THE BARLEY-CANDY BOY.

OTHE Barley-Candy Boy! O the Bar-

ley-Candy Boy!

Who lived in the toy-man's window, 'tis little

he had of joy!

For he could not eat a bit of sweet, nor any

sugar at all,

Unless he ran a fearful risk of being a can-

nibal.

MID feeding lambs and springing grass

There sat a little lad and lass,

A green umbrella overhead,

The flickering shade of boughs instead,

And read a book of fairy rhyme,

All in their gay vacation time.

Quoth he: "The dearest, queerest story

Was that one of the fairy prince,

Who sailed down stream in his pearl dory,

Neath boughs of rose and flowering quince,

To save the lovely princess whom

The wicked, white-haired, old witch-lady

Kept in a tower of awful gloom,

Deep in a magic forest shady:

How proud he tossed his plumèd head

Before the witch's door, and said "—

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Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Honey-sweet the clover's

blowing

Ba-a, ba-a! Juicy-green the grass is

growing.

"I think," quoth she, "there's one that's

better:

About that little fairy girl,

Who bound the ogre with a fetter

Of spiderwort and grass and pearl;

Then singing in the gateway sat,

Till up the road the prince came prancing,

A jewelled feather in his hat,

And set the cherry-boughs a-dancing.

How low he bent his handsome head

Before the fairy girl, and said "—

Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Who the day so sweetly

passes

As a lamb who never stops,

But from dawn to twilight crops

Clover-heads and dewy grasses?

"Well, by and by I think I'll be

A fairy prince as brave as he:

I'll wind a silver bugle clear,

Low and dim you'll hear it, dear;

A sword with jewelled hilt I'll bear,

A cap and heron-plume I'll wear,

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And I will rescue you," quoth

he.

"Fast to the witch's tower I'll

And beat upon the gate, and

cry

Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Sweet the

simple life we're leading,

In the sweet green pasture

feeding!

Then quoth the little reader

fair.

"I've changed my mind, for I don't dare

To stay there in the witch's tower;

I'll be the dame who found a flower

Of gold and rubies—in the tale—

And sold it for a fairy veil,

Which made her look so sweet and true

That she was dearly loved; then you "—

Sheep: Ba-a, ba-a! Turn the juicy morsel over.

Who would be a lad or lass,

If he could his summer pass

As the sheep amongst the clover?

Grasshoppers on daisies teeter,

Dew-drops clovers sweeten sweeter.

Who can care for stupid tales,

Fairy horns and f airy veils,

Fairy princess, fairy prince?

Yet we must not blame them, since

( Turn the juicy morsel over)

They cannot be sheep in clover.

CLING, clang,—"Whoa, my bonny gray

mare!

Whoa,"—cling, clang,—"my bay!

But the black and the sorrel must stay unshod,

While my two fair sons are away."

While the blacksmith spake, his fair sons

came,

And stood in the smithy door—

"Now where have ye been, my two fair sons,

For your father has missed ye sore? "

Then pleasantly spake the younger son,

With the eyes of dreamy blue:

"O Father, we've been in a land as bright

As the glint o' the morning dew! "

Then his brother twinkled his gay black eyes,

And he spake up merry and bold:

"Hey, Father, we've been in the fairy land,

Where the horses are shod wi' gold!"

"An' what did ye there in Fairyland,

O my two fair sons, I pray?"

"We shod for them, Father, their fairy steeds,

All in a month an' a day.

"An', Father, we shod them wi' virgin gold;

Each nail had a diamond head;

All the steeds were as white as the clear moon-

light,

An' in fields o' lilies they fed."

"An' what was the sum o' the fairy hire,

O my two fair sons, I pray?"

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"A seed of a wonderful fairy flower,

They gave to us each for pay! "

"An' what will ye do wi' the seeds, fair

sons?"

"We will sow i' the light, green spring,

An' maybe a golden rose will toss,

Or a silver lily will swing."

"Now,"—cling, clang,—"whoa, my bonny

gray mare!

Whoa,"—cling, clang,—"my bay!

An' the sorrel an' black, now my sons are

back,

Can be shod "—cling, clang,—"to-day."

Oh! the smith's sons planted the fairy seeds

When the light, green spring came round,

Through the sunlit hours, 'twixt the April

showers,

In the best of the garden ground.

Then the white rains wove with the long

light-beams,

Till a stalk, like a slim green flame,

Pierced the garden mould: a leaf unrolled;

And another beside it came.

Then the brothers tended their fairy plants

Till they shot up brave and tall,

And the leaves grew thick. "Now soon shall

we pick

A rose like a golden ball;

"Or else we shall see a lily, maybe,

With a bell o' bright silver cast,"

They thought; and they cried with joy and

When the blossom-buds shaped at last.

"Now, heyday!" shouted the elder son,

And he danced in the garden walk,

"A hat I will buy, as a steeple high,

An' the neighbors will stare an' talk.

"Heyday! I will buy me a brave gold chain,

An' a waistcoat o' satin fine,

A ruff o' lace, an' a pony an' chaise,

An' a bottle o' red old wine!"

But his brother looked up in the blue spring

sky,

And his yellow curls shone in the sun—

"O joy! If I hold but my fairy gold,

My father's toil is done!

"He shall hammer no more with his tired

old hands,

He shall shoe not the bay nor the gray;

But shall live as he please, an' sit at his ease,

A-resting the livelong day."

Alas, and alas! When it came to pass

That the bud to a flower was grown,

It was pallid and green,—no blossom so mean

In the country side was known.

Then angrily hurried the elder son,

And hustled his up by the root;

And it gave out a sound, as it left the ground,

Like the shriek of a fairy flute.

But he flung it over the garden wall;

And he cried, with a scowling brow:

"No waistcoat fine, an' no bottle o' wine—

I have labored for naught, I trow! "

"Now,"—cling, clang,—"whoa,my bonny

gray mare!

Cling, clang,—"whoa, my bay!

But the sorrel an' white must wait to-night,

For one son sulks all day."

But the blue-eyed son till the summer was

done

Cared well for his fairy-flower;

He weeded and watered, and killed the

grub

Would its delicate leaves devour.

Then forth to his garden he went one day,

And the fairy plant was dead;

The leaves were black in the white frost-

light,

And the stalk was a shrivelled shred.

"Now, never a rose like a golden ball,

Nor a silver lily shall blow;

But never I'll mind, for I'm sure to find

More gold, if I work, I know."

Then he tenderly pulled up the fairy plant,

And lo, in the frosty mould,

Like a star from the skies to his dazzled eyes,

Was blazing a bulb of gold!

"Now,"—cling, clang,—"whoa, my bonny

gray mare!

Or gallop or trot, as ye may!

This happy old smith will shoe ye no more,

For he sits at his ease, all day! "

The rose is red, the violet's blue,

Pinks are pretty, and so are you."

THE rose is red, my rosy dear;

But that you as yet hardly know,

Since you have only been with us

Four of the times when roses blow.

The violet's blue, my blue-eyed love;

Yet that, perhaps, you hardly knew,

Since you have only four times passed

The violets in their hoods of blue.

The pinks are pretty, baby queen,

And so are you; but that, also,

From being here so short a time,

Perhaps you've hardly learned to know.

BEYOND the purple gloom of moors,

Beyond the blueness of the sea,

Beyond the range of chalk-white cliffs,

The sun was setting peacefully.

The fairy, on a grassy knoll,

Sat dreaming, singing to the cows:

"Knee-deep in clumps of plumy ferns,

Knee-deep in rustling grasses browse!

"The chieftain slays his foeman's clan,

The lady broiders in the hall;

I sit here singing to the cows,

And am the gayest one of all!

"Now of the clumps of spicy fern,

Now of the juicy grasses taste!"

The fairy wore a grass-green gown,

With golden girdle at her waist;

Her winsome little face upturned,

Her soft gold hair all round her streamed;

Her small pink cheeks like roses burned,

Her wild blue eyes like jewels beamed.

She struck a little harp o' pearl,

As to the browsing kine she sung:

All lightly o'er the fairy bridge

Beyond, a bonnie laddie sprung.

He had Prince Charlie's yellow locks,

His gay blue eyes and lovesome way:

Son of the great Macleod was he—

The castle just beyond him lay.

The fairy lilted loud and sweet,

The laddie turned him round to see;

She lifted up her little face,

And sweet, and sweet, and sweet, smiled

she.

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The laddie thro' the heather

ran,

His tartan blowing out behind,

The little fairy, gowned in green,

Wi' little harp o' pearl, to find.

And since you are a mortal bairn,

And yet have shunned me not," she said,

A fairy gift I'll give to thee,

To-morrow, when the west is red.

"And since you have a bonny face,

I'll give to thee a fairy kiss,

To take the bitter from thy woe,

And add a sweetness to thy bliss."

She kissed the laddie's blushing cheek,

And all the air grew sweet around,

As if a million flowers bloomed out—

And then she vanished from the ground.

The western sky all roses was,

And round the "Macleod's Maidens'" feet

Foam-wreaths to wreaths of roses turned.

The fairy lilted loud and sweet;

The laddie o'er the fairy bridge,

Came running lightly to her side:

"And have you brought the fairy gift

You promised me last night?" he cried.

The flag was green as springtide sward

What time the sun upon it lies,

And shot with threads of glittering gold,

And filled with spots of gold, like eyes.

She put it in the laddie's hand:

"Once waved, 'twill bring thee thy desire,

And twice, and thrice—but not again;

Then cast it, worthless, in the fire!"

A shadow o'er her gown o' green,

A shadow o'er her winsome face,

A shadow o'er her golden hair,

Came softly creeping on apace.

The fairy through the shadow shone,

And struck her little harp o' pearl;

Then vanished in the shadow's heart,

Wi' golden and wi' rosy swirl.

The laddie held the fairy flag,

Alone in twilight gray and cold;

And stood and looked, his wond'ring eyes

All filled with dancing motes of gold.

The laddie's yellow beard had grown;

He'd wedded with a lady fair;

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And he had got a little son,

With his same bonnie yellow hair.

And alway had the fairy's kiss,

She gave to him so long ago,

Added a sweetness to his bliss,

And ta'en the bitter from his woe.

But never yet the fairy flag

Had waved upon the castle wall;

For with his stalwart arm and sword,

His troubles he had breasted all.

"Oh, where's my little laddie gone?"

The lady left her 'broidery frame;

Through every castle window peered,

With tearful eyes, the gentle dame.

Then Macleod called his followers out,

And loud the castle trumpets blew:

"Oh, Macleod's heir is strayed awa',

And on the heather falls the dew,

"And on the heather falls the dew;

Shadows are floating o'er the sea.

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Oh, where's my little laddie gone:

I pray ye bring him back to me!

They searched along the chalk-white cliffs,

Upon the dizzy hanging paths;

They sought him on their breezy tops,

Along the strips of grassy straths.

They called "Macleod" adown the hill;

They called "Macleod" adown the vale;

They hailed the shepherd with his flock,

The maiden with her milking-pail.

They searched Dunvergan castle thro';

Each dungeon in the thick stone wall

They peered within, but only found

The prisoned foemen, grim and tall.

His mother looked out o'er the sea,

To where the "Macleod's Maidens" stand,

To see, above the foam-wreaths, rise

His yellow head and waving hand.

The laddie came not, when the moon

With all the stars sailed out in sight,

And "Macleod's Tables," tops of snow,

Were cloth of silver in her light.

"Bring out, bring out the fairy flag!

I'll wave it from the topmost tower!

There'll come no direr need than this,

For Macleod's race has lost its flower!"

Macleod then waved the fairy flag;

It looked a net of golden wire;

Its streaks of gold and spots of gold

All linked and curled like tongues of fire.

There came a twang o' pearly harp,

There came a lilting loud and sweet;

And softly o'er the fairy bridge

There came the dance o' slender feet.

There danced along the fairy bridge

A spot i' the golden light apace:

The laddie at the castle gate

Stood lifting up his bonnie face.

"Oh, I ha' wandered by the burn,

And I ha' wandered by the glen;

A little leddy all in green,"

He said, "has led me home again."

Macleod close furled the fairy flag:

"Ye've served me once in blessed stead,

But sorely I'll be pressed again

Ere I will wave ye twice!" he said.

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All day the chief had held the field,

Nor quailed until the sun sank low:

His followers, bleeding, round him lay,

And he was hemmed in by the foe.

Oh, life is sweet! "exclaimed Macleod;

"I love my bairn and lady dear:

I'll wave again the fairy flag—

But will it bring me succor here?"

Macleod waved high the fairy flag;

H is foemen reeled back at the sight;

For in their cruel eyes there danced

Great spots and bars of golden light.

There came a twang o' pearly harp,

There came a lilting loud and sweet;

And Macleod's foemen turned and fled,

The hills all rang with flying feet.

Macleod furled close the fairy flag:

"Ye've served me twice in blessed stead,

But I shall in the churchyard lie

Ere I will wave ye thrice!" he said.

"For if I thrice should wave the flag,

And thrice should get my heart's desire,

Next day might come a sorer need,

When it were ashes in the fire."

Macleod kept well his word: he fought

For life on many a bloody plain;

He tossed in peril on the sea,

Nor waved the fairy flag again.

The hand that waved the fairy flag,

The lips the fairy kissed, are still:

Macleod low in the churchyard lies,

And deaf to lilting sweet and shrill.

But still his kin in misty Skye

The fairy flag in keeping hold;

And sometime from the castle wall

May flash its spots and bars of gold.

But dire indeed shall be the need,

And every other hope be slain,

Before a Macleod of the Isle

Shall wave the fairy flag again.


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