PART ONE FAIRY-LORE AND ELFIN LEGENDS (continued 3)
Reading edition
AWAY! AWAY! TO FAIRYLAND
But we that live in Fairyland No sickness know, nor pain; I quit my body when I will, And take to it again. Our shapes and size we can convert To either large or small, An old nut-shell’s the same to us As is the lofty hall. We sleep in rose-buds soft and sweet, We revel in the stream, We wanton lightly on the wind, Or glide on a sunbeam. Old Ballad
THE MAGIC FERNS
From Cornwall
Not many years since there lived in Cornwall a pretty young girl named Cherry. As she and her mother were poor, Cherry determined to go out to service. So one morning early, she took her little bundle of clothes, and started out to find a place with some respectable family. She walked until she came to four cross-roads, and, not knowing which to follow, she sat down on a boulder to think.
The spot where she sat was covered with beautiful ferns that curled their delicate fronds over the boulder. And while she was lost in thought, she unconsciously picked a few fronds and crushed them in her hand.
Immediately she heard a strange voice at her elbow say:—
“My pretty young woman, what are you looking for?”
She glanced up, and saw standing near her a handsome young man, who was holding a bunch of the ferns.
“I am looking for a place, sir,” said she.
“And what kind of a place do you wish?” asked he, with a sweet and winning smile.
“I am not particular,” answered she. “I can make myself generally useful.”
“Indeed!” said the stranger. “And do you think you could look after one little boy?”
“That I’d love to do!” said she, smiling.
“Then,” replied he, “I wish to hire you for a year and a day. My home is not far from here. Will you go with me, Cherry, and see it?”
Cherry stared in astonishment to hear him speak her name; and he added:—
“Oh! I see you thought that I did not know you! I watched you one day while you were dressing your hair beside one of my ponds; and I saw you pluck some of my sweetest-scented violets to put in those lovely tresses! But will you go with me, Cherry?”
“For a year and a day?” asked she.
“You need not be alarmed,” said he very kindly. “Just kiss the fern leaf that is in your hand, and say:—
‘For a year and a day I promise to stay!’”
“Is that all!” said Cherry. So she kissed the fern leaf, and said the words as he told her to.
Instantly the young man passed the bunch of ferns that he held over both her eyes. The ground in front of her seemed to open; and, though she did not feel herself move from the boulder where she sat, yet she knew that she was going down rapidly into the earth.
“Here we are, Cherry,” said the young man. “Is there a tear of sorrow under your eyelid? If so, let me wipe it away, for no human tear can enter our dwelling.”
And as he spoke he brushed Cherry’s eyes with the fern leaves. And, lo! before her was such a country as she had never dreamed of!
Hills and valleys were covered with flowers strangely brilliant, so that the whole country appeared to be sown with gems that glittered in a light as clear as that of the Summer sun, yet as mild as moonshine. There were glimmering rivers, and singing waterfalls, and sparkling fountains; while everywhere beautiful little ladies and gentlemen, dressed in green and gold, were walking, or sitting on banks of flowers. Oh! it was a wonderful world!
“Here we are at home!” said the young man—and strangely enough he was changed! He had become the handsomest little man Cherry had ever seen, and he wore a green silk coat covered with spangles of gold.
He led her into a noble mansion, the furniture of which was of ivory and pearl, inlaid with gold and silver and studded with emeralds. After passing through many rooms they came to one whose walls were hung with lace as fine as the finest cobwebs, and most beautifully twined with flowers. In the middle of the room was a cradle of wrought sea-shell, reflecting so many colours that Cherry could scarcely bear to look at it. The little man led her to this, and in it was lying asleep a little boy so beautiful that he ravished the sight.
“This is your charge,” said the little man. “I am King of this country, and I wish my son to know something of human nature. You have nothing to do but to wash and dress the boy when he wakes, to take him walking in the garden, to tell him stories, and to put him to sleep when he is weary.”
Cherry was delighted beyond words, for at first sight she loved the darling little boy. And when he woke, he seemed to love her just as dearly. She was very happy, and cared tenderly for him; and the time passed away with astonishing rapidity. In fact it seemed scarcely a week later, when she opened her eyes and found everything about her changed. Indeed, there she was lying in her own bed in her mother’s cottage!
She heard her mother calling her name with joy; and the neighbours came crowding around her bed. It was just one year and a day from the time when she had sat on the boulder, and had met the fine young man. She told her adventures to all, but they would not believe her. They shook their heads and went away, saying: “Poor Cherry is certainly mad!”
From that day on, she was never happy, but sat pining, and dreaming of the hour when she had picked the magic ferns. And though she often went back to the boulder, she never again saw the young man, nor found the way to Fairyland.
THE SMITH AND THE FAIRIES
From Scotland
Years ago there lived in Scotland an honest, hard-working smith. He had only one child, a boy, fourteen years of age, cheerful, strong, and healthy.
Suddenly the boy fell ill. He took to his bed, and moped away whole days. No one could tell what was the matter with him. Although he had a tremendous appetite, he wasted away, getting thin, yellow, and old.
At last one morning, while the smith was standing idly at his forge, with no heart for work, he was surprised to see a Wise-man, who lived at some distance, enter his shop. The smith hastened to tell him about his son, and to ask his advice.
The Wise-man listened gravely, then said: “The boy has been carried away by the Little People, and they have left a Changeling in his place.”
“Alas! And what am I to do?” asked the smith. “How am I ever to see my own son again?”
“I will tell you how,” answered the Wise-man. “But first, to make sure that it is not your own son you have, gather together all the egg-shells you can get. Go into the room where the boy is, and spread them out carefully before him. Then pour water in them, and carry them carefully in your hands, two by two. Carry them as though they were very heavy, and arrange them around the fireplace.”
The smith, accordingly, collected as many egg-shells as he could find. He went into the room, and did as the Wise-man had said.
He had not been long at work, before there came from the bed where the boy lay, a great shout of laughter, and the boy cried out:—
“I am now eight hundred years old, and I have never seen the like of that before!”
The smith hurried back, and told this to the Wise-man.
“Did I not assure you,” said the Wise-man, “that it is not your son whom you have? Your son is in a Fairy Mound not far from here. Get rid as soon as possible of this Changeling, and I think I may promise you your son again.
“You must light a very great and bright fire before the bed on which this stranger is lying. He will ask you why you are doing so. Answer him at once: ‘You shall see presently when I lay you upon it.’ If you do this, the Changeling will become frightened and fly through the roof.”
The smith again followed the Wise-man’s advice; kindled a blazing fire, and answered as he had been told to do. And, just as he was going to seize the Changeling and fling him on the fire, the thing gave an awful yell, and sprang through the roof.
The smith, overjoyed, returned to the Wise-man, and told this to him.
“On Midsummer Night,” said the Wise-man, “the Fairy Mound, where your boy is kept, will open. You must provide yourself with a dirk and a crowing cock. Go to the Mound. You will hear singing and dancing and much merriment going on. At twelve o’clock a door in the Mound will open. Advance boldly. Enter this door, but first stick the dirk in the ground before it, to prevent the Mound from closing. You will find yourself in a spacious apartment, beautifully clean; and there working at a forge, you will see your son. The Fairies will then question you, and you must answer that you have come for your son, and will not go without him. Do this, and see what happens!”
Midsummer Night came, and the smith provided himself with a dirk and a crowing cock. He went to the Fairy Mound, and all happened as the Wise-man had said.
The Fairies came crowding around him, buzzing and pinching his legs; and when he said that he had come for his son, and would not go away without him, they all gave a loud laugh. At the same minute the cock, that was dozing in the smith’s arms, woke up. It leaped to his shoulder, and, clapping its wings, crowed loud and long.
At that the Fairies were furious. They seized the smith and his son and threw them out of the Mound, and pulled up the dirk and flung it after them. And in an instant all was dark.
For a year and a day the boy never spoke, nor would he do a turn of work. At last one morning as he was watching his father finish a sword, he exclaimed:—
“That’s not the way to do it!”
And taking the tools from his father’s hands, he set to work, and soon fashioned a glittering sharp sword, the like of which had never been seen before.
From that day on, the boy helped his father, and showed him how to make Fairy swords, and in a few years they both became rich and famous. And they always lived together contentedly and happily.
THE COAL-BLACK STEED
From England
Late one night—a bright, quiet, moonlit night—old Dame Moll lay snugly sleeping in her bed, when suddenly she was wakened by a noise like a rushing storm. The next minute there came a loud rap! rap! rap! at her cottage door.
Startled and frightened she sprang out of bed, and opened the door on a crack.
“Don’t be afraid, good woman,” said a squeaky voice. “Open wide! Open wide!”
So she opened a bit wider, and saw a strange, squint-eyed, ugly little fellow standing on the door-stone. Somehow the look in his eyes seemed to cast a spell over her, and made her, willy-nilly, open the door very wide.
“My wife has sent for you, good woman,” said he. “You must come with me and bathe and dress our new-born child.”
“Your wife!” thought the poor Dame. “Heaven defend me! Sure as I live I am going to care for a little Imp!”
But she could not refuse to go, for the spell in the little man’s eyes drew her, and she was forced to walk toward a coal-black steed that stood snorting before the door. Its eyes were red-hot balls, and its breath was like smoke.
And how Dame Moll got to the place she never could tell. But suddenly she found herself set down by a neat but poor cottage, and saw two tidy children playing before the door. In a minute she was seated in front of a roaring hearth-fire, washing and dressing a small baby. But a very active and naughty baby it was, though only an hour old; for it lifted its fist and gave the good Dame such a rousing box on her ear, that it made her head ring.
“Anoint its eyes with this salve, my good woman,” said the mother, who was lying in a neat white bed.
So Dame Moll took the box of salve, and rubbed a bit on the child’s eyes.
“Why not a drop on mine,” thought she, “since it must be Elfin ointment.” So she rubbed her finger over her right eye.
O ye powers of Fairyland! What did she see!
The neat but homely cottage had become a great and beautiful room. The mother, dressed in white silk, lay in an ivory bed. The babe was robed in silvery gauze. The two older children, who had just come into the cottage, were seated one on either side of the mother’s pillow. But they, too, were changed! For now they were little flat-nosed Imps who, with mops and mows, and with many a grin and grimace, were pulling the mother’s ears with their long, hairy paws.
When Dame Moll saw this, she knew that she was in a place of enchantment, and without saying a word about having anointed her own eye, she made haste to finish dressing the Elfin babe.
Then the squint-eyed little old fellow once more placed her behind him on the coal-black steed, and away they went sailing through the air. And he set her down safely before her door.
On the next market-day, when Dame Moll was selling eggs, what did she see but the little old fellow himself busied, like a rogue, stealing some things from the market-stalls.
“Oh! Ho!” cried she; “I’ve caught you, you thief!”
“What!” exclaimed he. “Do you see me to-day?”
“See you! To be sure I do!—as plain as the sun in the sky! And I see you very busy stealing, into the bargain!”
“With which eye do you see me?” said he.
“With my right eye, to be sure,” answered Dame Moll.
“The ointment! The ointment!” exclaimed the little man. “Take that for meddling with what did not belong to you!”
And he struck her in the eye as he spoke. And from that day to this old Dame Moll has been blind in the right eye. And surely it served her right for stealing the Fairy ointment.
THE GIRL WHO WAS STOLEN BY THE FAIRIES
From Ireland
Never go near an Elfin Mound on May Day. For in the month of May the Fairies are very powerful, and they wander about the meadows looking for pretty maidens to carry off to Fairyland.
One beautiful May Day in old Ireland, a young girl fell asleep at noonday on an Elfin Mound. The Fairies saw how pretty she was, so they carried her off to Fairyland, and left in her stead an image that looked exactly like her.
Evening fell, and as the girl did not return home, her mother sent the neighbours to look for her in all directions. They found the image, and, thinking that it was the girl herself, they carried it home, and laid it in her bed. But the image neither moved nor spoke, and lay there silently for two days.
On the morning of the third day an old Witch-woman entered the house, and looking at the image, said:—
“Your daughter is Fairy-struck. Rub this ointment on her forehead, and see what you shall see!”
Then the old woman placed a vial of green ointment in the mother’s hand, and disappeared.
The mother immediately rubbed the forehead of the image, and the girl herself sat up in bed, weeping and wringing her hands.
“Oh, mother!” she cried. “Oh, why did you bring me back! I was so happy! I was in a beautiful palace where handsome Princesses and Princes were dancing to the sweetest music. They made me dance with them, and threw a mantle of rich gold over my shoulders. Now it is all gone, and I shall never see the beautiful palace any more!”
Then the mother wept, and said: “Oh, my child, stay with me! I have no other daughter but you! And if the Fairies take you, I shall die!”
The girl wept loudly at this, and throwing her arms around her mother’s neck, kissed her, and promised that she would not go near the Elfin Mound. And she kept her word, so she never saw the Fairies again.
THE GIRL WHO DANCED WITH THE FAIRIES
From Ireland
One must never wander about alone on Hallowe’en, for then the Fairies are abroad looking for mortals to trick and lead astray.
Now, there was once a girl, the prettiest girl in all Ireland, who late one Hallowe’en was going to a spring to fetch some water. Her foot slipped, and she fell. When she got up, she looked about her, and saw that she was in a very strange place. A great fire was burning near, around which a number of people, beautifully dressed, were dancing.
A handsome young man, like a Prince, with a red sash, and a golden band in his hair, left the fire, and came toward her. He greeted her kindly, and asked her to dance.
“It is a foolish thing, sir, to ask me to dance,” replied she, “since there is no music.”
At that the young man lifted his hand, and instantly the most delicious music sounded. Then he took her by the fingers and drew her into the dance. Around and around they whirled, and they danced and danced until the moon and stars went down. And all the time, the girl seemed to float in the air, and she forgot everything except the sweet music and the young man.
At last the dancing ceased, and a door opened in the earth. The young man, who seemed to be the King of all, led the girl down a pair of stairs, followed by all the gay company. At the end of a long passage they came to a hall bright and beautiful with gold and silver and lights. A table was covered with every good thing to eat, and wine was poured out in golden cups.
The young man lifted a cup, and offered it to the girl; at the same moment some one whispered in her ear:—
“Do not drink! Do not eat! If you do either, you will never see your home again!”
Well, the girl, when she heard that, set the cup down and refused to drink. Immediately all the company grew angry. A great buzzing arose. The lights went out. And the girl felt something grasp her, and rush her forth from the hall and up the stairs; and in a minute she found herself beside the spring holding her pitcher in her hand.
She did not wait for anything, but ran home as fast as she could, and locked herself in tight, and crept into bed. Then she heard a great clamour of little voices outside her door, and she could hear them cry:—
“The power we had over you to-night is gone, because you refused to drink! But wait until next Hallowe’en Night, when you dance with us on the hill! Then we shall keep you forever!—forever!”
ELIDORE AND THE GOLDEN BALL
From Wales
Once upon a time, in the land of Wales, near the fall of the Tawe into the sea, there lived a boy called Elidore. He was a bright lad, but so fond of play that he would not study at all. His teacher flogged him so often and so hard that one morning Elidore ran away from home, and hid under a hollow bank by the side of the river.
There he stayed two nights and two days, getting hungrier and thirstier every moment. At last, when it seemed as if he could stand his sufferings no longer, he saw a little door open in the side of the bank and two Elfin Men step out. They stood before him, and, bowing low, said:—
“Come with us, dear boy, and we will lead you to a land full of delights and sports, where you may play all the time.”
Elidore was overjoyed. He rose and followed the Elfin Men through the door. They conducted him down a long, dark passage through the hill. At length they came out into a beautiful country adorned with singing crystal streams and flowery meadows. But it was always twilight there, for the light of the sun, moon, and stars could not reach that land.
The Elfin Men led Elidore to a golden palace, and presented him to the King of the Elves, who was seated upon his throne and was surrounded by a train of little people richly clad. The King questioned Elidore kindly, then, calling his eldest son, the Elfin Prince, bade him take the earth-boy and make him happy.
So Elidore dwelt in Elfinland, and day after day was fed with milk and saffron; and he played with the Elfin Prince, tossing gold and silver balls. When he walked in the meadows to pick flowers, he saw everywhere about him the Elfin people, with long, flowing yellow hair, riding on little horses and chasing tiny deer with Fairy hounds. For all the people in Elfinland played and rode about night and day, and they never worked. Sometimes on moonlit nights they rode through the dark passage to the upper world, and danced in Fairy Rings on the grass. And when they went to their dances, they took Elidore with them.
After Elidore had lived in Elfinland for some time, the King permitted him one moonlit night to go alone through the dark passage to visit his mother. He did so, and she was delighted to see him, for she had thought him dead. He told her about the wonders of Elfinland, and how he was fed on milk and saffron, and played with gold and silver toys. She begged him, the next time he came, to bring her a bit of Fairy Gold. He promised to do so, and returned to Elfinland.
It so happened, one day soon after this, that Elidore was playing with the Elfin Prince. He snatched a beautiful golden ball from the Prince’s hands, and hastened with it through the dark passage. As he ran he heard behind him the shouts of many angry Elves and the sound of their horses’ hoofs, and the barking of the Fairy dogs; and knew that he was being pursued.
Faster he ran in terror, but nearer came the patter of a thousand little feet, and the Elfin shouts. Still more terrified, he rushed through the door in the hill and sped homeward. As he sprang into his mother’s house his foot caught, and he fell over the threshold. At the same moment two Elves, who had outrun the others, leaped over him and snatched the golden ball from his hands.
“Thief!” “Robber!” “Thief!” they screamed, and vanished.
As for Elidore, he rose up too ashamed to eat or sleep that night. The next day he went to the river bank and searched for the door, but could find no trace of it. And though he searched every day for a year, he never again found the entrance to Elfinland.
But from that time he was a changed boy. He studied hard, loved truth, and hated lying and stealing. And, when he grew up, he became a great man in Wales.
AT THE COURT OF FAIRYLAND
I QUEEN MAB
This is Mab, the mistress Fairy, That doth nightly rob the dairy, And can hurt or help the churning (As she please) without discerning. She that pinches country wenches, If they rub not clean their benches, And with sharper nails remembers When they rake not up their embers. But, if so they chance to feast her, In a shoe she drops a tester. Ben Jonson
II QUEEN MAB’S CHARIOT
Her chariot ready straight is made; Each thing therein is fitting laid, That she by nothing might be stayed, For nought must be her letting: Four nimble gnats the horses were, Their harnesses of gossamer, Fly Cranion, her charioteer, Upon the coach-box getting. Her chariot of a snail’s fine shell, Which for the colours did excel; The fair Queen Mab becoming well, So lively was the limning: The seat, the soft wool of the bee, The cover (gallantly to see) The wing of a pied butterflee; I trow ’twas simple trimming. The wheels composed of crickets’ bones, And daintily made for the nonce; For fear of rattling on the stones, With thistle-down they shod it: For all her maidens much did fear, If Oberon had chanced to hear, That Mab his Queen should have been there, He would not have abade it. She mounts her chariot with a trice, Nor would she stay for no advice, Until her maids that were so nice, To wait on her were fitted, But ran herself away alone; Which when they heard, there was not one, But hasted after to be gone, As she had been diswitted. Michael Drayton
III MAB’S ELFIN MAIDS OF HONOUR
Hop, and Mop, and Drop so clear, Pip, and Trip, and Skip, that were To Mab their sovereign ever dear, Her special maids of honour. Fib, and Tib, and Pinck, and Pin, Tick, and Quick, and Jil, and Jin, Tit, and Nit, and Wap, and Win, The train that wait upon her. Upon a grasshopper they got, And, what with amble and with trot, For hedge nor ditch they spared not, But after her they hie them. A cobweb over them they throw, To shield the wind, if it should blow, Themselves they wisely could bestow, Lest any should espy them. Michael Drayton
IV KING OBERON’S PALACE
This palace standeth in the air, By necromancy placed there, That it no tempests needs to fear, Which way so e’er it blow it: And somewhat southward toward the noon Whence lies a way up to the Moon, And thence the Fairy can as soon Pass to the earth below it. The walls of spiders’ legs are made, Well morticed and finely laid; He was the master of his trade, It curiously that builded. The windows of the eyes of cats, And for the roof, instead of slats, Is covered with the skins of bats, With moonshine that are gilded. Michael Drayton
V THE FAIRIES’ UMBRELLA
I spied King Oberon and his beauteous Queen Attended by a nimble-footed train Of Fairies tripping o’er the meadow’s green, And to mewards (methought) they came amain. I couched myself behind a bush to spy, What would betide the noble company. It ’gan to rain, the King and Queen they run Under a mushroom, fretted overhead, With glow-worms artificially done, Resembling much the canopy of a bed Of cloth of silver: and such glimmering light It gave, as stars do in a frosty night. Old Poem
VI A FAIRY’S ARMOUR
He put his acorn helmet on; It was plumed of the silk of the thistle down; The corslet-plate that guarded his breast Was once the wild bee’s golden vest; His cloak, of a thousand mingled dyes, Was formed of the wings of butterflies; His shield was the shell of a lady-bug queen, Studs of gold on a ground of green; And the quivering lance which he brandished bright, Was the sting of a wasp he had slain in fight. Swift he bestrode his fire-fly steed; He bared his blade of the bent-grass blue; He drove his spurs of the cockle-seed, And away like a glance of thought he flew, To skim the heavens, and follow far The fiery trail of the rocket-star. Joseph Rodman Drake
VII FAIRY REVELS
Come, follow, follow me, You Fairy Elves that be, Which circle on the green, Come, follow Mab your Queen. Hand in hand let’s dance around, For this place is Fairy ground. When mortals are at rest And snoring in their nest, Unheard and unespied, Through keyholes we do glide; Over tables, stools, and shelves, We trip it with our Fairy Elves. And if the house be foul With platter, dish, or bowl, Upstairs we nimbly creep, And find the maids asleep: There we pinch their arms and thighs; None escapes, nor none espies. But if the house be swept And from uncleanness kept, We praise the household maid, And duly she is paid; For we use before we go To drop a tester in her shoe. Upon a mushroom’s head Our table-cloth we spread; A grain of rye or wheat Is manchet which we eat; Pearly drops of dew we drink In acorn cups filled to the brink. The brains of nightingales, With unctuous fat of snails, Between two cockles stewed, Is meat that’s easily chewed; Tails of worms and marrow of mice Do make a dish that’s wondrous nice. The grasshopper, gnat, and fly Serve for our minstrelsy; Grace said, we dance awhile, And so the time beguile: And if the moon doth hide her head, The glow-worm lights us home to bed. On tops of dewy grass So nimbly do we pass, The young and tender stalk Ne’er bends when we do walk; Yet in the morning may be seen Where we the night before have been. Old Ballad
VIII FAIRY SONGS
Where the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip’s bell I lie; There I couch, when owls do cry: On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough! Shakespeare
From Oberon in Fairyland, The King of ghosts and shadows there, Mad Robin, I, at his command, Am sent to view the night-sports here. What revel rout Is kept about, In every corner where I go, I will o’ersee, and merry be, And make good sport, with ho! ho! ho! More swift than lightning can I fly About this airy welkin soon, And in a minute’s space descry Each thing that’s done below the moon. There’s not a hag Or ghost shall wag, Or cry, ware Goblins! where I go; But Robin, I, their feats will spy, And send them home with ho! ho! ho! By wells and rills, in meadows green, We nightly dance our hey-day guise, And to our Fairy King and Queen We chant our moonlight minstrelsies. When larks ’gin sing, Away we fling, And babes new-born steal as we go, And Elf in bed we leave instead, And wend us laughing, ho! ho! ho! Old Ballad (Condensed)