Chapter 17

126

COME UNTO THESE YELLOW SANDS(Ariel singing)Come unto these yellow sands,And then take hands:Curtsied when you have, and kist,The wilde waves whist:Foote it featly heere, and there,And sweete Sprights the burthen beare.Harke, harke,bowgh wawgh:The watch-dogges barke,bowgh wawgh.Hark, hark, I heare,The straine of strutting ChanticlereCryCockadidle-dowe.William Shakespeare

(Ariel singing)Come unto these yellow sands,And then take hands:Curtsied when you have, and kist,The wilde waves whist:Foote it featly heere, and there,And sweete Sprights the burthen beare.Harke, harke,bowgh wawgh:The watch-dogges barke,bowgh wawgh.Hark, hark, I heare,The straine of strutting ChanticlereCryCockadidle-dowe.William Shakespeare

(Ariel singing)Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:

Curtsied when you have, and kist,

The wilde waves whist:

Foote it featly heere, and there,

And sweete Sprights the burthen beare.

Harke, harke,bowgh wawgh:

The watch-dogges barke,bowgh wawgh.

Hark, hark, I heare,

The straine of strutting Chanticlere

CryCockadidle-dowe.

William Shakespeare

127

THE ELVES' DANCERound about, round aboutIn a fair ring-a,Thus we dance, thus we danceAnd thus we sing-a,Trip and go, to and froOver this green-a,All about, in and out,For our brave Queen-a.

Round about, round aboutIn a fair ring-a,Thus we dance, thus we danceAnd thus we sing-a,Trip and go, to and froOver this green-a,All about, in and out,For our brave Queen-a.

Round about, round about

In a fair ring-a,

Thus we dance, thus we dance

And thus we sing-a,

Trip and go, to and fro

Over this green-a,

All about, in and out,

For our brave Queen-a.

128

BY THE MOONBy the Moone we sport and play,With the night begins our day:As we daunce the deaw doth fall,Trip it little urchins all:Lightly as the little Bee,Two by two, and three by three:And about go we, and about go wee."I do come about the coppes,Leaping upon flowers toppes:Then I get upon a flie,Shee carries me above the skie:And trip and goe.""When a deawe drop falleth downe,And doth light upon my crowne,Then I shake my head and skip,And about I trip.Two by two, and three by three:And about go we, and about go wee."Thomas Ravenscroft

By the Moone we sport and play,With the night begins our day:As we daunce the deaw doth fall,Trip it little urchins all:Lightly as the little Bee,Two by two, and three by three:And about go we, and about go wee."I do come about the coppes,Leaping upon flowers toppes:Then I get upon a flie,Shee carries me above the skie:And trip and goe.""When a deawe drop falleth downe,And doth light upon my crowne,Then I shake my head and skip,And about I trip.Two by two, and three by three:And about go we, and about go wee."Thomas Ravenscroft

By the Moone we sport and play,

With the night begins our day:

As we daunce the deaw doth fall,

Trip it little urchins all:

Lightly as the little Bee,

Two by two, and three by three:

And about go we, and about go wee.

"I do come about the coppes,Leaping upon flowers toppes:Then I get upon a flie,Shee carries me above the skie:And trip and goe."

"I do come about the coppes,

Leaping upon flowers toppes:

Then I get upon a flie,

Shee carries me above the skie:

And trip and goe."

"When a deawe drop falleth downe,And doth light upon my crowne,Then I shake my head and skip,And about I trip.Two by two, and three by three:And about go we, and about go wee."Thomas Ravenscroft

"When a deawe drop falleth downe,

And doth light upon my crowne,

Then I shake my head and skip,

And about I trip.

Two by two, and three by three:

And about go we, and about go wee."

Thomas Ravenscroft

129

FOR A MOCKING VOICEWho calls? Who calls? Who?Did you call? Did you?—I call! I call! I!Follow where I fly.—Where? O where? O where?On Earth or in the Air?—Where you come, I'm gone!Where you fly, I've flown!—Stay! ah, stay! ah, stay,Pretty Elf, and play!Tell me where you are—Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!Eleanor Farjeon

Who calls? Who calls? Who?Did you call? Did you?—I call! I call! I!Follow where I fly.—Where? O where? O where?On Earth or in the Air?—Where you come, I'm gone!Where you fly, I've flown!—Stay! ah, stay! ah, stay,Pretty Elf, and play!Tell me where you are—Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!Eleanor Farjeon

Who calls? Who calls? Who?

Did you call? Did you?—

I call! I call! I!

Follow where I fly.—

Where? O where? O where?

On Earth or in the Air?—

Where you come, I'm gone!

Where you fly, I've flown!—

Stay! ah, stay! ah, stay,

Pretty Elf, and play!

Tell me where you are—

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Eleanor Farjeon

130

WHERE THE BEE SUCKSWhere the Bee sucks, there suck I,In a Cowslip's bell I lie,There I cowch when Owles do crie;On the Batt's back I doe flieAfter Sommer merrily.Merrily, merrily, shall I live nowUnder the blossom that hangs on the Bow.William Shakespeare

Where the Bee sucks, there suck I,In a Cowslip's bell I lie,There I cowch when Owles do crie;On the Batt's back I doe flieAfter Sommer merrily.Merrily, merrily, shall I live nowUnder the blossom that hangs on the Bow.William Shakespeare

Where the Bee sucks, there suck I,

In a Cowslip's bell I lie,

There I cowch when Owles do crie;

On the Batt's back I doe flie

After Sommer merrily.

Merrily, merrily, shall I live now

Under the blossom that hangs on the Bow.

William Shakespeare

131

ECHOHow see you Echo? When she calls I seeHer pale face looking down through some great tree,Whose world of green is like a moving sea,That shells re-echo.I see her with a white face like a mask,That vanishes to come again; damaskHer cheek, but deeply pale,Her eyes are green,With a silver sheen,And she mocks the thing you ask."O Echo!" (hear the children calling) "are you there?"..."Where?"...When the wind blows over the hill,She hides with a vagrant will,And call you may loud, and call you may long,She lays finger on lip when the winds are strong,And for all your pains she is still.But when young plants spring, and the chiff-chaffs sing,And the scarlet capped woodpecker flies through the vale,She is out all day,Through the fragrant May,To babble and tattle her Yea and Nay."O Echo!" (still the children call) "Where are you? where?"..."Air...."Viscountess Grey

How see you Echo? When she calls I seeHer pale face looking down through some great tree,Whose world of green is like a moving sea,That shells re-echo.I see her with a white face like a mask,That vanishes to come again; damaskHer cheek, but deeply pale,Her eyes are green,With a silver sheen,And she mocks the thing you ask."O Echo!" (hear the children calling) "are you there?"..."Where?"...When the wind blows over the hill,She hides with a vagrant will,And call you may loud, and call you may long,She lays finger on lip when the winds are strong,And for all your pains she is still.But when young plants spring, and the chiff-chaffs sing,And the scarlet capped woodpecker flies through the vale,She is out all day,Through the fragrant May,To babble and tattle her Yea and Nay."O Echo!" (still the children call) "Where are you? where?"..."Air...."Viscountess Grey

How see you Echo? When she calls I see

Her pale face looking down through some great tree,

Whose world of green is like a moving sea,

That shells re-echo.

I see her with a white face like a mask,

That vanishes to come again; damask

Her cheek, but deeply pale,

Her eyes are green,

With a silver sheen,

And she mocks the thing you ask.

"O Echo!" (hear the children calling) "are you there?"...

"Where?"...

When the wind blows over the hill,She hides with a vagrant will,And call you may loud, and call you may long,She lays finger on lip when the winds are strong,And for all your pains she is still.But when young plants spring, and the chiff-chaffs sing,And the scarlet capped woodpecker flies through the vale,She is out all day,Through the fragrant May,To babble and tattle her Yea and Nay."O Echo!" (still the children call) "Where are you? where?"..."Air...."Viscountess Grey

When the wind blows over the hill,

She hides with a vagrant will,

And call you may loud, and call you may long,

She lays finger on lip when the winds are strong,

And for all your pains she is still.

But when young plants spring, and the chiff-chaffs sing,

And the scarlet capped woodpecker flies through the vale,

She is out all day,

Through the fragrant May,

To babble and tattle her Yea and Nay.

"O Echo!" (still the children call) "Where are you? where?"...

"Air...."

Viscountess Grey

132

THE SPLENDOUR FALLSThe splendour falls on castle wallsAnd snowy summits old in story:The long light shakes across the lakes,And the wild cataract leaps in glory.Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,And thinner, clearer, farther going!O sweet and far from cliff and scarThe horns of Elfland faintly blowing!Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.O love, they die in yon rich sky,They faint on hill or field or river:Our echoes roll from soul to soul,And grow for ever and for ever.Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The splendour falls on castle wallsAnd snowy summits old in story:The long light shakes across the lakes,And the wild cataract leaps in glory.Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,And thinner, clearer, farther going!O sweet and far from cliff and scarThe horns of Elfland faintly blowing!Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.O love, they die in yon rich sky,They faint on hill or field or river:Our echoes roll from soul to soul,And grow for ever and for ever.Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The splendour falls on castle walls

And snowy summits old in story:

The long light shakes across the lakes,

And the wild cataract leaps in glory.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,

Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,And thinner, clearer, farther going!O sweet and far from cliff and scarThe horns of Elfland faintly blowing!Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,

And thinner, clearer, farther going!

O sweet and far from cliff and scar

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:

Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,They faint on hill or field or river:Our echoes roll from soul to soul,And grow for ever and for ever.Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.Alfred, Lord Tennyson

O love, they die in yon rich sky,

They faint on hill or field or river:

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,

And grow for ever and for ever.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,

And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

133

THE FAIRIESUp the airy mountain,Down the rushy glen,We daren't go a-huntingFor fear of little men;Wee folk, good folk,Trooping all together;Green jacket, red cap,And white owl's feather!Down along the rocky shoreSome make their home,They live on crispy pancakesOf yellow tide-foam;Some in the reedsOf the black mountain-lake,With frogs for their watch-dogs,All night awake.High on the hill-topThe old King sits;He is now so old and grayHe's nigh lost his wits.With a bridge of white mistColumbkill he crosses,On his stately journeysFrom Slieveleague to Rosses;Or going up with musicOn cold starry nights,To sup with the QueenOf the gay Northern Lights.They stole little BridgetFor seven years long;When she came down againHer 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 sinceDeep 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-treesFor pleasure here and there.Is any man so daringAs to dig one up in spite,He shall find the thornies setIn his bed at night.Up the airy mountain,Down the rushy glen,We daren't go a-huntingFor fear of little men;Wee folk, good folk,Trooping all together;Green jacket, red cap,And white owl's feather!William Allingham

Up the airy mountain,Down the rushy glen,We daren't go a-huntingFor fear of little men;Wee folk, good folk,Trooping all together;Green jacket, red cap,And white owl's feather!Down along the rocky shoreSome make their home,They live on crispy pancakesOf yellow tide-foam;Some in the reedsOf the black mountain-lake,With frogs for their watch-dogs,All night awake.High on the hill-topThe old King sits;He is now so old and grayHe's nigh lost his wits.With a bridge of white mistColumbkill he crosses,On his stately journeysFrom Slieveleague to Rosses;Or going up with musicOn cold starry nights,To sup with the QueenOf the gay Northern Lights.They stole little BridgetFor seven years long;When she came down againHer 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 sinceDeep 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-treesFor pleasure here and there.Is any man so daringAs to dig one up in spite,He shall find the thornies setIn his bed at night.Up the airy mountain,Down the rushy glen,We daren't go a-huntingFor fear of little men;Wee folk, good folk,Trooping all together;Green jacket, red cap,And white owl's feather!William Allingham

Up the airy mountain,Down the rushy glen,We daren't go a-huntingFor fear of little men;Wee folk, good folk,Trooping all together;Green jacket, red cap,And white owl's feather!

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!

Down along the rocky shoreSome make their home,They live on crispy pancakesOf yellow tide-foam;Some in the reedsOf the black mountain-lake,With frogs for their watch-dogs,All night awake.

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-topThe old King sits;He is now so old and grayHe's nigh lost his wits.With a bridge of white mistColumbkill he crosses,On his stately journeysFrom Slieveleague to Rosses;Or going up with musicOn cold starry nights,To sup with the QueenOf the gay Northern Lights.

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 BridgetFor seven years long;When she came down againHer 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 sinceDeep within the lake,On a bed of flag-leaves,Watching till she wake.

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-treesFor pleasure here and there.Is any man so daringAs to dig one up in spite,He shall find the thornies setIn his bed at night.

By the craggy hill-side,

Through the mosses bare,

They have planted thorn-trees

For pleasure here and there.

Is any man so daring

As to dig one up in spite,

He shall find the thornies set

In his bed at night.

Up the airy mountain,Down the rushy glen,We daren't go a-huntingFor fear of little men;Wee folk, good folk,Trooping all together;Green jacket, red cap,And white owl's feather!William Allingham

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!

William Allingham

134

OVERHEARD ON A SALTMARSHNymph, nymph, what are your beads?Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?Give them me.No.Give them me. Give them me.No.Then I will howl all night in the reeds,Lie in the mud and howl for them.Goblin, why do you love them so?They are better than stars or water,Better than voices of winds that sing,Better than any man's fair daughter,Your green glass beads on a silver ring.Hush, I stole them out of the moon.Give me your beads, I want them.No.I will howl in a deep lagoonFor your green glass beads, I love them so.Give them me. Give them.No.Harold Monro

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?Give them me.No.Give them me. Give them me.No.Then I will howl all night in the reeds,Lie in the mud and howl for them.Goblin, why do you love them so?They are better than stars or water,Better than voices of winds that sing,Better than any man's fair daughter,Your green glass beads on a silver ring.Hush, I stole them out of the moon.Give me your beads, I want them.No.I will howl in a deep lagoonFor your green glass beads, I love them so.Give them me. Give them.No.Harold Monro

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?

Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?

Give them me.

No.

Give them me. Give them me.

No.

Then I will howl all night in the reeds,Lie in the mud and howl for them.

Then I will howl all night in the reeds,

Lie in the mud and howl for them.

Goblin, why do you love them so?

They are better than stars or water,Better than voices of winds that sing,Better than any man's fair daughter,Your green glass beads on a silver ring.

They are better than stars or water,

Better than voices of winds that sing,

Better than any man's fair daughter,

Your green glass beads on a silver ring.

Hush, I stole them out of the moon.

Give me your beads, I want them.

No.

I will howl in a deep lagoonFor your green glass beads, I love them so.Give them me. Give them.

I will howl in a deep lagoon

For your green glass beads, I love them so.

Give them me. Give them.

No.Harold Monro

No.

Harold Monro

135

THE FAIRY THORN"Get up, our Anna dear, from the weary spinning wheel;For your father's on the hill, and your mother is asleep:Come up above the crags, and we'll dance a highland reelAround the fairy thorn on the steep."At Anna Grace's door 'twas thus the maidens cried,Three merry maidens fair in kirtles of the green;And Anna laid the rock[74]and the weary wheel aside,The fairest of the four, I ween.They're glancing through the glimmer of the quiet eve,Away in milky wavings of neck and ankle bare;The heavy-sliding stream in its sleep song they leave,And the crags in the ghostly air.And linking hand and hand, and singing as they go,The maids along the hill-side have ta'en their fearless way,Till they come to where the rowan trees in lonely beauty growBeside the Fairy Hawthorn grey.The hawthorn stands between the ashes tall and slim,Like matron with her twin grand-daughters at her knee;The rowan berries cluster o'er her low head grey and dimIn ruddy kisses sweet to see.The merry maidens four have ranged them in a row,Between each lovely couple a stately rowan stem,And away in mazes wavy, like skimming birds they go,Oh, never carolled bird like them!But solemn is the silence of the silvery hazeThat drinks away their voices in echoless repose,And dreamily the evening has stilled the haunted braes,And dreamier the gloaming grows.And sinking one by one, like lark-notes from the skyWhen the falcon's shadow saileth across the open shaw,Are hushed the maidens' voices, as cowering down they lieIn the flutter of their sudden awe.For, from the air above, and the grassy ground beneath,And from the mountain-ashes and the old Whitethorn between,A power of faint enchantment doth through their beings breathe,And they sink down together on the green.They sink together silent, and stealing side to side,They fling their lovely arms o'er their drooping necks so fair.Then vainly strive again their naked arms to hide,For their shrinking necks again are bare.Thus clasped and prostrate all, with their heads together bowed,Soft o'er their bosom's beating—the only human sound—They hear the silky footsteps of the silent fairy crowd,Like a river in the air, gliding round.Nor scream can any raise, nor prayer can any say,But wild, wild, the terror of the speechless three—For they feel fair Anna Grace drawn silently away,By whom they dare not look to see.They feel their tresses twine with her parting locks of gold,And the curls elastic falling, as her head withdraws;They feel her sliding arms from their trancèd arms unfold,But they dare not look to see the cause:For heavy on their senses the faint enchantment liesThrough all that night of anguish and perilous amaze;And neither fear nor wonder can ope their quivering eyesOr their limbs from the cold ground raise,Till out of Night the Earth has rolled her dewy side,With every haunted mountain and streamy vale below;When, as the mist dissolves in the yellow morning-tide,The maidens' trance dissolveth so.Then fly the ghastly three as swiftly as they may,And tell their tale of sorrow to anxious friends in vain—They pined away and died within the year and day,And ne'er was Anna Grace seen again.Samuel Ferguson

"Get up, our Anna dear, from the weary spinning wheel;For your father's on the hill, and your mother is asleep:Come up above the crags, and we'll dance a highland reelAround the fairy thorn on the steep."At Anna Grace's door 'twas thus the maidens cried,Three merry maidens fair in kirtles of the green;And Anna laid the rock[74]and the weary wheel aside,The fairest of the four, I ween.They're glancing through the glimmer of the quiet eve,Away in milky wavings of neck and ankle bare;The heavy-sliding stream in its sleep song they leave,And the crags in the ghostly air.And linking hand and hand, and singing as they go,The maids along the hill-side have ta'en their fearless way,Till they come to where the rowan trees in lonely beauty growBeside the Fairy Hawthorn grey.The hawthorn stands between the ashes tall and slim,Like matron with her twin grand-daughters at her knee;The rowan berries cluster o'er her low head grey and dimIn ruddy kisses sweet to see.The merry maidens four have ranged them in a row,Between each lovely couple a stately rowan stem,And away in mazes wavy, like skimming birds they go,Oh, never carolled bird like them!But solemn is the silence of the silvery hazeThat drinks away their voices in echoless repose,And dreamily the evening has stilled the haunted braes,And dreamier the gloaming grows.And sinking one by one, like lark-notes from the skyWhen the falcon's shadow saileth across the open shaw,Are hushed the maidens' voices, as cowering down they lieIn the flutter of their sudden awe.For, from the air above, and the grassy ground beneath,And from the mountain-ashes and the old Whitethorn between,A power of faint enchantment doth through their beings breathe,And they sink down together on the green.They sink together silent, and stealing side to side,They fling their lovely arms o'er their drooping necks so fair.Then vainly strive again their naked arms to hide,For their shrinking necks again are bare.Thus clasped and prostrate all, with their heads together bowed,Soft o'er their bosom's beating—the only human sound—They hear the silky footsteps of the silent fairy crowd,Like a river in the air, gliding round.Nor scream can any raise, nor prayer can any say,But wild, wild, the terror of the speechless three—For they feel fair Anna Grace drawn silently away,By whom they dare not look to see.They feel their tresses twine with her parting locks of gold,And the curls elastic falling, as her head withdraws;They feel her sliding arms from their trancèd arms unfold,But they dare not look to see the cause:For heavy on their senses the faint enchantment liesThrough all that night of anguish and perilous amaze;And neither fear nor wonder can ope their quivering eyesOr their limbs from the cold ground raise,Till out of Night the Earth has rolled her dewy side,With every haunted mountain and streamy vale below;When, as the mist dissolves in the yellow morning-tide,The maidens' trance dissolveth so.Then fly the ghastly three as swiftly as they may,And tell their tale of sorrow to anxious friends in vain—They pined away and died within the year and day,And ne'er was Anna Grace seen again.Samuel Ferguson

"Get up, our Anna dear, from the weary spinning wheel;

For your father's on the hill, and your mother is asleep:

Come up above the crags, and we'll dance a highland reel

Around the fairy thorn on the steep."

At Anna Grace's door 'twas thus the maidens cried,Three merry maidens fair in kirtles of the green;And Anna laid the rock[74]and the weary wheel aside,The fairest of the four, I ween.

At Anna Grace's door 'twas thus the maidens cried,

Three merry maidens fair in kirtles of the green;

And Anna laid the rock[74]and the weary wheel aside,

The fairest of the four, I ween.

They're glancing through the glimmer of the quiet eve,Away in milky wavings of neck and ankle bare;The heavy-sliding stream in its sleep song they leave,And the crags in the ghostly air.

They're glancing through the glimmer of the quiet eve,

Away in milky wavings of neck and ankle bare;

The heavy-sliding stream in its sleep song they leave,

And the crags in the ghostly air.

And linking hand and hand, and singing as they go,The maids along the hill-side have ta'en their fearless way,Till they come to where the rowan trees in lonely beauty growBeside the Fairy Hawthorn grey.

And linking hand and hand, and singing as they go,

The maids along the hill-side have ta'en their fearless way,

Till they come to where the rowan trees in lonely beauty grow

Beside the Fairy Hawthorn grey.

The hawthorn stands between the ashes tall and slim,Like matron with her twin grand-daughters at her knee;The rowan berries cluster o'er her low head grey and dimIn ruddy kisses sweet to see.

The hawthorn stands between the ashes tall and slim,

Like matron with her twin grand-daughters at her knee;

The rowan berries cluster o'er her low head grey and dim

In ruddy kisses sweet to see.

The merry maidens four have ranged them in a row,Between each lovely couple a stately rowan stem,And away in mazes wavy, like skimming birds they go,Oh, never carolled bird like them!

The merry maidens four have ranged them in a row,

Between each lovely couple a stately rowan stem,

And away in mazes wavy, like skimming birds they go,

Oh, never carolled bird like them!

But solemn is the silence of the silvery hazeThat drinks away their voices in echoless repose,And dreamily the evening has stilled the haunted braes,And dreamier the gloaming grows.

But solemn is the silence of the silvery haze

That drinks away their voices in echoless repose,

And dreamily the evening has stilled the haunted braes,

And dreamier the gloaming grows.

And sinking one by one, like lark-notes from the skyWhen the falcon's shadow saileth across the open shaw,Are hushed the maidens' voices, as cowering down they lieIn the flutter of their sudden awe.

And sinking one by one, like lark-notes from the sky

When the falcon's shadow saileth across the open shaw,

Are hushed the maidens' voices, as cowering down they lie

In the flutter of their sudden awe.

For, from the air above, and the grassy ground beneath,And from the mountain-ashes and the old Whitethorn between,A power of faint enchantment doth through their beings breathe,And they sink down together on the green.

For, from the air above, and the grassy ground beneath,

And from the mountain-ashes and the old Whitethorn between,

A power of faint enchantment doth through their beings breathe,

And they sink down together on the green.

They sink together silent, and stealing side to side,They fling their lovely arms o'er their drooping necks so fair.Then vainly strive again their naked arms to hide,For their shrinking necks again are bare.

They sink together silent, and stealing side to side,

They fling their lovely arms o'er their drooping necks so fair.

Then vainly strive again their naked arms to hide,

For their shrinking necks again are bare.

Thus clasped and prostrate all, with their heads together bowed,Soft o'er their bosom's beating—the only human sound—They hear the silky footsteps of the silent fairy crowd,Like a river in the air, gliding round.

Thus clasped and prostrate all, with their heads together bowed,

Soft o'er their bosom's beating—the only human sound—

They hear the silky footsteps of the silent fairy crowd,

Like a river in the air, gliding round.

Nor scream can any raise, nor prayer can any say,But wild, wild, the terror of the speechless three—For they feel fair Anna Grace drawn silently away,By whom they dare not look to see.

Nor scream can any raise, nor prayer can any say,

But wild, wild, the terror of the speechless three—

For they feel fair Anna Grace drawn silently away,

By whom they dare not look to see.

They feel their tresses twine with her parting locks of gold,And the curls elastic falling, as her head withdraws;They feel her sliding arms from their trancèd arms unfold,But they dare not look to see the cause:

They feel their tresses twine with her parting locks of gold,

And the curls elastic falling, as her head withdraws;

They feel her sliding arms from their trancèd arms unfold,

But they dare not look to see the cause:

For heavy on their senses the faint enchantment liesThrough all that night of anguish and perilous amaze;And neither fear nor wonder can ope their quivering eyesOr their limbs from the cold ground raise,

For heavy on their senses the faint enchantment lies

Through all that night of anguish and perilous amaze;

And neither fear nor wonder can ope their quivering eyes

Or their limbs from the cold ground raise,

Till out of Night the Earth has rolled her dewy side,With every haunted mountain and streamy vale below;When, as the mist dissolves in the yellow morning-tide,The maidens' trance dissolveth so.

Till out of Night the Earth has rolled her dewy side,

With every haunted mountain and streamy vale below;

When, as the mist dissolves in the yellow morning-tide,

The maidens' trance dissolveth so.

Then fly the ghastly three as swiftly as they may,And tell their tale of sorrow to anxious friends in vain—They pined away and died within the year and day,And ne'er was Anna Grace seen again.Samuel Ferguson

Then fly the ghastly three as swiftly as they may,

And tell their tale of sorrow to anxious friends in vain—

They pined away and died within the year and day,

And ne'er was Anna Grace seen again.

Samuel Ferguson

136

THE QUEEN OF ELFLANDTrue Thomas lay oer yond grassy bank,And he beheld a ladie gay,A ladie that was brisk and bold,Come riding oer the fernie brae.Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,Her mantel of the velvet fine,At ilka tett of her horse's maneHung fifty silver bells and nine.True Thomas he took off his hat,And bowed him low down till his knee:"All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!For your peer on earth I never did see.""O no, O no, True Thomas," she says,"That name does not belong to me;I am but the queen of fair Elfland,And I'm come here for to visit thee...."But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas,True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,For ye maun serve me seven years,Thro weel or wae as may chance to be."Then harp and carp, Thomas," she said,"Then harp and carp alang wi me;But it will be seven years and a dayTill ye win back to yere ain countrie."She turned about her milk-white steed,And took True Thomas up behind,And aye wheneer her bridle rang,The steed flew swifter than the wind.For forty days and forty nightsHe wade thro red blude to the knee,And he saw neither sun nor moon,But heard the roaring of the sea.O they rade on, and further on,Until they came to a garden green:"Light down, light down, ye ladie free,Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.""O no, O no, True Thomas," she says,"That fruit maun not be touched by thee,For a' the plagues that are in hellLight on the fruit of this countrie."But I have a loaf here in my lap,Likewise a bottle of claret wine,And now ere we go farther on,We'll rest a while, and ye may dine."When he had eaten and drunk his fill:—"Lay down your head upon my knee,"The lady sayd, "ere we climb yon hillAnd I will show you fairlies three."O see not ye yon narrow road,So thick beset wi thorns and briers?That is the path of righteousness,Tho after it but few enquires."And see not ye that braid braid road,That lies across yon lillie leven?That is the path of wickedness,Tho some call it the road to heaven."And see not ye that bonny road,Which winds about the fernie brae?That is the road to fair Elfland,Where you and I this night maun gae"But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,Whatever you may hear or see,For gin ae word you should chance to speak,You will neer get back to your ain countrie."He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,And a pair of shoes of velvet green,And till seven years were past and goneTrue Thomas on earth was never seen.

True Thomas lay oer yond grassy bank,And he beheld a ladie gay,A ladie that was brisk and bold,Come riding oer the fernie brae.Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,Her mantel of the velvet fine,At ilka tett of her horse's maneHung fifty silver bells and nine.True Thomas he took off his hat,And bowed him low down till his knee:"All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!For your peer on earth I never did see.""O no, O no, True Thomas," she says,"That name does not belong to me;I am but the queen of fair Elfland,And I'm come here for to visit thee...."But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas,True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,For ye maun serve me seven years,Thro weel or wae as may chance to be."Then harp and carp, Thomas," she said,"Then harp and carp alang wi me;But it will be seven years and a dayTill ye win back to yere ain countrie."She turned about her milk-white steed,And took True Thomas up behind,And aye wheneer her bridle rang,The steed flew swifter than the wind.For forty days and forty nightsHe wade thro red blude to the knee,And he saw neither sun nor moon,But heard the roaring of the sea.O they rade on, and further on,Until they came to a garden green:"Light down, light down, ye ladie free,Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.""O no, O no, True Thomas," she says,"That fruit maun not be touched by thee,For a' the plagues that are in hellLight on the fruit of this countrie."But I have a loaf here in my lap,Likewise a bottle of claret wine,And now ere we go farther on,We'll rest a while, and ye may dine."When he had eaten and drunk his fill:—"Lay down your head upon my knee,"The lady sayd, "ere we climb yon hillAnd I will show you fairlies three."O see not ye yon narrow road,So thick beset wi thorns and briers?That is the path of righteousness,Tho after it but few enquires."And see not ye that braid braid road,That lies across yon lillie leven?That is the path of wickedness,Tho some call it the road to heaven."And see not ye that bonny road,Which winds about the fernie brae?That is the road to fair Elfland,Where you and I this night maun gae"But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,Whatever you may hear or see,For gin ae word you should chance to speak,You will neer get back to your ain countrie."He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,And a pair of shoes of velvet green,And till seven years were past and goneTrue Thomas on earth was never seen.

True Thomas lay oer yond grassy bank,And he beheld a ladie gay,A ladie that was brisk and bold,Come riding oer the fernie brae.

True Thomas lay oer yond grassy bank,

And he beheld a ladie gay,

A ladie that was brisk and bold,

Come riding oer the fernie brae.

Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,Her mantel of the velvet fine,At ilka tett of her horse's maneHung fifty silver bells and nine.

Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,

Her mantel of the velvet fine,

At ilka tett of her horse's mane

Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

True Thomas he took off his hat,And bowed him low down till his knee:"All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!For your peer on earth I never did see."

True Thomas he took off his hat,

And bowed him low down till his knee:

"All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!

For your peer on earth I never did see."

"O no, O no, True Thomas," she says,"That name does not belong to me;I am but the queen of fair Elfland,And I'm come here for to visit thee....

"O no, O no, True Thomas," she says,

"That name does not belong to me;

I am but the queen of fair Elfland,

And I'm come here for to visit thee....

"But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas,True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,For ye maun serve me seven years,Thro weel or wae as may chance to be.

"But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas,

True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,

For ye maun serve me seven years,

Thro weel or wae as may chance to be.

"Then harp and carp, Thomas," she said,"Then harp and carp alang wi me;But it will be seven years and a dayTill ye win back to yere ain countrie."

"Then harp and carp, Thomas," she said,

"Then harp and carp alang wi me;

But it will be seven years and a day

Till ye win back to yere ain countrie."

She turned about her milk-white steed,And took True Thomas up behind,And aye wheneer her bridle rang,The steed flew swifter than the wind.

She turned about her milk-white steed,

And took True Thomas up behind,

And aye wheneer her bridle rang,

The steed flew swifter than the wind.

For forty days and forty nightsHe wade thro red blude to the knee,And he saw neither sun nor moon,But heard the roaring of the sea.

For forty days and forty nights

He wade thro red blude to the knee,

And he saw neither sun nor moon,

But heard the roaring of the sea.

O they rade on, and further on,Until they came to a garden green:"Light down, light down, ye ladie free,Some of that fruit let me pull to thee."

O they rade on, and further on,

Until they came to a garden green:

"Light down, light down, ye ladie free,

Some of that fruit let me pull to thee."

"O no, O no, True Thomas," she says,"That fruit maun not be touched by thee,For a' the plagues that are in hellLight on the fruit of this countrie.

"O no, O no, True Thomas," she says,

"That fruit maun not be touched by thee,

For a' the plagues that are in hell

Light on the fruit of this countrie.

"But I have a loaf here in my lap,Likewise a bottle of claret wine,And now ere we go farther on,We'll rest a while, and ye may dine."

"But I have a loaf here in my lap,

Likewise a bottle of claret wine,

And now ere we go farther on,

We'll rest a while, and ye may dine."

When he had eaten and drunk his fill:—"Lay down your head upon my knee,"The lady sayd, "ere we climb yon hillAnd I will show you fairlies three.

When he had eaten and drunk his fill:—

"Lay down your head upon my knee,"

The lady sayd, "ere we climb yon hill

And I will show you fairlies three.

"O see not ye yon narrow road,So thick beset wi thorns and briers?That is the path of righteousness,Tho after it but few enquires.

"O see not ye yon narrow road,

So thick beset wi thorns and briers?

That is the path of righteousness,

Tho after it but few enquires.

"And see not ye that braid braid road,That lies across yon lillie leven?That is the path of wickedness,Tho some call it the road to heaven.

"And see not ye that braid braid road,

That lies across yon lillie leven?

That is the path of wickedness,

Tho some call it the road to heaven.

"And see not ye that bonny road,Which winds about the fernie brae?That is the road to fair Elfland,Where you and I this night maun gae

"And see not ye that bonny road,

Which winds about the fernie brae?

That is the road to fair Elfland,

Where you and I this night maun gae

"But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,Whatever you may hear or see,For gin ae word you should chance to speak,You will neer get back to your ain countrie."

"But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,

Whatever you may hear or see,

For gin ae word you should chance to speak,

You will neer get back to your ain countrie."

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,And a pair of shoes of velvet green,And till seven years were past and goneTrue Thomas on earth was never seen.

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,

And a pair of shoes of velvet green,

And till seven years were past and gone

True Thomas on earth was never seen.

137

LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCIO, what can ail thee, knight at arms,Alone and palely loitering;The sedge has withered from the lake,And no birds sing.O, what can ail thee, knight at arms,So haggard and so woe-begone?The squirrel's granary is full,And the harvest's done.I see a lilly on thy browWith anguish moist and fever-dew,And on thy cheeks a fading roseFast withereth too.I met a lady in the meads,Full beautiful—a faery's child,Her hair was long, her foot was light,And her eyes were wild.I made a garland for her head,And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;She looked at me as she did love,And made sweet moan.I set her on my pacing steedAnd nothing else saw all day long;For sideways would she lean, and singA faery's song.She found me roots of relish sweet,And honey wild and manna dew;And sure in language strange she said—I love thee true.She took me to her elfin grot,And there she gazed and sighed full sore:And there I shut her wild wild eyesWith kisses four.And there she lullèd me asleep,And there I dreamed, ah woe betide,The latest dream I ever dreamedOn the cold hill side.I saw pale kings and princes too,Pale warriors, death-pale were they all:They cry'd—"La belle Dame sans MerciHath thee in thrall!"I saw their starved lips in the gloamWith horrid warning gapèd wide,And I awoke, and found me hereOn the cold hill side.And this is why I sojourn hereAlone and palely loitering,Though the sedge is withered from the lake,And no birds sing.John Keats

O, what can ail thee, knight at arms,Alone and palely loitering;The sedge has withered from the lake,And no birds sing.O, what can ail thee, knight at arms,So haggard and so woe-begone?The squirrel's granary is full,And the harvest's done.I see a lilly on thy browWith anguish moist and fever-dew,And on thy cheeks a fading roseFast withereth too.I met a lady in the meads,Full beautiful—a faery's child,Her hair was long, her foot was light,And her eyes were wild.I made a garland for her head,And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;She looked at me as she did love,And made sweet moan.I set her on my pacing steedAnd nothing else saw all day long;For sideways would she lean, and singA faery's song.She found me roots of relish sweet,And honey wild and manna dew;And sure in language strange she said—I love thee true.She took me to her elfin grot,And there she gazed and sighed full sore:And there I shut her wild wild eyesWith kisses four.And there she lullèd me asleep,And there I dreamed, ah woe betide,The latest dream I ever dreamedOn the cold hill side.I saw pale kings and princes too,Pale warriors, death-pale were they all:They cry'd—"La belle Dame sans MerciHath thee in thrall!"I saw their starved lips in the gloamWith horrid warning gapèd wide,And I awoke, and found me hereOn the cold hill side.And this is why I sojourn hereAlone and palely loitering,Though the sedge is withered from the lake,And no birds sing.John Keats

O, what can ail thee, knight at arms,Alone and palely loitering;The sedge has withered from the lake,And no birds sing.

O, what can ail thee, knight at arms,

Alone and palely loitering;

The sedge has withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

O, what can ail thee, knight at arms,So haggard and so woe-begone?The squirrel's granary is full,And the harvest's done.

O, what can ail thee, knight at arms,

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel's granary is full,

And the harvest's done.

I see a lilly on thy browWith anguish moist and fever-dew,And on thy cheeks a fading roseFast withereth too.

I see a lilly on thy brow

With anguish moist and fever-dew,

And on thy cheeks a fading rose

Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,Full beautiful—a faery's child,Her hair was long, her foot was light,And her eyes were wild.

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful—a faery's child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;She looked at me as she did love,And made sweet moan.

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

I set her on my pacing steedAnd nothing else saw all day long;For sideways would she lean, and singA faery's song.

I set her on my pacing steed

And nothing else saw all day long;

For sideways would she lean, and sing

A faery's song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,And honey wild and manna dew;And sure in language strange she said—I love thee true.

She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild and manna dew;

And sure in language strange she said—

I love thee true.

She took me to her elfin grot,And there she gazed and sighed full sore:And there I shut her wild wild eyesWith kisses four.

She took me to her elfin grot,

And there she gazed and sighed full sore:

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep,And there I dreamed, ah woe betide,The latest dream I ever dreamedOn the cold hill side.

And there she lullèd me asleep,

And there I dreamed, ah woe betide,

The latest dream I ever dreamed

On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,Pale warriors, death-pale were they all:They cry'd—"La belle Dame sans MerciHath thee in thrall!"

I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all:

They cry'd—"La belle Dame sans Merci

Hath thee in thrall!"

I saw their starved lips in the gloamWith horrid warning gapèd wide,And I awoke, and found me hereOn the cold hill side.

I saw their starved lips in the gloam

With horrid warning gapèd wide,

And I awoke, and found me here

On the cold hill side.

And this is why I sojourn hereAlone and palely loitering,Though the sedge is withered from the lake,And no birds sing.John Keats

And this is why I sojourn here

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

John Keats

138

SABRINA"Sabrina fairListen where thou art sittingUnder the glassie, cool, translucent wave,In twisted braids of Lillies knittingThe loose train of thy amber-dropping hair,Listen for dear honour's sake,Goddess of the silver lake,Listen and save!...By all theNymphsthat nightly danceUpon thy streams with wily glance,Rise, rise, and heave thy rosie headFrom thy coral-pav'n bed,And bridle in thy headlong wave,Till thou our summons answered have.Listen and save!""By the rushy-fringèd bank,Where grows the Willow and the Osier dank,My sliding Chariot stayes,Thick set with Agat, and the azurn sheenOf Turkis blew, and Emrauld greenThat in the channell strayes,Whilst from off the waters fleetThus I set my printless feetO're the Cowslips Velvet head,That bends not as I tread,Gentle swain at thy requestI am here."John Milton

"Sabrina fairListen where thou art sittingUnder the glassie, cool, translucent wave,In twisted braids of Lillies knittingThe loose train of thy amber-dropping hair,Listen for dear honour's sake,Goddess of the silver lake,Listen and save!...By all theNymphsthat nightly danceUpon thy streams with wily glance,Rise, rise, and heave thy rosie headFrom thy coral-pav'n bed,And bridle in thy headlong wave,Till thou our summons answered have.Listen and save!""By the rushy-fringèd bank,Where grows the Willow and the Osier dank,My sliding Chariot stayes,Thick set with Agat, and the azurn sheenOf Turkis blew, and Emrauld greenThat in the channell strayes,Whilst from off the waters fleetThus I set my printless feetO're the Cowslips Velvet head,That bends not as I tread,Gentle swain at thy requestI am here."John Milton

"Sabrina fair

Listen where thou art sitting

Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave,

In twisted braids of Lillies knitting

The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair,

Listen for dear honour's sake,

Goddess of the silver lake,

Listen and save!...

By all theNymphsthat nightly danceUpon thy streams with wily glance,Rise, rise, and heave thy rosie headFrom thy coral-pav'n bed,And bridle in thy headlong wave,Till thou our summons answered have.Listen and save!"

By all theNymphsthat nightly dance

Upon thy streams with wily glance,

Rise, rise, and heave thy rosie head

From thy coral-pav'n bed,

And bridle in thy headlong wave,

Till thou our summons answered have.

Listen and save!"

"By the rushy-fringèd bank,Where grows the Willow and the Osier dank,My sliding Chariot stayes,Thick set with Agat, and the azurn sheenOf Turkis blew, and Emrauld greenThat in the channell strayes,Whilst from off the waters fleetThus I set my printless feetO're the Cowslips Velvet head,That bends not as I tread,Gentle swain at thy requestI am here."John Milton

"By the rushy-fringèd bank,

Where grows the Willow and the Osier dank,

My sliding Chariot stayes,

Thick set with Agat, and the azurn sheen

Of Turkis blew, and Emrauld green

That in the channell strayes,

Whilst from off the waters fleet

Thus I set my printless feet

O're the Cowslips Velvet head,

That bends not as I tread,

Gentle swain at thy request

I am here."

John Milton

139

NOW THE HUNGRY LION ROARS"Now the hungry Lyon rores,And the Wolfe behowls the Moone:Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,All with weary taske fordone.Now the wasted brands doe glow,Whil'st the scritch-owle scritching loud,Puts the wretch that lies in woeIn remembrance of a shrowd.Now it is the time of nightThat the graves, all gaping wide,Every one lets forth his spright,In the Church-way paths to glide.And we Fairies, that do runneBy the tripleHecate's teame,From the presence of the Sunne,Following darknesse like a dreame,Now are frollicke; not a MouseShall disturbe this hallowed house.I am sent with broome before,To sweep the dust behinde the doore.""Through the house give glimmering light,By the dead and drowsie fier;Everie Elfe and Fairie sprightHop as light as bird from brier!..."William Shakespeare

"Now the hungry Lyon rores,And the Wolfe behowls the Moone:Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,All with weary taske fordone.Now the wasted brands doe glow,Whil'st the scritch-owle scritching loud,Puts the wretch that lies in woeIn remembrance of a shrowd.Now it is the time of nightThat the graves, all gaping wide,Every one lets forth his spright,In the Church-way paths to glide.And we Fairies, that do runneBy the tripleHecate's teame,From the presence of the Sunne,Following darknesse like a dreame,Now are frollicke; not a MouseShall disturbe this hallowed house.I am sent with broome before,To sweep the dust behinde the doore.""Through the house give glimmering light,By the dead and drowsie fier;Everie Elfe and Fairie sprightHop as light as bird from brier!..."William Shakespeare

"Now the hungry Lyon rores,

And the Wolfe behowls the Moone:

Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,

All with weary taske fordone.

Now the wasted brands doe glow,

Whil'st the scritch-owle scritching loud,

Puts the wretch that lies in woe

In remembrance of a shrowd.

Now it is the time of night

That the graves, all gaping wide,

Every one lets forth his spright,

In the Church-way paths to glide.

And we Fairies, that do runne

By the tripleHecate's teame,

From the presence of the Sunne,

Following darknesse like a dreame,

Now are frollicke; not a Mouse

Shall disturbe this hallowed house.

I am sent with broome before,

To sweep the dust behinde the doore."

"Through the house give glimmering light,By the dead and drowsie fier;Everie Elfe and Fairie sprightHop as light as bird from brier!..."William Shakespeare

"Through the house give glimmering light,

By the dead and drowsie fier;

Everie Elfe and Fairie spright

Hop as light as bird from brier!..."

William Shakespeare

140

THE FAIRIES FEAST...Awn.Who feasts tonight?Some Elves.Prince Olbin is truth-plightTo Rosalind, daughter of the Faery Queen.Other Elves.She's a mannikin changeling; her name shows it.Other Elves.We have heard tell; that she as dream is fair.Awn.I've heard old Paigle say, fays gave for herTo humans, in the cradle, Moonsheen bright.Other Elves.And Eglantine should wedded be this night,To Ivytwine, in the laughing full moon.Moth.I was there and saw it: on hoar roots,All gnarled and knotty, of an antique oak, ...Crowned, some with plighted frets of violets sweet;Other, with flower-cups many-hewed, had dightTheir locks of gold; the gentle faeries sate:All in their watchet cloaks: were dainty matsSpread under them, of dwarve-wives rushen work:And primroses were strewed before their feet.They at banquet sate, from dim of afternoon ...(Enter more elves running.)Howt.Whence come ye foothot?One of the new-come Elves.O Awn, O Howt!Not past a league from hence, lies close-cropped plot,Where purple milkworts blow, which conies haunt,Amidst the windy heath. We saw gnomes danceThere; that not bigger been than harvest mice.Some of their heads were deckt, as seemed to us,With moonbeams bright: and those tonight hold feast:Though in them there none utterance is of speech.Awn.Be those our mothers' cousins, dainty of grace:But seld now, in a moonlight, are they seen.They live not longer than do humble been.Elves.We saw of living herb, intressed with moss,Their small wrought cabins open on the grass.Awn.Other, in gossamer bowers, wonne underclod.Elves.And each gnome held in hand a looking glass;Wherein he keeked, and kissed oft the Moons face.Awn.Are they a faery offspring, without sex,Of the stars' rays.Elves.They'd wings on their flit feet;That seemed, in their oft shining, glancing dropsOf rain, which beat on bosom of the grass:Wherein be some congealed as adamant.We stooped to gaze (a neighbour tussock hidus,)On sight so fair: their beauty being such,That seemed us it all living thought did pass.Yet were we spied! for looked down full upon us,Disclosing then murk skies, Moons clear still face.In that they shrunk back, and clapped tó their doors....Charles M. Doughty

...Awn.Who feasts tonight?Some Elves.Prince Olbin is truth-plightTo Rosalind, daughter of the Faery Queen.Other Elves.She's a mannikin changeling; her name shows it.Other Elves.We have heard tell; that she as dream is fair.Awn.I've heard old Paigle say, fays gave for herTo humans, in the cradle, Moonsheen bright.Other Elves.And Eglantine should wedded be this night,To Ivytwine, in the laughing full moon.Moth.I was there and saw it: on hoar roots,All gnarled and knotty, of an antique oak, ...Crowned, some with plighted frets of violets sweet;Other, with flower-cups many-hewed, had dightTheir locks of gold; the gentle faeries sate:All in their watchet cloaks: were dainty matsSpread under them, of dwarve-wives rushen work:And primroses were strewed before their feet.They at banquet sate, from dim of afternoon ...(Enter more elves running.)Howt.Whence come ye foothot?One of the new-come Elves.O Awn, O Howt!Not past a league from hence, lies close-cropped plot,Where purple milkworts blow, which conies haunt,Amidst the windy heath. We saw gnomes danceThere; that not bigger been than harvest mice.Some of their heads were deckt, as seemed to us,With moonbeams bright: and those tonight hold feast:Though in them there none utterance is of speech.Awn.Be those our mothers' cousins, dainty of grace:But seld now, in a moonlight, are they seen.They live not longer than do humble been.Elves.We saw of living herb, intressed with moss,Their small wrought cabins open on the grass.Awn.Other, in gossamer bowers, wonne underclod.Elves.And each gnome held in hand a looking glass;Wherein he keeked, and kissed oft the Moons face.Awn.Are they a faery offspring, without sex,Of the stars' rays.Elves.They'd wings on their flit feet;That seemed, in their oft shining, glancing dropsOf rain, which beat on bosom of the grass:Wherein be some congealed as adamant.We stooped to gaze (a neighbour tussock hidus,)On sight so fair: their beauty being such,That seemed us it all living thought did pass.Yet were we spied! for looked down full upon us,Disclosing then murk skies, Moons clear still face.In that they shrunk back, and clapped tó their doors....Charles M. Doughty

...Awn.Who feasts tonight?

Some Elves.Prince Olbin is truth-plightTo Rosalind, daughter of the Faery Queen.

Some Elves.Prince Olbin is truth-plight

To Rosalind, daughter of the Faery Queen.

Other Elves.She's a mannikin changeling; her name shows it.

Other Elves.We have heard tell; that she as dream is fair.

Awn.I've heard old Paigle say, fays gave for herTo humans, in the cradle, Moonsheen bright.

Awn.I've heard old Paigle say, fays gave for her

To humans, in the cradle, Moonsheen bright.

Other Elves.And Eglantine should wedded be this night,To Ivytwine, in the laughing full moon.

Other Elves.And Eglantine should wedded be this night,

To Ivytwine, in the laughing full moon.

Moth.I was there and saw it: on hoar roots,All gnarled and knotty, of an antique oak, ...Crowned, some with plighted frets of violets sweet;Other, with flower-cups many-hewed, had dightTheir locks of gold; the gentle faeries sate:All in their watchet cloaks: were dainty matsSpread under them, of dwarve-wives rushen work:And primroses were strewed before their feet.They at banquet sate, from dim of afternoon ...(Enter more elves running.)

Moth.I was there and saw it: on hoar roots,

All gnarled and knotty, of an antique oak, ...

Crowned, some with plighted frets of violets sweet;

Other, with flower-cups many-hewed, had dight

Their locks of gold; the gentle faeries sate:

All in their watchet cloaks: were dainty mats

Spread under them, of dwarve-wives rushen work:

And primroses were strewed before their feet.

They at banquet sate, from dim of afternoon ...

(Enter more elves running.)

Howt.Whence come ye foothot?

One of the new-come Elves.O Awn, O Howt!Not past a league from hence, lies close-cropped plot,Where purple milkworts blow, which conies haunt,Amidst the windy heath. We saw gnomes danceThere; that not bigger been than harvest mice.Some of their heads were deckt, as seemed to us,With moonbeams bright: and those tonight hold feast:Though in them there none utterance is of speech.

One of the new-come Elves.O Awn, O Howt!

Not past a league from hence, lies close-cropped plot,

Where purple milkworts blow, which conies haunt,

Amidst the windy heath. We saw gnomes dance

There; that not bigger been than harvest mice.

Some of their heads were deckt, as seemed to us,

With moonbeams bright: and those tonight hold feast:

Though in them there none utterance is of speech.

Awn.Be those our mothers' cousins, dainty of grace:But seld now, in a moonlight, are they seen.They live not longer than do humble been.

Awn.Be those our mothers' cousins, dainty of grace:

But seld now, in a moonlight, are they seen.

They live not longer than do humble been.

Elves.We saw of living herb, intressed with moss,Their small wrought cabins open on the grass.

Elves.We saw of living herb, intressed with moss,

Their small wrought cabins open on the grass.

Awn.Other, in gossamer bowers, wonne underclod.

Elves.And each gnome held in hand a looking glass;Wherein he keeked, and kissed oft the Moons face.

Elves.And each gnome held in hand a looking glass;

Wherein he keeked, and kissed oft the Moons face.

Awn.Are they a faery offspring, without sex,Of the stars' rays.

Awn.Are they a faery offspring, without sex,

Of the stars' rays.

Elves.They'd wings on their flit feet;That seemed, in their oft shining, glancing dropsOf rain, which beat on bosom of the grass:Wherein be some congealed as adamant.We stooped to gaze (a neighbour tussock hidus,)On sight so fair: their beauty being such,That seemed us it all living thought did pass.Yet were we spied! for looked down full upon us,

Elves.They'd wings on their flit feet;

That seemed, in their oft shining, glancing drops

Of rain, which beat on bosom of the grass:

Wherein be some congealed as adamant.

We stooped to gaze (a neighbour tussock hidus,)

On sight so fair: their beauty being such,

That seemed us it all living thought did pass.

Yet were we spied! for looked down full upon us,

Disclosing then murk skies, Moons clear still face.In that they shrunk back, and clapped tó their doors....Charles M. Doughty

Disclosing then murk skies, Moons clear still face.

In that they shrunk back, and clapped tó their doors....

Charles M. Doughty

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