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Thomas Hood - The Plea Of The Midsummer Fairies
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"But here upon his final desperate clause 
Suddenly I pronounced so sweet a strain, 
Like a pang`d nightingale, it made him pause, 
Till half the frenzy of his grief was slain, 
The sad remainder oozing from his brain 
In timely ecstasies of healing tears, 
Which through his ardent eyes began to drain;— 
Meanwhile the deadly Fates unclosed their shears:— 
So pity me and all my fated peers!"

 
LXXIX
 
Thus Ariel ended, and was some time hush`d: 
When with the hoary shape a fresh tongue pleads, 
And red as rose the gentle Fairy blush`d 
To read the records of her own good deeds:— 
"It chanced," quoth she, "in seeking through the meads 
For honied cowslips, sweetest in the morn, 
Whilst yet the buds were hung with dewy beads." 
And Echo answered to the huntsman`s horn, 
We found a babe left in the swaths forlorn.

 
LXXX
 
"A little, sorrowful, deserted thing, 
Begot of love, and yet no love begetting; 
Guiltless of shame, and yet for shame to wring; 
And too soon banish`d from a mother`s petting, 
To churlish nurture and the wide world`s fretting, 
For alien pity and unnatural care;— 
Alas! to see how the cold dew kept wetting 
His childish coats, and dabbled all his hair, 
Like gossamers across his forehead fair."

 
LXXXI
 
"His pretty pouting mouth, witless of speech, 
Lay half-way open like a rose-lipp`d shell; 
And his young cheek was softer than a peach, 
Whereon his tears, for roundness, could not dwell, 
But quickly roll`d themselves to pearls, and fell, 
Some on the grass, and some against his hand, 
Or haply wander`d to the dimpled well, 
Which love beside his mouth had sweetly plann`d, 
Yet not for tears, but mirth and smilings bland."

 
LXXXII
 
"Pity it was to see those frequent tears 
Falling regardless from his friendless eyes; 
There was such beauty in those twin blue spheres, 
As any mother`s heart might leap to prize; 
Blue were they, like the zenith of the skies 
Softened betwixt two clouds, both clear and mild;— 
Just touched with thought, and yet not over wise, 
They show`d the gentle spirit of a child, 
Not yet by care or any craft defiled."

 
LXXXIII
 
"Pity it was to see the ardent sun 
Scorching his helpless limbs—it shone so warm; 
For kindly shade or shelter he had none, 
Nor mother`s gentle breast, come fair or storm. 
Meanwhile I bade my pitying mates transform 
Like grasshoppers, and then, with shrilly cries, 
All round the infant noisily we swarm, 
Haply some passing rustic to advise— 
Whilst providential Heaven our care espies."

 
LXXXIV
 
"And sends full soon a tender-hearted hind, 
Who, wond`ring at our loud unusual note, 
Strays curiously aside, and so doth find 
The orphan child laid in the grass remote, 
And laps the foundling in his russet coat, 
Who thence was nurtured in his kindly cot:— 
But how he prosper`d let proud London quote, 
How wise, how rich, and how renown`d he got, 
And chief of all her citizens, I wot."

 
LXXXV
 
"Witness his goodly vessels on the Thames, 
Whose holds were fraught with costly merchandise,— 
Jewels from Ind, and pearls for courtly dames, 
And gorgeous silks that Samarcand supplies: 
Witness that Royal Bourse he bade arise, 
The mart of merchants from the East and West: 
Whose slender summit, pointing to the skies, 
Still bears, in token of his grateful breast, 
The tender grasshopper, his chosen crest—"

 
LXXXVI
 
"The tender grasshopper, his chosen crest, 
That all the summer, with a tuneful wing, 
Makes merry chirpings in its grassy nest, 
Inspirited with dew to leap and sing:— 
So let us also live, eternal King! 
Partakers of the green and pleasant earth:— 
Pity it is to slay the meanest thing, 
That, like a mote, shines in the smile of mirth:— 
Enough there is of joy`s decrease and dearth!"

 
LXXXVII
 
"Enough of pleasure, and delight, and beauty, 
Perish`d and gone, and hasting to decay;— 
Enough to sadden even thee, whose duty 
Or spite it is to havoc and to slay: 
Too many a lovely race razed quite away, 
Hath left large gaps in life and human loving;— 
Here then begin thy cruel war to stay, 
And spare fresh sighs, and tears, and groans, reproving 
Thy desolating hand for our removing."

 
LXXXVIII
 
Now here I heard a shrill and sudden cry, 
And, looking up, I saw the antic Puck 
Grappling with Time, who clutch`d him like a fly, 
Victim of his own sport,—the jester`s luck! 
He, whilst his fellows grieved, poor wight, had stuck 
His freakish gauds upon the Ancient`s brow, 
And now his ear, and now his beard, would pluck; 
Whereas the angry churl had snatched him now, 
Crying, "Thou impish mischief, who art thou?" 


LXXXIX
 
"Alas!" quoth Puck, "a little random elf, 
Born in the sport of nature, like a weed, 
For simple sweet enjoyment of myself, 
But for no other purpose, worth, or need; 
And yet withal of a most happy breed; 
And there is Robin Goodfellow besides, 
My partner dear in many a prankish deed 
To make dame Laughter hold her jolly sides, 
Like merry mummers twain on holy tides."

 
XC
 
"`Tis we that bob the angler`s idle cork, 
Till e`en the patient man breathes half a curse; 
We steal the morsel from the gossip`s fork, 
And curdling looks with secret straws disperse, 
Or stop the sneezing chanter at mid verse: 
And when an infant`s beauty prospers ill, 
We change, some mothers say, the child at nurse: 
But any graver purpose to fulfil, 
We have not wit enough, and scarce the will."

 
XCI
 
"We never let the canker melancholy 
To gather on our faces like a rust, 
But glass our features with some change of folly, 
Taking life`s fabled miseries on trust, 
But only sorrowing when sorrow must: 
We ruminate no sage`s solemn cud, 
But own ourselves a pinch of lively dust 
To frisk upon a wind,—whereas the flood 
Of tears would turn us into heavy mud."

 
XCII
 
"Beshrew those sad interpreters of nature, 
Who gloze her lively universal law, 
As if she had not form`d our cheerful feature 
To be so tickled with the slightest straw! 
So let them vex their mumbling mouths, and draw 
The corners downward, like a wat`ry moon, 
And deal in gusty sighs and rainy flaw— 
We will not woo foul weather all too soon, 
Or nurse November on the lap of June."

 
XCIII
 
"For ours are winging sprites, like any bird, 
That shun all stagnant settlements of grief; 
And even in our rest our hearts are stirr`d, 
Like insects settled on a dancing leaf:— 
This is our small philosophy in brief, 
Which thus to teach hath set me all agape: 
But dost thou relish it? O hoary chief! 
Unclasp thy crooked fingers from my nape, 
And I will show thee many a pleasant scrape."

 
XCIV
 
Then Saturn thus:—shaking his crooked blade 
O`erhead, which made aloft a lightning flash 
In all the fairies` eyes, dismally fray`d! 
His ensuing voice came like the thunder crash— 
Meanwhile the bolt shatters some pine or ash— 
"Thou feeble, wanton, foolish, fickle thing! 
Whom nought can frighten, sadden, or abash,— 
To hope my solemn countenance to wring 
To idiot smiles!—but I will prune thy wing!"

 
XCV
 
"Lo! this most awful handle of my scythe 
Stood once a May-pole, with a flowery crown, 
Which rustics danced around, and maidens blithe, 
To wanton pipings;—but I pluck`d it down, 
And robed the May Queen in a churchyard gown, 
Turning her buds to rosemary and rue; 
And all their merry minstrelsy did drown, 
And laid each lusty leaper in the dew;— 
So thou shalt fare—and every jovial crew!"

 
XCVI
 
Here he lets go the struggling imp, to clutch. 
His mortal engine with each grisly hand, 
Which frights the elfin progeny so much, 
They huddle in a heap, and trembling stand 
All round Titania, like the queen bee`s band, 
With sighs and tears and very shrieks of woe!— 
Meanwhile, some moving argument I plann`d, 
To make the stern Shade merciful,—when lo! 
He drops his fatal scythe without a blow!

 
XCVII

For, just at need, a timely Apparition 
Steps in between, to bear the awful brunt; 
Making him change his horrible position, 
To marvel at this comer, brave and blunt, 
That dares Time`s irresistible affront, 
Whose strokes have scarr`d even the gods of old;— 
Whereas this seem`d a mortal, at mere hunt 
For coneys, lighted by the moonshine cold, 
Or stalker of stray deer, stealthy and bold.

 
XCVIII
 
Who, turning to the small assembled fays, 
Doffs to the lily queen his courteous cap, 
And holds her beauty for a while in gaze, 
With bright eyes kindling at this pleasant hap; 
And thence upon the fair moon`s silver map, 
As if in question of this magic chance, 
Laid like a dream upon the green earth`s lap; 
And then upon old Saturn turns askance, 
Exclaiming, with a glad and kindly glance:—

 
XCIX
 
"Oh, these be Fancy`s revelers by night! 
Stealthy companions of the downy moth— 
Diana`s motes, that flit in her pale light, 
Shunners of sunbeams in diurnal sloth;— 
These be the feasters on night`s silver cloth;— 
The gnat with shrilly trump is their convener, 
Forth from their flowery chambers, nothing loth, 
With lulling tunes to charm the air serener, 
Or dance upon the grass to make it greener."

 
C
 
"These be the pretty genii of the flow`rs, 
Daintily fed with honey and pure dew— 
Midsummer`s phantoms in her dreaming hours, 
King Oberon, and all his merry crew, 
The darling puppets of romance`s view; 
Fairies, and sprites, and goblin elves we call them, 
Famous for patronage of lovers true;— 
No harm they act, neither shall harm befall them, 
So do not thus with crabbed frowns appal them."

 
CI
 
O what a cry was Saturn`s then!—it made 
The fairies quake. "What care I for their pranks, 
However they may lovers choose to aid, 
Or dance their roundelays on flow`ry banks?— 
Long must they dance before they earn my thanks,— 
So step aside, to some far safer spot, 
Whilst with my hungry scythe I mow their ranks, 
And leave them in the sun, like weeds, to rot, 
And with the next day`s sun to be forgot."

 
CII
 
Anon, he raised afresh his weapon keen; 
But still the gracious Shade disarm`d his aim, 
Stepping with brave alacrity between, 
And made his sore arm powerless and tame. 
His be perpetual glory, for the shame 
Of hoary Saturn in that grand defeat!— 
But I must tell how here Titania, came 
With all her kneeling lieges, to entreat 
His kindly succor, in sad tones, but sweet.

 
CIII
 
Saying, "Thou seest a wretched queen before thee, 
The fading power of a failing land, 
Who for a kingdom kneeleth to implore thee, 
Now menaced by this tyrant`s spoiling hand; 
No one but thee can hopefully withstand 
That crooked blade, he longeth so to lift. 
I pray thee blind him with his own vile sand, 
Which only times all ruins by its drift, 
Or prune his eagle wings that are so swift."

 
CIV
 
"Or take him by that sole and grizzled tuft, 
That hangs upon his bald and barren crown; 
And we will sing to see him so rebuff`d, 
And lend our little mights to pull him down, 
And make brave sport of his malicious frown, 
For all his boastful mockery o`er men. 
For thou wast born, I know, for this renown, 
By my most magical and inward ken, 
That readeth ev`n at Fate`s forestalling pen."

 
CV
 
"Nay, by the golden lustre of thine eye, 
And by thy brow`s most fair and ample span, 
Thought`s glorious palace, framed for fancies high, 
And by thy cheek thus passionately wan, 
I know the signs of an immortal man,— 
Nature`s chief darling, and illustrious mate, 
Destined to foil old Death`s oblivious plan, 
And shine untarnish`d by the fogs of Fate, 
Time`s famous rival till the final date!"

 
CVI
 
"O shield us then from this usurping Time, 
And we will visit thee in moonlight dreams; 
And teach thee tunes, to wed unto thy rhyme, 
And dance about thee in all midnight gleams, 
Giving thee glimpses of our magic schemes, 
Such as no mortal`s eye hath ever seen; 
And, for thy love to us in our extremes, 
Will ever keep thy chaplet fresh and green, 
Such as no poet`s wreath hath ever been!"

 
CVII
 
"And we`ll distil thee aromatic dews, 
To charm thy sense, when there shall be no flow`rs; 
And flavor`d syrups in thy drinks infuse, 
And teach the nightingale to haunt thy bow`rs, 
And with our games divert thy weariest hours, 
With all that elfin wits can e`er devise. 
And, this churl dead, there`ll be no hasting hours 
To rob thee of thy joys, as now joy flies":— 
Here she was stopp`d by Saturn`s furious cries.]


 
CVIII
 
Whom, therefore, the kind Shade rebukes anew, 
Saying, "Thou haggard Sin, go forth, and scoop 
Thy hollow coffin in some churchyard yew, 
Or make th` autumnal flow`rs turn pale, and droop; 
Or fell the bearded corn, till gleaners stoop 
Under fat sheaves,—or blast the piny grove;— 
But here thou shall not harm this pretty group, 
Whose lives are not so frail and feebly wove, 
But leased on Nature`s loveliness and love."

 
CIX
 
"`Tis these that free the small entangled fly, 
Caught in the venom`d spider`s crafty snare;— 
These be the petty surgeons that apply 
The healing balsams to the wounded hare, 
Bedded in bloody fern, no creature`s care!— 
These be providers for the orphan brood, 
Whose tender mother hath been slain in air, 
Quitting with gaping bill her darling`s food, 
Hard by the verge of her domestic wood."

 
CX
 
"`Tis these befriend the timid trembling stag, 
When, with a bursting heart beset with fears, 
He feels his saving speed begin to flag; 
For then they quench the fatal taint with tears, 
And prompt fresh shifts in his alarum`d ears, 
So piteously they view all bloody morts; 
Or if the gunner, with his arms, appears, 
Like noisy pyes and jays, with harsh reports, 
They warn the wild fowl of his deadly sports."


CXI
 
"For these are kindly ministers of nature, 
To soothe all covert hurts and dumb distress; 
Pretty they be, and very small of stature,— 
For mercy still consorts with littleness;— 
Wherefore the sum of good is still the less, 
And mischief grossest in this world of wrong;— 
So do these charitable dwarfs redress 
The tenfold ravages of giants strong, 
To whom great malice and great might belong."

 
CXII
 
"Likewise to them are Poets much beholden 
For secret favors in the midnight glooms; 
Brave Spenser quaff`d out of their goblets golden, 
And saw their tables spread of prompt mushrooms, 
And heard their horns of honeysuckle blooms 
Sounding upon the air most soothing soft, 
Like humming bees busy about the brooms,— 
And glanced this fair queen`s witchery full oft, 
And in her magic wain soar`d far aloft."

 
CXIII

"Nay I myself, though mortal, once was nursed 
By fairy gossips, friendly at my birth, 
And in my childish ear glib Mab rehearsed 
Her breezy travels round our planet`s girth, 
Telling me wonders of the moon and earth; 
My gramarye at her grave lap I conn`d, 
Where Puck hath been convened to make me mirth; 
I have had from Queen Titania tokens fond, 
And toy`d with Oberon`s permitted wand."

 
CXIV
 
"With figs and plums and Persian dates they fed me, 
And delicate cates after my sunset meal, 
And took me by my childish hand, and led me 
By craggy rocks crested with keeps of steel, 
Whose awful bases deep dark woods conceal, 
Staining some dead lake with their verdant dyes. 
And when the West sparkled at Phoebus` wheel, 
With fairy euphrasy they purged mine eyes, 
To let me see their cities in the skies."

 
CXV
 
"`Twas they first school`d my young imagination 
To take its flights like any new-fledged bird, 
And show`d the span of winged meditation 
Stretch`d wider than things grossly seen or heard. 
With sweet swift Ariel how I soar`d and stirr`d 
The fragrant blooms of spiritual bow`rs! 
`Twas they endear`d what I have still preferr`d, 
Nature`s blest attributes and balmy pow`rs, 
Her hills and vales and brooks, sweet birds and flow`rs." 


CXVI
 
"Wherefore with all true loyalty and duty 
Will I regard them in my honoring rhyme, 
With love for love, and homages to beauty, 
And magic thoughts gather`d in night`s cool clime, 
With studious verse trancing the dragon Time, 
Strong as old Merlin`s necromantic spells; 
So these dear monarchs of the summer`s prime 
Shall live unstartled by his dreadful yells, 
Till shrill larks warn them to their flowery cells."

 
CXVII
 
Look how a poison`d man turns livid black, 
Drugg`d with a cup of deadly hellebore, 
That sets his horrid features all at rack,— 
So seem`d these words into the ear to pour 
Of ghastly Saturn, answering with a roar 
Of mortal pain and spite and utmost rage, 
Wherewith his grisly arm he raised once more, 
And bade the cluster`d sinews all engage, 
As if at one fell stroke to wreck an age.

 
CXVIII
 
Whereas the blade flash`d on the dinted ground, 
Down through his steadfast foe, yet made no scar 
On that immortal Shade, or death-like wound; 
But Time was long benumb`d, and stood ajar, 
And then with baffled rage took flight afar, 
To weep his hurt in some Cimmerian gloom, 
Or meaner fames (like mine) to mock and mar, 
Or sharp his scythe for royal strokes of doom, 
Whetting its edge on some old Cæsar`s tomb.

 
CXIX
 
Howbeit he vanish`d in the forest shade, 
Distantly heard as if some grumbling pard, 
And, like Nymph Echo, to a sound decay`d;— 
Meanwhile the fays cluster`d the gracious Bard, 
The darling centre of their dear regard: 
Besides of sundry dances on the green, 
Never was mortal man so brightly starr`d, 
Or won such pretty homages, I ween. 
"Nod to him, Elves!" cries the melodious queen.

 
CXX
 
"Nod to him, Elves, and flutter round about him, 
And quite enclose him with your pretty crowd, 
And touch him lovingly, for that, without him, 
The silkworm now had spun our dreary shroud;— 
But he hath all dispersed Death`s tearful cloud, 
And Time`s dread effigy scared quite away: 
Bow to him then, as though to me ye bow`d, 
And his dear wishes prosper and obey 
Wherever love and wit can find a way!"

 
CXXI
 
"`Noint him with fairy dews of magic savors, 
Shaken from orient buds still pearly wet, 
Roses and spicy pinks,—and, of all favors, 
Plant in his walks the purple violet, 
And meadow-sweet under the hedges set, 
To mingle breaths with dainty eglantine 
And honeysuckles sweet,—nor yet forget 
Some pastoral flowery chaplets to entwine, 
To vie the thoughts about his brow benign!" 


CXXII
 
"Let no wild things astonish him or fear him, 
But tell them all how mild he is of heart, 
Till e`en the timid hares go frankly near him, 
And eke the dappled does, yet never start; 
Nor shall their fawns into the thickets dart, 
Nor wrens forsake their nests among the leaves, 
Nor speckled thrushes flutter far apart;— 
But bid the sacred swallow haunt his eaves, 
To guard his roof from lightning and from thieves."

 
CXXIII
 
"Or when he goes the nimble squirrel`s visitor, 
Let the brown hermit bring his hoarded nuts, 
For, tell him, this is Nature`s kind Inquisitor,— 
Though man keeps cautious doors that conscience shuts, 
For conscious wrong all curious quest rebuts,— 
Nor yet shall bees uncase their jealous stings, 
However he may watch their straw-built huts;— 
So let him learn the crafts of all small things, 
Which he will hint most aptly when he sings."

 
CXXIV
 
Here she leaves off, and with a graceful hand 
Waves thrice three splendid circles round his head; 
Which, though deserted by the radiant wand, 
Wears still the glory which her waving shed, 
Such as erst crown`d the old Apostle`s head, 
To show the thoughts there harbor`d were divine, 
And on immortal contemplations fed:— 
Goodly it was to see that glory shine 
Around a brow so lofty and benign!— 


CXXV
 
Goodly it was to see the elfin brood 
Contend for kisses of his gentle hand, 
That had their mortal enemy withstood, 
And stay`d their lives, fast ebbing with the sand. 
Long while this strife engaged the pretty band; 
But now bold Chanticleer, from farm to farm, 
Challenged the dawn creeping o`er eastern land, 
And well the fairies knew that shrill alarm, 
Which sounds the knell of every elfish charm.

 
CXXVI
 
And soon the rolling mist, that `gan arise 
From plashy mead and undiscover`d stream, 
Earth`s morning incense to the early skies, 
Crept o`er the failing landscape of my dream. 
Soon faded then the Phantom of my theme— 
A shapeless shade, that fancy disavowed, 
And shrank to nothing in the mist extreme, 
Then flew Titania,—and her little crowd, 
Like flocking linnets, vanished in a cloud.
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