Irish Songs and Poems By William Allingham: Second Edition: With Nine Airs for Voice and Pianoforte, and a Permanent Photograph of the Waterfall of Asaroe |
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| FAIRY HILL,
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 | Irish Songs and Poems |  |
118
FAIRY HILL,
OR, THE POET'S WEDDING.
I.
The Moon was bright, the Sea was still,The Fairies danced on Fairy Hill;
The Town lay sleeping far below;
Ghosts went round it, sad and slow,
Loth to leave their earthly place
For the Wilderness of Space.
The watch-dogs saw the Ghosts and howl'd,
The Fairies saw the Ghosts, and cowl'd
Their little heads and whirl'd away;
No friendship between Ghost and Fay.
Fairies lightly love Mankind,
To mischief or to mirth inclined,
They fear the Dead, by night or day.
II.
A Boy within that Town did dwellLoved by the Fairy People well,
For he was more delightful far
Than rosebuds or the evening star,
And by his cradle soft they crept
To kiss the Baby while he slept,
Curtain'd him round with shades and gleams,
And gave him music in his dreams
Excelling mortal. When the Child
Grew older, then in flowers they smiled,
Or shining clouds, or sparkling streams,
Or forest shadows, whispering low
Magic secrets few men know.
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Whose day on earth will soon be done,
We read it in his lustrous eyes;
Make him happy ere he dies,
Show him things, by moon and sun.’
III.
Another year, another night,(But Time, they never mark its flight)
Round about the Waterfall
The Fairies sit on rocks, and all
Sing to the pouring water's tune
And watch the setting yellow Moon.
But all together shout for joy,
See, O see! their lovely Boy
Floating swiftly down the stream;
His eyes are shut, his Boat's a Dream.
It shoots the rapids, doth not swerve
Gliding on the glassy curve
Over the thundering Fall,—away!
It rises on the rising spray,
It spreads two waving wings, it mounts
Into the morning's golden founts.
‘This Dream is ours,’ the Fairies said,
‘The Boy lies sleeping in his bed.
‘Fine Boat afloat on stream!’ they sung,
‘Fine Dream!’ they sung, till skylark rung
A matin-bell from tower of cloud,
And, silent, through his gates of gold
The Day-King's flashing chariot roll'd,—
Then vanish'd all the Fairy crowd.
Many a Dream they made for him,
Of Caves and Waves, and Moonshine dim,
Subtle thoughts and wondrous stories,
Glancing joys and coming glories,
Wild poetic Dreams of youth,
Truer far than daylight truth.
120
IV.
Another night, another year,
(We reckon Time in mortal sphere)
The Fairies danced on Fairy Hill,
Careless lovers, merry still,
Never half a day forlorn,
Tho' at times they wail and mourn.
And he, the Boy, for all their bode,
Lived, not died; the sea-wind flow'd
Into his veins; a Poet Boy,
Who loved his world and sung for joy,
In glens and woodlands wandering lone,
Where at times from twig and stone
The Fairies peep'd at him, and oft
Elfin music trembled soft,
Airy whispers, whereunto
Danced his fancies, verses flew
Rhyming to the music's chime,
Whilst a human heart kept time
With its own pathetic measure
In the midst of all the pleasure.
How his songs came, none could tell;
Simple people loved them well.
(We reckon Time in mortal sphere)
The Fairies danced on Fairy Hill,
Careless lovers, merry still,
Never half a day forlorn,
Tho' at times they wail and mourn.
And he, the Boy, for all their bode,
Lived, not died; the sea-wind flow'd
Into his veins; a Poet Boy,
Who loved his world and sung for joy,
In glens and woodlands wandering lone,
Where at times from twig and stone
The Fairies peep'd at him, and oft
Elfin music trembled soft,
Airy whispers, whereunto
Danced his fancies, verses flew
Rhyming to the music's chime,
Whilst a human heart kept time
With its own pathetic measure
In the midst of all the pleasure.
How his songs came, none could tell;
Simple people loved them well.
But on a blue midsummer day,
Suddenly, a peeping Fay
Saw within the Poet's eyes
Something new! What wondrous prize,
What rich marvel hath he found
In the heavens or underground?
Yea, Fay! in his breast
A secret lies worth all the rest;
Nor have your people taught him this,
One day he learnt it in a kiss.
Greet her, Fairies, for your part!
The Girl is worth a Poet's heart,
She is gracious, she is true,
She hath eyes of deeper blue
Than hyacinths in woodland shade,
She's a mild, a mirthful maid.
The Wedding-Day is coming soon,
And O, that night, the festival
For Fairy People one and all
On Fairy Hill below the Moon,
Between the Sea and Waterfall!
Suddenly, a peeping Fay
Saw within the Poet's eyes
Something new! What wondrous prize,
What rich marvel hath he found
In the heavens or underground?
Yea, Fay! in his breast
A secret lies worth all the rest;
Nor have your people taught him this,
One day he learnt it in a kiss.
Greet her, Fairies, for your part!
The Girl is worth a Poet's heart,
She is gracious, she is true,
She hath eyes of deeper blue
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She's a mild, a mirthful maid.
The Wedding-Day is coming soon,
And O, that night, the festival
For Fairy People one and all
On Fairy Hill below the Moon,
Between the Sea and Waterfall!
V.
Fled from Britain's, Alba's, coast,
Erin holds the Fairy Host.
Unless what some report be truth
That further, flock by flock they flee
To Tir-na-n'Oge, the Land of Youth,
Amid its undiscover'd sea,
The Blissful Island, out of ken
Of sad or angry eyes of men.
Yet awhile, O Gentle Race,
Linger in your ancient place,
Take not from us (poor are we)
Like autumn leaves or sunset clouds
Our elfin gold of phantasie!
Erin holds the Fairy Host.
Unless what some report be truth
That further, flock by flock they flee
To Tir-na-n'Oge, the Land of Youth,
Amid its undiscover'd sea,
The Blissful Island, out of ken
Of sad or angry eyes of men.
Yet awhile, O Gentle Race,
Linger in your ancient place,
Take not from us (poor are we)
Like autumn leaves or sunset clouds
Our elfin gold of phantasie!
As yet they are not gone. In crowds
They troop to Fairy Hill to-night,
The Wedding Night,—Elf and Sprite,
Merrows from their swaying Deep,
Dwarfs that out of crannies creep,
Cunning Lepracauns a few,
Countless Fays, the tricksy crew,
White Witches, none of bale,
Nor the bodeful Banshee's wail,
Nor the Pooka, from his cave
Galloping over land and wave
Like a storm at black midnight,
His flaming eyes the only light.
No, no, these away!
Hither, every friendly Fay!
From meadow-rings, from lakes and springs,
Craggy mountains, river fountains,
From the air, and from the fire,
Thronging in with one desire,
Those that haunt the kindly hearth,
And all that bring good luck and mirth.
They troop to Fairy Hill to-night,
The Wedding Night,—Elf and Sprite,
Merrows from their swaying Deep,
Dwarfs that out of crannies creep,
Cunning Lepracauns a few,
Countless Fays, the tricksy crew,
White Witches, none of bale,
Nor the bodeful Banshee's wail,
Nor the Pooka, from his cave
Galloping over land and wave
Like a storm at black midnight,
His flaming eyes the only light.
No, no, these away!
Hither, every friendly Fay!
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Craggy mountains, river fountains,
From the air, and from the fire,
Thronging in with one desire,
Those that haunt the kindly hearth,
And all that bring good luck and mirth.
Lo now, the Moon!—and who are seen
Flying hither? King and Queen!
They come, with growing music. Elves,
To your places, range yourselves!
The Full Moon shines, the Sea is still,
The Fairies dance on Fairy Hill,
Singing, weaving happy charms.
The Bride is in the Bridegroom's arms.
Flying hither? King and Queen!
They come, with growing music. Elves,
To your places, range yourselves!
The Full Moon shines, the Sea is still,
The Fairies dance on Fairy Hill,
Singing, weaving happy charms.
The Bride is in the Bridegroom's arms.
| Irish Songs and Poems | |