University of Virginia Library

Will of the Wisp.

Gay, glitt'ring phantom of the night,
Delusive, mischief-loving sprite,
That danceth in the weary way,
Of nighted trav'ller led astray;
And by thy wand'rings doth mislead,
The assignation-giving maid!
Sometimes thou'rt seen to glimmer near
The ruins of an abbey drear;
Full visible to frighted eye,
Of trembling peasant stalking by;
Who scared, affrighted, homeward hies,
With looks aghast, and staring eyes!
The group around the evening fire,
The cause of look aghast enquire,
Nor with additions does he fail
To tell the dire, terrific tale!
How “passing abbey walls alone,
He heard a loud sepulchral groan,
And casting up a tim'rous eye,
On mould'ring cloister, did espy
A fiery phantom without head,”
He swears it “as his name is Ned!”
“Christ save us,” cries each pious dame,
Each pious wight repeats the same!
But ne'er in me, thou wandering fire,
Did'st thou a timid fear inspire;
Thy fugitive and vivid ray
Oft cheers, but ne'er misleads my way:
And well I love to see thy vapour,
In my lone path frisk and caper,
To view opposed thy glimmering light.
To the first folding star of night!
Now dancing over marsh and stream
Now shedding on each bush thy beam,
Now o'er the sloping hillock gliding,
And now behind the hawthorn hiding:
While every fairy elf and sprite,
Enjoys thy visionary light;
The blossoms leave where all the day,
From prying Sol they perdue lay;
And with the laughing, sportive hours,
Creep from beneath their shelt'ring flowers;
And by thy tiny beam of light,
Full gaily trip it all the night;
Following thee o'er brake and briar,
Moorland, heath, and pool, and mire;
With frolic sport and jocund glee,
Dancing I ween right merrily!
First the subaltern, dwarfish tribe,
With many a fairy jest and gibe,
Lead gaily on the revel troop,
Followed by a courtly group;
(For e'en these little fairy elves,
Look to precedence like ourselves!)
The lord high chancellor comes then,
Well known by name to mortal men,
As Robin Goodfellow,—a wight
Of cunning parts and genius bright!
Then Puck, the Momus of the court,
Who deals in wholesale mirth and sport!
And last, light tripping it are seen,
Great Oberon, and Mab his queen,
Surrounded by a courtly crew,
That scarce brush off the morning dew
From the unbending flow'ret sweet,
That seldom shrinks beneath their feet;
And as the sportive group advances,
The merry Will before them dances:
Till at the dawn of waking day,
They to their coverts steal away;
In buds and opening germs creep,
And dream their gambols o'er in sleep:
While the first beam of orient light,
Detects the vapours of the night,
And beadle-like binds them in chains,
From mountains tops and marshy plains:
Poor Will a pris'ner too is sent,
All day in “sad endurance pent!”
Till Sol resigns his mighty reign,
Then hies he to his rounds again!