THE CULPRIT FAY Joseph Rodman Drake "My visual orbs are purged from film, and lo! I see old fairy-land's miraculous show! Her trees of tinsel kissed by freakish gales, Her Ouphs that, cloaked in leaf-gold, skim the breeze, The earth is dark, but the heavens are bright; Nought is seen in the vault on high But the moon, and the stars and the cloudless sky, A river of light on the welkin blue. She mellows the shades on his shaggy breast, In a silver cone on the wave below; By the walnut bough and the cedar made, II The stars are on the moving stream, In an eel-like, spiral line below; And the plaint of the wailing whip-poor-will, Till morning spreads her rosy wings, And earth and sky in her glances glow. III 'Tis the hour of fairy ban and spell; The wood-tick has kept the minutes well; He has counted them all with click and stroke, And he has awakened the sentry elve Who sleeps with him in the haunted tree, To bid him ring the hour of twelve, Twelve small strokes on his tinkling bell— Hither, hither, wing your way! 'Tis the dawn of the fairy day." IV They come from beds of lichen green, They creep from the mullein's velvet screen; Some on the backs of beetles fly From the silver tops of moon-touched trees, Where they swung in their cobweb hammocks high, And rock'd about in the evening breeze; Some from the humbird's downy nest They had driven him out by elfin power, And pillowed on plumes of his rainbow breast, Had slumbered there till the charméd hour; Some had lain in the scoop of the rock, With glittering rising-stars inlaid; And some had opened the four-o'clock, Their little minim forms arrayed In the tricksy pomp of fairy pride! V They come not now to print the lea, And left for her his woodland shade; To the elfin court must haste away:- VI. The throne was reared upon the grass Of spicewood and of sassafras; Hung the burnished canopy- The prisoner Fay was at his feet, And his peers were ranged around the throne. He waved his sceptre in the air, He looked around and calmly spoke; His brow was grave and his eye severe, But his voice in a softened accent broke: VII "Fairy! fairy! list and mark: Thou hast broke thine elfin chain, Thy flame-wood lamp is quenched and dark, And thy wings are died with a deadly stain Thou hast sullied thine elfin purity In the glance of a mortal maiden's eye, Thou hast scorned our dread decree, And thou shouldst pay the forfeit high, But well I know her sinless mind Is pure as the angel forms above, Gentle and meek, and chaste and kind, Tossed on the pricks of nettle's stings; |