THE DEAD FAY

At matins and evensong Pray ye for a faery soul! If the day be long With grief and dole May your hearts be strong; Pray ye deep and well, Yea, pray deep, For low in the dell Doth a dead fay sleep. Light and shimmering dance; Light danced he on moor and lea! O’er the river’s glance, And the green sea: And now lies still By the bitter cress and brier, By the slow and shallow rill, That from out the thymy hill Flows, from elfin forge and fire; Pray aloud, and say, “Farewell, O thou dancing fay!” Canst thou, priest, for wandering sprite Say a mass? He dwelt not in house at night, But, in light Eager mazes swiftly going, Danced on mountain and morass; Give him, father, of thy prayer, For he was most brightly fair: Yet, priest, if thou will not pray, Thou’lt not compass his undoing. At matins and evensong, With mass and requiem Say, “For soul of errant fay, For a leaf plucked from the stem, For a spirit bright as day Do we pray”: And the brier and bitter cress By his side Both put on a sober dress; In the tide Of the slow and shallow rill Every herb his tears doth spill: Every herb that decks the dell Scattereth all his gems, and saith, “Weep we for a faery’s death! Fay, farewell!”