Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 4, October 1852Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 4, October 1852
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
’Twas the hour of twelve, the bright, witching hour,
That I gazed on this slumber of night,
And thought of the time when the fairies had power
To dance, while he slept o’ercome by moonlight.
While thus the proud giant lay hushed in repose,
There suddenly burst from the bosom of earth
A strain of low music, that swelled as it rose
Till it seemed the outpouring of gladness and mirth.
At the sound of this music the flowers awoke—
Their bright little cups in a moment expand—
When lo! from these cells there suddenly broke,
As freed by some magic, a gay fairy band.
Each flower sent forth a sweet laughing elf,
Whom safely it guarded from danger by day,
And kept closely prisoned, in spite of itself,
Till their queen gave the elfins permission to play.
Their prisons then opened, and out they came streaming,
From the cell of each flower that was blooming around,
Methought, for a while, I surely was dreaming,
I knew not that earth did with fairies abound.
I saw the bright cerius its golden rays spread,
Its snowy-white petals next slowly unfold,
And forth from its centre, whence fragrance is shed,
Came the queen of the fairies in emerald and gold.
From the leaves of the rose-bud, from the violet’s cell,
From the depths of the fuchia, they merrily sprung;
A thousand seemed hid in the jessamine’s bell,
And e’en on the bachelor’s-button they hung.
Away they all sped with the swiftness of thought,
To form a bright court for their lovely young queen,
Who, borne on the wings of a zephyr, was brought
To grace with her presence their dance on the green.
I saw them then dance around an old oak,
To the sound of that heart-stirring strain,
Till, growing too noisy, old Darkness awoke
And sent them all back to their flowers again.
Then slowly the giant arose from his rest,
His mantle of glory aside he first cast,
Then frowned on the moon till she sunk in the west,
For she knew that her hour of triumph was past.
Yes, yes it was o’er, and darkness again
Spread out his broad wings for a while,
Till the light of the Morn, as she rose o’er the plain,
Dispelled all his gloom by her smile;
She breathed on the stars till they melted in dew,
Which she shed on the flowers around—
And I said in my heart as I bade them adieu,
I know where the Fairies are found.
* * * * *
=CANADIAN LIFE.=
=BY MRS. MOODY.=
JEANIE BURNS.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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