She rode o'er hill, she rode o'er plain,She rode by fields of barley,By morning-glories filled with rain,And beechen branches gnarly.She rode o'er plain, she rode o'er hill,By orchard land and berry;Her face was buoyant as the rill,Her eyes and heart were merry,A bird sang here, a bird sang there,Then blithely sang together,Sang sudden greetings every where,"Good-morrow!" and "good weather!"The sunlight's laughing radianceLaughed in her radiant tresses;The bold breeze set her curls a-dance,Made red her lips with kisses."Why ride ye here, why ride ye there,Why ride ye here so merry?The sunlight living in your hair,And in your cheek the cherry?"Why ride ye with your sea-green plumes,Your sea-green silken habit,By balmy bosks of faint perfumesWhere squats the cunning rabbit?""The morning's feet are wrought of gold,The hunter's horn is jolly;Sir Richard bold was rich and old,Was old and melancholy."A wife they'd have me to his bed,And to the kirk they hurried;But now, gramercy! he is dead,Perdie! is dead and buried."I ride by tree, I ride by rill,I ride by rye and clover,For by the kirk beyond the hillAwaits a better lover."
She rode o'er hill, she rode o'er plain,She rode by fields of barley,By morning-glories filled with rain,And beechen branches gnarly.
She rode o'er plain, she rode o'er hill,By orchard land and berry;Her face was buoyant as the rill,Her eyes and heart were merry,
A bird sang here, a bird sang there,Then blithely sang together,Sang sudden greetings every where,"Good-morrow!" and "good weather!"
The sunlight's laughing radianceLaughed in her radiant tresses;The bold breeze set her curls a-dance,Made red her lips with kisses.
"Why ride ye here, why ride ye there,Why ride ye here so merry?The sunlight living in your hair,And in your cheek the cherry?
"Why ride ye with your sea-green plumes,Your sea-green silken habit,By balmy bosks of faint perfumesWhere squats the cunning rabbit?"
"The morning's feet are wrought of gold,The hunter's horn is jolly;Sir Richard bold was rich and old,Was old and melancholy.
"A wife they'd have me to his bed,And to the kirk they hurried;But now, gramercy! he is dead,Perdie! is dead and buried.
"I ride by tree, I ride by rill,I ride by rye and clover,For by the kirk beyond the hillAwaits a better lover."
She sleeps and dreams; one milk-white, lawny armPillowing her heavy hair, as might cold NightMeeting her sister Day, with glory warm,Subside in languor on her bosom's white.The naked other on the damask cloth,—White, smooth, and light as the light thistle-down,Or the pink, fairy, fluffy evening mothOn June-drunk beds of roses red,—lies thrown.And one sweet cheek, kissed with the enamored moon,Grown pale with anger at the liberty.While, dusk in darkness, at the favor shownThe pouting other frowns still envity.Hangs fall'n in folds the rich, dark covering,With fretfulness thrust partly from her breast;As through storm-broken clouds the moon might spring,From this the orb of one pure bosom prest.She sleeps; and where the silent moonbeams sinkThro' diamond panes,—soft as a ghost of snow,—In wide, white jets, the lion-fur seems to drinkWith tawny jaws its wasted, winey glow.Light-lidded sleep and holy dreams to her,Unborn of feverish sorrow or of care,Soft as the gust that makes the arras stir,Tangling gold moonbeams in her fragrant hair.
She sleeps and dreams; one milk-white, lawny armPillowing her heavy hair, as might cold NightMeeting her sister Day, with glory warm,Subside in languor on her bosom's white.
The naked other on the damask cloth,—White, smooth, and light as the light thistle-down,Or the pink, fairy, fluffy evening mothOn June-drunk beds of roses red,—lies thrown.
And one sweet cheek, kissed with the enamored moon,Grown pale with anger at the liberty.While, dusk in darkness, at the favor shownThe pouting other frowns still envity.
Hangs fall'n in folds the rich, dark covering,With fretfulness thrust partly from her breast;As through storm-broken clouds the moon might spring,From this the orb of one pure bosom prest.
She sleeps; and where the silent moonbeams sinkThro' diamond panes,—soft as a ghost of snow,—In wide, white jets, the lion-fur seems to drinkWith tawny jaws its wasted, winey glow.
Light-lidded sleep and holy dreams to her,Unborn of feverish sorrow or of care,Soft as the gust that makes the arras stir,Tangling gold moonbeams in her fragrant hair.
I.There be Fairies bright of eye,Who the wild-flowers warders are;There be Fairies subtlelyNourished in a blossom's star;Fairies tripping merrilySinging in faint echoes far,Singing fairy melodiesMurmured by the burly bees,By the wild brown bees.II.Well I wot that Fairies be there,—Fairies, Fairies that at eveLurking in a blossom-lair,In some rose-bud's scented hairFrom white beams of starlight weaveGlinting gown and shining shoe.I have proven sure and trueFairies be there, fays of dew,Lying laughing in its sparkFloating in a rose's sark;Singing fairy melodies,When asleep the dusty beesCan not steal their melodies,Fairy melodies.
I.
There be Fairies bright of eye,Who the wild-flowers warders are;There be Fairies subtlelyNourished in a blossom's star;Fairies tripping merrilySinging in faint echoes far,Singing fairy melodiesMurmured by the burly bees,By the wild brown bees.
II.
Well I wot that Fairies be there,—Fairies, Fairies that at eveLurking in a blossom-lair,In some rose-bud's scented hairFrom white beams of starlight weaveGlinting gown and shining shoe.I have proven sure and trueFairies be there, fays of dew,Lying laughing in its sparkFloating in a rose's sark;Singing fairy melodies,When asleep the dusty beesCan not steal their melodies,Fairy melodies.
I.Where thronged poppies with globed shieldsOf fierce redWarrior all the harvest fieldsIs my bed.Here I tumble with the bee,Robber bee of low degreeGay with dust:Wit ye of a bracelet boldBroadly belting him with gold?It was I who bound it onWhen a-gambol on the lawn—It can never rust.II.Where the glow-worm lights his lampThere am I;Where within the grasses dampCrickets cry.Cheer'ly, cheer'ly in the burneWhere the lins the torrents churnInto foam,Leap I on a whisp of broom,—Cheer'ly, cheer'ly through the gloom,—All aneath a round-cheeked moon,Treading on her silver shoonLightly o'er the gloam,III.Or the cowslip on the bentLift her head,Or the glow-worm's lamp be spent,Whitely dead:'Neath lank ferns I laughing lie,'Neath the ferns full warilyHid away,Where the drowsy musk-rose blowsAnd a fussy runnel flows,Sleeping with the FaëryUnder leafy canopyAll the holyday.
I.
Where thronged poppies with globed shieldsOf fierce redWarrior all the harvest fieldsIs my bed.Here I tumble with the bee,Robber bee of low degreeGay with dust:Wit ye of a bracelet boldBroadly belting him with gold?It was I who bound it onWhen a-gambol on the lawn—It can never rust.
II.
Where the glow-worm lights his lampThere am I;Where within the grasses dampCrickets cry.Cheer'ly, cheer'ly in the burneWhere the lins the torrents churnInto foam,Leap I on a whisp of broom,—Cheer'ly, cheer'ly through the gloom,—All aneath a round-cheeked moon,Treading on her silver shoonLightly o'er the gloam,
III.
Or the cowslip on the bentLift her head,Or the glow-worm's lamp be spent,Whitely dead:'Neath lank ferns I laughing lie,'Neath the ferns full warilyHid away,Where the drowsy musk-rose blowsAnd a fussy runnel flows,Sleeping with the FaëryUnder leafy canopyAll the holyday.
Vague, vague 'neath darkling waves,With emerald-curving cavesFor the arched skies,Red-walled with dark dull goldThe Nixes' city oldDeep-glimmering lies.And thro' the long green nights the spangling sparsTwinkle like milky stars.Where the wind-ripple playsOn tufts of dipping spraysSparkling we rock;With blooming fingers bareComb down our golden hairIn many a lock;While, poured o'er naked ease of cool, moist limbs,An amber glamour swims.Or in the middle nightWhen cold damp fire-flies lightPale flitting brandsDown all the woodland aisles,With swift mysterious smilesLink we white hands,And where the moonlight haunts the drowsy lakeBask in its silver wake.Come join, come join our danceWhile the warm starbeams glance,And the kind moonSpills all her flowers of lightAt the dark feet of Night,And soon, full soon,Thou'lt sleep in shadowy halls where dim and coldOur city's walled with gold.
Vague, vague 'neath darkling waves,With emerald-curving cavesFor the arched skies,Red-walled with dark dull goldThe Nixes' city oldDeep-glimmering lies.And thro' the long green nights the spangling sparsTwinkle like milky stars.
Where the wind-ripple playsOn tufts of dipping spraysSparkling we rock;With blooming fingers bareComb down our golden hairIn many a lock;While, poured o'er naked ease of cool, moist limbs,An amber glamour swims.
Or in the middle nightWhen cold damp fire-flies lightPale flitting brandsDown all the woodland aisles,With swift mysterious smilesLink we white hands,And where the moonlight haunts the drowsy lakeBask in its silver wake.
Come join, come join our danceWhile the warm starbeams glance,And the kind moonSpills all her flowers of lightAt the dark feet of Night,And soon, full soon,Thou'lt sleep in shadowy halls where dim and coldOur city's walled with gold.
I.Ai me! why stood I on the bentWhen Summer wept o'er dying June!I saw the Fairy Folk ride faintAneath the moon.II.The haw-trees hedged the russet leaWhere cuckoo-buds waxed rich with gold;The wealthy corn rose yellowlyEndlong the wold.III.Betwixt the haw-trees and the mead"The Fairy Rade" came glimmering on;A creamy cavalcade did speedO'er the green lawn.IV.The night was ringing with their reins;Loud laughed they till the cricket hushed;The whistles on their coursers' manesShrill music gushed.V.The whistles tagged their horses' manesAll crystal clear; on these a windForever played, and waked the plainsBefore, behind.VI.These flute-notes and the Fairy songTook the dim holts with many a qualm,And eke their silver bridles rungA far-off psalm.VII.All rid upon pale ouphen steedsWith flying tails, uncouthly seen;Each wore a scarf athwart his weedsOf freshest green.VIII.And aye a beam of silver lightFairer than moonshine danced aboon,And shook their locks—a glimmering whiteNot of the moon.IX.Small were they that the hare-bell's blueHad helmeted each tiny head;Save one damsel, who, tall as two,The Faeries led.X.Long tresses floated from a tireOf diamond sparks, which cast a light,And o'er her white sark shook, in fireRippling the night.XI.I would have thrown me 'neath her feet,And told her all my dole and pain,There while her rein was jingling sweetO'er all the plain.XII.Alas! a black and thwarting cockCrew from the thatch with long-necked cry—The Elfin queen and her wee flockIn the night did die.
I.
Ai me! why stood I on the bentWhen Summer wept o'er dying June!I saw the Fairy Folk ride faintAneath the moon.
II.
The haw-trees hedged the russet leaWhere cuckoo-buds waxed rich with gold;The wealthy corn rose yellowlyEndlong the wold.
III.
Betwixt the haw-trees and the mead"The Fairy Rade" came glimmering on;A creamy cavalcade did speedO'er the green lawn.
IV.
The night was ringing with their reins;Loud laughed they till the cricket hushed;The whistles on their coursers' manesShrill music gushed.
V.
The whistles tagged their horses' manesAll crystal clear; on these a windForever played, and waked the plainsBefore, behind.
VI.
These flute-notes and the Fairy songTook the dim holts with many a qualm,And eke their silver bridles rungA far-off psalm.
VII.
All rid upon pale ouphen steedsWith flying tails, uncouthly seen;Each wore a scarf athwart his weedsOf freshest green.
VIII.
And aye a beam of silver lightFairer than moonshine danced aboon,And shook their locks—a glimmering whiteNot of the moon.
IX.
Small were they that the hare-bell's blueHad helmeted each tiny head;Save one damsel, who, tall as two,The Faeries led.
X.
Long tresses floated from a tireOf diamond sparks, which cast a light,And o'er her white sark shook, in fireRippling the night.
XI.
I would have thrown me 'neath her feet,And told her all my dole and pain,There while her rein was jingling sweetO'er all the plain.
XII.
Alas! a black and thwarting cockCrew from the thatch with long-necked cry—The Elfin queen and her wee flockIn the night did die.
The Autumn pines and fadesUpon the withered trees;And over there, a choked despair,You hear the moaning breeze.The violets are dead;Dead the tall hollyhocks,That hang like rags on the wind-crushed flags,And the lilies' livid stocks.The wild gourd clambers freeWhere the clematis was wont;Where nenuphars waxed thick as starsRank weeds stagnate the font.Yet in my dreams I hearA tinkling mandolin;In the dark blue light of a fragrant nightFloat in and out and in.And the dewy vine that climbsTo my lady's lattice sways,And behind the vine there come to shineTwo pleasant eyes and gaze.And now a perfume comes,A swift Favonian gust;And the shrinking grass where it doth passBows slave-like to the dust.In dreams I see her driftA mist of drapery;In her jeweled shawl divinely tall,A Dian deity.The moon broods high and fullO'er the broken Psyche cold,And there she stands her dainty handsAnd thin wrists warm with gold.But lovers now are dead,The air is stung with frosts;And naught may you find save the homeless wind,Dead violets' ghosts and ghosts.
The Autumn pines and fadesUpon the withered trees;And over there, a choked despair,You hear the moaning breeze.
The violets are dead;Dead the tall hollyhocks,That hang like rags on the wind-crushed flags,And the lilies' livid stocks.
The wild gourd clambers freeWhere the clematis was wont;Where nenuphars waxed thick as starsRank weeds stagnate the font.
Yet in my dreams I hearA tinkling mandolin;In the dark blue light of a fragrant nightFloat in and out and in.
And the dewy vine that climbsTo my lady's lattice sways,And behind the vine there come to shineTwo pleasant eyes and gaze.
And now a perfume comes,A swift Favonian gust;And the shrinking grass where it doth passBows slave-like to the dust.
In dreams I see her driftA mist of drapery;In her jeweled shawl divinely tall,A Dian deity.
The moon broods high and fullO'er the broken Psyche cold,And there she stands her dainty handsAnd thin wrists warm with gold.
But lovers now are dead,The air is stung with frosts;And naught may you find save the homeless wind,Dead violets' ghosts and ghosts.