Down along the rocky shore

Some make their home, They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide-foam;

Some in the reeds

Of the black mountain lake, With frogs for their watch-dogs, All night awake.

High on the hill-top

The old King sits;

He is now so old and gray
He's nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist
Columbkill he crosses,

On his stately journeys

From Slieveleague to Rosses;

Or going up with music

On cold starry nights

To sup with the Queen

Of the gay Northern Lights.

They stole little Bridget
For seven years long;
When she came down again

Her friends were all gone.

They took her lightly back,

Between the night and morrow,

They thought that she was fast asleep,
But she was dead with sorrow.

They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lake,
On a bed of flag-leaves,
Watching till she wake.

By the craggy hill-side,
Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn-trees
For pleasure here and there.

The Fairy Thrall

If any man so daring

As dig them up in spite,

He shall find their sharpest thorns
In his bed at night.

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,

Trooping all together;

Green jacket, red cap,

And white owl's feather!

243

William Allingham [1824-1889]

THE FAIRY THRALL

ON gossamer nights when the moon is low,
And stars in the mist are hiding,
Over the hill where the foxgloves grow

You may see the fairies riding.

Kling! Klang! Kling!

Their stirrups and their bridles ring,

And their horns are loud and their bugles blow,
When the moon is low.

They sweep through the night like a whistling wind, They pass and have left no traces;

But one of them lingers far behind

The flight of the fairy faces.

She makes no moan,

She sorrows in the dark alone,

She wails for the love of human kind,

Like a whistling wind.

"Ah! why did I roam where the elfins ride,
Their glimmering steps to follow?
They bore me far from my loved one's side,
To wander o'er hill and hollow.

Kling! Klang! Kling!

Their stirrups and their bridles ring, But my heart is cold in the cold night-tide,

Where the elfins ride."

Mary C. G. Byron [1861

FAREWELL TO THE FAIRIES

FAREWELL, rewards and fairies!

Good housewives now may say,

For now foul sluts in dairies

Do fare as well as they.

And though they sweep their hearths no less Than maids were wont to do,

Yet who of late, for cleanliness,

Finds sixpence in her shoe?

Lament, lament, old abbeys,

The fairies' lost command!
They did but change priests' babies,
But some have changed your land;
And all your children sprung from thence,
Are now grown Puritanes;
Who live as changelings ever since,

For love of your demains.

At morning and at evening both
You merry were and glad;
So little care of sleep or sloth

These pretty ladies had;

When Tom came home from labor,

Or Ciss to milking rose,

Then merrily merrily went their tabor
And nimbly went their toes.

Witness those rings and roundelays
Of theirs, which yet remain,
Were footed in Queen Mary's days
On many a grassy plain;

A tell-tale in their company
They never could endure;
And whoso kept not secretly
Their mirth, was punished sure;
It was a just and Christian deed
To pinch such black and blue:
Oh, how the Commonwealth doth need
Such justices as you!

245

Richard Corbet [1582-1635]

THE FAIRY FOLK

COME cuddle close in daddy's coat

Beside the fire so bright, And hear about the fairy folk

That wander in the night.

For when the stars are shining clear

And all the world is still,

They float across the silver moon

From hill to cloudy hill.

Their caps of red, their cloaks of green,

Are hung with silver bells,

And when they're shaken with the wind

Their merry ringing swells.

And riding on the crimson moth,

With black spots on her wings,

They guide them down the purple sky

With golden bridle rings.

They love to visit girls and boys
To see how sweet they sleep,
To stand beside their cosy cots
And at their faces peep.
For in the whole of fairy-land
They have no finer sight
Than little children sleeping sound
With faces rosy bright.

On tip-toe crowding round their heads,
When bright the moonlight beams,
They whisper little tender words
That fill their minds with dreams;
And when they see a sunny smile,
With lightest finger tips
They lay a hundred kisses sweet
Upon the ruddy lips.

And then the little spotted moths

Spread out their crimson wings,
And bear away the fairy crowd
With shaking bridle rings.
Come, bairnies, hide in daddy's coat,
Beside the fire so bright—

Perhaps the little fairy folk

Will visit you to-night.

Robert Bird (1867

THE FAIRY BOOK

WHEN Mother takes the Fairy Book
And we curl up to hear,
'Tis "All aboard for Fairyland!"

Which seems to be so near.

For soon we reach the pleasant place
Of Once Upon a Time,

Where birdies sing the hour of day,
And flowers talk in rhyme;

Where Bobby is a velvet Prince,
And where I am a Queen;