Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

“Why wed you not, baron,” once whispered a fairy,
“There's gold in your coffers, why wed you not now?”
“Not yet,” quoth the baron, “'tis best to be wary,
I might make a change for the worse, you'll allow.
My temper's a jealous one; beauty would keep
My mind in a frenzy. I'll look 'ere I leap.”

II

“Oh! give me a boon,” cried the baron, “pray give me,
A magical mirror of crystal and gold,
And in it if womankind e'er should deceive me,
The cause of her fickleness let me behold.”
“'Tis yours,” said the fairy; “whatever may be
The cause of your grief, there that cause you shall see.”

III

The Baron soon married, soon found out his error.
He sighed in his castle, a desolate place.
He eagerly sought in the magical mirror
The cause of the evil, and saw—his own face.
When age finds a blank in the lot that he draws,
He need raise no fairy to tell him the cause.

200

IS THE REIGN OF FANCY OVER?

I

Is the reign of fancy over
With her little fairy train?
Shall the night no more be peopled
With the visions of the brain?
When the moon is bright above us,
Shall we dare to venture forth,
As if there were no spirits
In the air and on the earth?
When we hear soft strains of music,
Shall we doubt that silver strings
Have been touch'd by sprites who revel
When the dew is on their wings?
When we see the mystic circle
On the meadow's green expanse,
Shall we doubt we see the footmarks
Of the elves' unearthly dance?

II

No; romance will lose her power,
And the muse forget her skill,
If we say those wild responses
Are mere echoes from the hill;
If we say no fairy revels
Leave their shadows on the heath,
We shall blight the sweetest blossoms
That 're bloomed in fancy's wreath.
Oh! we must not drive the fairies
From their summer haunts on earth;
Oh! we must not spurn the legends
Of their mischief and their mirth;
Oh! we must not rob the blue-bells
Of the beings who resort
To their silken cells for shelter,
Till Titania holds her court.

201

SWEET SISTER FAY.

I

“Oh! where have you been, sweet sister Fay?”
“I have slept in a lily-bell all the long day,
And many an insect came to look
For the honey that lay in the fragrant nook.
I was arm'd with a spear from the hawthorn spray,
And afraid of its point they all fluttered away;
So I sung my own lullaby, sleeping at ease,
In the bell of a lily that wav'd in the breeze.
The day is for labour, the night is for glee;
Come, brother, trip lightly with me.”
Come, sister, trip lightly with me.”

II

“Where are you going, sweet sister Fay?”
“To the turf that is greenest, I'm tripping away;
Hark! hark! the sweet music of midnight I hear;
The holly leaves rustle, we've startled a deer;
The rivulets gushing through coral caves,
At intervals drip in the dark blue waves;
I've jewell'd my hair, and I've spangled my wing,
For I am going to dance at the court of my king.
The day is for labour, the night is for glee;
Come, brother, trip lightly with me.”
Come, sister, trip lightly with me.”

ONCE A SILLY MAID.

I

Once a silly maid exclaimed,
“Children wail and fools grow pale,
Whene'er a fairy sprite is nam'd,
In song or gossip tale.

202

But I laugh at fairy-land,
On its limits let me stand,
I'll make fun of Oberon,
And break his pigmy wand.”

II

Cried a friend, “Thou'rt brave by day,
But at night perhaps I might
Chace thy unbelief away,
And scare thee with a sprite.
Wilt thou, when the clock strikes one,
Seek the fairy glen alone?”
“Yes; agreed, I'll do the deed,
And laugh when it is done.”

III

To the fairy glen she went,
Half afraid to turn her head.
Secretly she did repent
The bargain she had made.
Ev'ry leaf that chanc'd to stir
Seem'd to be a sprite to her,
Bat or owl, or the howl
Of the village cur.

IV

Home she hurried, half asham'd;
What occur'd was never heard,
But when fairy-land is nam'd,
She never says a word.
Some indeed presume to say,
She met a husband young and gay;
Not a sprite; yet her heart that night
Was spirited away.

203

THE INVISIBLE ELVES.

I

The wee Heinzelmanchens were elves of repute,
They watch'd o'er each housewife's domestic pursuit;
The ovens were heated, the chambers were swept
By her pigmy assistants, while soundly she slept;
The proof of their industry shone on her shelves,
Yet none had e'er seen these invisible elves.

II

Dame Bridget, whose spouse was a baker by trade,
Ow'd much to the sprite's supernatural aid.
But curious women, like children, will break
A toy to discover the trick of its make.
“No mortal has seen them,” said she to herself,
“What can they be made of? I must catch an Elf.”

III

All night she sat watching, but not a mouse stirr'd:
All night too she listen'd, but nothing was heard:
They never came near her; she weeps and she prays;
But she toils for herself all the rest of her days.
She paid for her peeping, a common mishap:
Curiosity caught in her own little trap.

YOUNG BRINCAN, BEWARE!

I

Beware of the fairy! young Brincan beware!
Thy cheeks are like roses, and bright is thy hair;
Thy beauty hath charm'd her, beware of her spell;
She is calling thee down to her bright coral cell.
Look not in the water, for danger is there.
Row homeward, row homeward! young Brincan, beware!

204

II

Her spell is upon him; like one who would leap
To the arms of a mistress, he dives in the deep;
Sweet harmonies hail him, he seems to repose
On an emerald pillow as downward he goes:
A fairy receives him—oh! what is so fair
As that beautiful being! Young Brincan beware!

III

Her hair is sea-green, but he heeds not its hue,
When he looks on her eyes of etherial blue.
He loves the fair sea-nymph, forgetting the worth
Of his own betroth'd maiden, the fairest on earth.
'Tis morn, and he leaves her, his boat is still there;
Row homeward, row homeward! Young Brincan, beware!

IV

The spell is dissolved; as he steps on the shore,
He seeks his betroth'd—but she loves him no more!
“Thy hair,” she exclaimed, “is as green as the sea,
And a web-footed man is no lover for me.”
'Tis thus with the fickle, who fond vows forswear,
For Fairy or Woman! so lovers beware!

THE NURSERY TALE.

I

Oh! did you not hear, in your nursery,
The tale that the gossips tell,
Of the two young girls who came to drink,
At a certain fairy well?
The words of the youngest were as sweet
As the smile on her ruby lip;
But the tongue of the eldest seemed to move
As if venom were on its tip!

205

II

At the well a beggar accosted them,
(A sprite in a mean disguise.)
The eldest spoke with a scornful brow,
The youngest with tearful eyes.
Cried the fairy, “Whenever you speak, sweet girl,
Pure gems from your lips shall fall;
But whenever you utter a word, proud maid,
From your tongue shall a serpent crawl.”

III

And have you not met these sisters oft,
In the haunts of the old and young,
The first with her pure and unsullied lip,
The last with her serpent tongue?
Yes! the first is Goodnature; diamonds bright
On the darkest theme she throws;
And the last is Slander, leaving the slime
Of the snake where'er she goes.

THE PERI AND THE PAGE.

I

A Peri, o'ercome by a Deev, was left
In a golden cage confin'd;
On the topmost branch of the loftiest tree,
It rock'd in the stormy wind.
A Page through the forest was prancing forth,
But he paus'd, when the Peri cried,
“Oh! give me liberty, gentle youth,
And I'll be thy lady bride.”

II

“Nay, I have a love of my own,” he said,
“A maiden of low degree;
I'll let thee loose; but, beauteous sprite,
Thou art not the bride for me.”

206

“I'll give thee the wealth of the world,” she cried.
“No, the wealth of the world were vain;
Yet tho' I can never be thine, fair sprite,
I will break thy golden chain.”

III

He climb'd the tree, and the Peri was free;
But ere she her thanks could speak,
With joyous speed, he mounted his steed,
The home of his love to seek.
“Oh! dearer to me is thy constancy,
Than thy love could have been,” she cried;
“I promise thee health, I promise thee wealth,
Then away to thy chosen bride.”

I'VE FAIRY GIFTS ROUND ME.

I

I've fairy gifts round me, to win back a lover,
Who flies from the fond one, still faithful to him.
I know I am chang'd, but these spells will recover
The heart that is sad and the eye that is dim.
Oh! if I was pale when he last looked upon me,
My tears in his absence had banished my bloom;
Yet would I had smil'd, for I fear he will shun me,
His gay spirit shrinks from reproaches and gloom.

II

But never again shall he see me dejected,
My grief when he frowns shall lie deep in my breast;
I'll bathe my hot brow with the dews I've collected
From rings on the meadows by fairy feet prest;

207

My hair I'll adorn with each delicate flower
That buds in the moonlight, for legends will prove
When man is inconstant, such wreaths have the power
To bring back the beauty that first won his love.

FAIRY FAVOURS.

I

I have dreamt of fairy favours,
Of the gold that lies conceal'd,
Where no outward mark betrays it
In the poor man's sterile field.
Is not Industry the fairy,
Who can call those favours forth,
And can raise a golden harvest
From the bosom of the earth?

II

I have dreamt of fairy favours,
Of the spell that will secure
True love thro' all its trials,
Still as holy and as pure:
Is not Constancy the fairy?
Is not Innocence her spell?
Yes, a paradise she raises,
Where true love delights to dwell.

III

I have dreamt of fairy favours,
Of a home of perfect bliss;
No monarch has a palace
Half so beautiful as this!
And is not Content the fairy
Who beholds the map unfurl'd;
And points to her own dwelling
As the best in all the world?

208

THE SPECTRE-LIKE TREE.

I

Under the spectre-like yew,
Spreading its boughs o'er the heath,
Sat the lone Banshee; I knew
Her wail was the herald of death!
'Twas not a summons for me—
When she wept under the spectre-like tree.

II

Wildly my lover I sought,
Scar'd by that desolate wail.
Smiling he came—yet I thought
Ne'er had I seen him so pale;
Oh! how it shock'd me to see,
Why she wept under the spectre-like tree!

III

Now he is laid on his bier,
Far from all sorrow and pain,
And it would please me to hear
The voice of the Banshee again.
Come with a summons to me,
Come to weep under the spectre-like tree!

IS NOT THIS A HAUNTED GROVE?

I.

“Is not this a haunted grove?
Are not fairies round me playing?
Hear a maid who seeks her love;
Tell me whither is he straying!”
“Is he straying!”

209

“Mock me not, but prythee tell,
Is there still some kindness in him?
Show me by some fairy spell,
How to woo him, how to win him!”
“How to win him!”

II.

“Tell me then the truth at once:
Tell me am I doom'd to doubt him;
Give, oh! give some kind response,
For I cannot live without him!”
“Live without him!”

Mary thus her lot bewails,
Still invokes some sylph or fairy.
Ye who laugh at fairy tales,
Much I fear you'll laugh at Mary.
Laugh at Mary.

III.

She had faith in pigmy sprites;
And when'er she miss'd her lover,
Sallied forth in moonlight nights,
Calling them to catch the rover.
Catch the rover.

At her elbow, he ere long,
Gently whispers something soothing;
Mary's sorrow, like my song,
Both begins and ends in nothing.
Ends in nothing.