Poems of Mrs. Ann Radcliffe. London printed by and for J. Smith, Princes Street 1816 pp. 44-48. 118p. [Radcliffe's poems only, pp. 1-95]

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THE GLOW-WORM . How pleasant is the green-wood's deep-matted shade On a midsummer's eve , when the fresh rain is o'er ; When the yellow beams slope , and sparkle thro' the glade , And swiftly in the thin air the light swallows soar ! But sweeter , sweeter still , when the sun sinks to rest , And twilight comes on , with the fairies so gay Tripping through the forest-walk , where flow'rs , unprest , Bow not their tall heads beneath their frolic play . To music's softest sounds they dance away the hour , 'Till moon-light steals down among the trembling leaves , And checquers all the ground , and guides them to the bow'r , The long haunted bow'r , where the nightingale grieves . Then no more they dance , 'till her sad song is done , But , silent as the night , to her mourning attend ; And often as her dying notes their pity have won , They vow all her sacred haunts from mortals to defend . When , down among the mountains , sinks the ev'ning star , And the changing moon forsakes this shadowy sphere , How cheerless would they be , tho' they fairies are , If I , with my pale light , came not near ! Yet cheerless tho' they'd be , they're ungrateful to my love ! For , often when the traveller is benighted on his way , And I glimmer in his path , and would guide him thro' the grove , They bind me in their magic spells to lead him far astray ; And in the mire to leave him , till the stars are all burnt out , While , in strange-looking shapes , they frisk about the ground , And , afar in the woods , they raise a dismal shout , 'Till I shrink into my cell again for terror of the sound ! But , see where all the tiny elves come dancing in a ring , With the merry , merry pipe , and the labor , and the horn , And the timbrel so clear , and the lute with dulcet string ; Then round about the oak they go 'till peeping of the morn . Down yonder glade two lovers steal , to shun the fairy-queen , Who frowns upon their plighted vows , and jealous is of me , That yester-eve I lighted them , along the dewy green , To seek the purple flow'r , whose juice from all her spells can free . And now , to punish me , she keeps afar her jocund band , With the merry , merry pipe , and the tabor , and the lute ; If I creep near yonder oak she will wave her fairy wand , And to me the dance will cease , and the music all be mute . O ! had I but that purple flow'r whose leaves her charms can foil , And knew like fays to draw the juice , and throw it on the wind , I'd be her slave no longer , nor the traveller beguile , And help all faithful lovers , nor fear the fairy kind ! But soon the vapour of the woods will wander afar , And the fickle moon will fade , and the stars disappear , Then , cheerless will they be , tho' they fairies are , If I , with my pale light , come not near !