Part 4 (1/2)

THE CHANGELING.

By night they came and from my bed They stole my babe, and left behind A thing I hate, a thing I dread-- A changeling who is old and blind; He's moaning all the night and day For those who took my babe away.

My little babe was sweet and fair, He crooned to sleep upon my breast-- But O the burden I must bear!

This drinks all day and will not rest-- My little babe had hair so light-- And his is growing dark as night.

Yon evil day when I would leave My little babe the stook behind!-- The fairies coming home at eve Upon an eddy of the wind, Would cast their eyes with envy deep Upon my heart's-love in his sleep.

What holy woman will ye find To weave a spell and work a charm?

A holy woman, pure and kind, Who'll keep my little babe from harm-- Who'll make the evil changeling flee, And bring my sweet one back to me?

MY FAIRY LOVER.

My fairy lover, my fairy lover, My fair, my rare one, come back to me-- All night I'm sighing, for thee I'm crying, I would be dying, my love, for thee.

Thine eyes were glowing like blue-bells blowing, With dew-drops twinkling their silvery fires; Thine heart was panting with love enchanting, For mine was granting its fond desires.

My fairy lover, my fairy lover, My fair, my rare one, come back to me-- All night I'm sighing, for thee I'm crying, I would be dying, my love, for thee.

Thy brow had brightness and lily-whiteness, Thy cheeks were clear as yon crimson sea; Like broom-buds gleaming, thy locks were streaming, As I lay dreaming, my love, of thee.

My fairy lover, my fairy lover, My fair, my rare one, come back to me-- All night I'm sighing, for thee I'm crying, I would be dying, my love, for thee.

Thy lips that often with love would soften, They beamed like blooms for the honey-bee; Thy voice came ringing like some bird singing When thou wert bringing thy gifts to me.

My fairy lover, my fairy lover, My fair, my rare one, come back to me-- All night I'm sighing, for thee I'm crying, I would be dying, my love, for thee.

O thou'rt forgetting the hours we met in The Vale of Tears at the even-tide, Or thou'd come near me to love and cheer me, And whisper clearly, ”O be my bride!”

My fairy lover, my fairy lover, My fair, my rare one, come back to me-- All night I'm sighing, for thee I'm crying, I would be dying, my love, for thee.

What spell can bind thee? I search to find thee Around the knoll that thy home would be-- Where thou did'st hover, my fairy lover, The clods will cover and comfort me.

My fairy lover, my fairy lover, My fair, my rare one, come back to me-- All night I'm sighing, on thee I'm crying, I would be dying, my love, for thee.

THE FIANS OF KNOCKFARREL.

(A Ross-s.h.i.+re Legend.)

I.

On steep Knockfarrel had the Fians made, For safe retreat, a high and strong stockade Around their dwellings. And when winter fell And o'er Strathpeffer laid its barren spell-- When days were bleak with storm, and nights were drear And dark and lonesome, well they loved to hear The songs of Ossian, peerless and sublime-- Their blind, grey bard, grown old before his time, Lamenting for his son--the young, the brave Oscar, who fell beside the western wave In Gavra's b.l.o.o.d.y and unequal fight.

Round Ossian would they gather in the night, Beseeching him for song ... And when he took His clarsach, from the magic strings he shook A maze of trembling music, falling sweet As mossy waters in the summer heat; And soft as fainting moor-winds when they leave The fume of myrtle, on a dewy eve, Bound flush'd and teeming tarns that all night hear Low elfin pipings in the woodlands near.