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The Birtwhistles of Craven and Galloway
Appendix 4 European Magazine June 1820 Vol. 77 p.536 ST. VALENTINE’S EVE, OR THE FIRE-SIDE FAIRIES “I DRINK the dew from the cup of the flow’r, I sport in the sunbeam that follows the show’r; My soft couch is purple with violets spread, A harebell the canopy over my head. When sweet-breathing zephyr awakens our spring, I ride over garlands and fields on the wing: At noon, ere the tulip or sunflower blows, My shelter I seek in the breast of the rose. This eve when curfew-bells have rung, And sober shadows round are flung, While the humming-beetle flies, And its wing the owlet tries, Hush!- I haunt the whispering grove, Hearing tales of mortal love, There I find the crafty youth (Well we know with how much truth!) Telling Dorcas how her eyes Vies with stars of summer skies, That she’s fair as yonder moon, That she breathes like flowers in June- O what pity men deceive!- O how mortal maids believe! So sang the best of Fairy-race, Then on a Moth’s back took her place, That all in down and gold array’d About the table-taper play’d But in the chimney’s highest nook, Hid in the cobweb of a book, The Fire-side Fairy sat and smil’d To see the frolic moth debuil’d; Then blithely answered – “Every year On this sweet eve I frolick’d here, Bringing a gift; but not like thine, Full of strange vows and wit malign. For I with ancient couples rest, That years have join’d, and sill are blest, I have no sport in lovers’ freaks ,			For such a merry goblin seeks; But I have found a sweet fire-side, Jocund and warm, where I might hide My head among green tufts, and hear Tales that might fairy revels cheer; And rhymes of mariners, and spells Of witches wild and Christobelles. And there was one that in sweet mirth Was call’d Titania- None on earth So well could act our queen, for she Had charter of kind sovereignty, And lov’d our wiles and jests and sports And revels in our grass-green courts And antic holidays, and all We fairies love in bower and hall. The she had sisters three, that bore Names such as fairies had of yore; I laugh’d to hear them, and in spring, Whene’er those sisters walk’d, my wing Wasted the blossom’d peas’ sweet breathings, And swept the cobweb from its wreathings: But chiefly on this eve I came To watch their hearth and candle’s flame In likeness of a moth, while he Who ruled their home, with gamesome glee Lit up rich hour’s revelry; While giant Science stooped to strew Light flowers and gem; as Phidias threw, While on the form of Jove he toiled, His shreds of gold around, and smil’d. To-night I come- but there is none On that glad hearth; - the day is done! Yet we will love it still, and ever (When all the lovers’ bonds shall sever Tied on this day) we yet will greet, Holy fresh, the Fireside seat, And deck the hearth, till they who sigh For one they lov’d , shall wonder why So soon in grief becomes a joy; A sweet and tender joy, that stays Mix’d with the dearest dreams of other days.” * * * * * The Fireside Fairies ceas’d – together Upon the light down of a feather Pluck’d from the red-breat’s wing they rode, And vanish’d far from sleeping man’s above. V
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