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THE PIXIES.
23
VII.
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.
Sorc'ress of the ebon throne!
Thy power the Pixies own,
When round thy raven brow
Heaven's lucent roses glow,
And clouds, in watry colours drest,
Float in light drapery o'er thy fable vest:
What time the pale moon sheds a softer day
Mellowing the woods beneath its pensive beam:
For mid the quiv'ring light 'tis our's to play,
Aye-dancing to the cadence of the stream.
