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74

THE FAIRY FOSTER-MOTHER.

In Irish fairy-lore the fairies will often steal a mortal woman to nurse their children, as is told here.

Go not into the meadow, Ailie,
Under the June moon!
Fairies in the shadow, Ailie,
Croon a sad tune,
And their great King is sad, Ailie,
With his head into his hands,
For his delicate little lad, Ailie,
Far off in fairy lands.
He thinks on his dead wife, Ailie,
And heaves many a sigh.
She gave her babe her life, Ailie,
And never said good-bye.
And the little son like silk, Ailie,
Is dwindling every day
For mother's love and milk, Ailie,
Ailie, come away!
75

Run home, Ailie asthore,
To your own little one!
Your husband stands at the door,
And shades his eyes from the sun,
And calls you home from the cows
Ailie, his pride and joy,
Star of the home and house,
To the fine husband and boy!
Her smile was strange and still,
She held her eyelids down;
She went by the ruined mill
By the ragweed yellow and brown,
Into the field forlorn,
With fairy rings on the ground;
In the gloom of the fairy thorn
Were fairies circling around.
She is gone on the fairies' horse
The ragweed, yellow and sly,
She will be a fairy's nurse
And wipe the tear from his eye;
And her own wee troublesome lad
May pine, and she will not come:
Her husband be crazed and sad,
But she will never come home.
76

Never, never again, Ailie,
Though long we look for you,
Never in sun or rain, Ailie,
Never in dusk or dew.
With your night-black hair like silk, Ailie,
And your eyes like the sky,
And your skin as white as milk, Ailie
Ailie Carroll, good-bye!
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