Kitabı oxu: «Rhymes for the Young Folk»

THE FAIRIES

 
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl's feather!
 
 
Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain-lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs,
All night awake.
 
 
High on the hill-top
The old King sits;
He is now so old and gray
He's nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist
Columbkill he crosses,
On his stately journeys
From Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or going up with music
On cold starry nights,
To sup with the Queen
Of the gay Northern Lights.
 
 
They stole little Bridget
For seven years long;
When she came down again
Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back,
Between the night and morrow,
They thought that she was fast asleep,
But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lake,
On a bed of flag-leaves,
Watching till she wake.
 
 
By the craggy hill-side,
Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn-trees
For pleasure here and there.
Is any man so daring
As dig them up in spite,
He shall find their sharpest thorns
In his bed at night.
 
 
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl's feather!
 

THE ELF SINGING

 
An Elf sat on a twig,
He was not very big,
He sang a little song,
He did not think it wrong;
But he was on a Wizard's ground,
Who hated all sweet sound.
 
 
Elf, Elf,
Take care of yourself!
He's coming behind you,
To seize you and bind you,
And stifle your song.
The Wizard! the Wizard!
He changes his shape
In crawling along,
An ugly old ape,
A poisonous lizard,
A spotted spider,
A wormy glider,
The Wizard! the Wizard!
He's up on the bough,
He'll bite through your gizzard
He's close to you now!
 
 
The Elf went on with his song,
It grew more clear and strong,
It lifted him into air,
He floated singing away,
With rainbows in his hair;
While the Wizard-worm from his creep
Made a sudden leap,
Fell down into a hole,
And, ere his magic word he could say,
Was eaten up by a Mole.
 

THE FAIRY KING

 
"High on the hill-top
The old King sits;
He is now so old and gray
He's nigh lost his wits."
 
 
The Fairy King was old.
He met the Witch of the Wold.
"Ah ha, King!" quoth she,
"Now thou art old like me."
"Nay, Witch!" quoth he,
"I am not old like thee."
 
 
The King took off his crown,
It almost bent him down;
His age was too great
To carry such a weight.
"Give it here!" she said,
And clapt it on her head.
 
 
Crown sank to ground;
The Witch no more was found.
Then sweet spring-songs were sung,
The Fairy King grew young,
His crown was made of flowers,
He lived in woods and bowers.
 

CHORUS OF FAIRIES

 
Golden, golden,
Light unfolding,
Busily, merrily, work and play,
In flowery meadows,
And forest shadows,
All the length of a Summer day!
All the length of a Summer day!
 
 
Sprightly, lightly,
Sing we rightly,
Moments brightly hurry away;
Fruit-tree blossoms,
And roses' bosoms, —
Clear blue sky of a Summer day!
Dear blue sky of a Summer day!
 
 
Springlets, brooklets,
Greeny nooklets,
Hill and Valley, and salt sea-spray,
Comrade rovers,
Fairy lovers, —
All the length of a Summer day
All the livelong Summer day!
 

ROBIN REDBREAST

 
Good-bye, good-bye to Summer!
For Summer's nearly done;
The garden smiling faintly,
Cool breezes in the sun;
Our Thrushes now are silent,
Our Swallows flown away, —
But Robin's here, in coat of brown,
With ruddy breast-knot gay.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
Robin singing sweetly
In the falling of the year.
 
 
Bright yellow, red, and orange,
The leaves come down in hosts;
The trees are Indian Princes,
But soon they'll turn to Ghosts;
The scanty pears and apples
Hang russet on the bough,
It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late,
'Twill soon be Winter now.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And welaway! my Robin,
For pinching times are near.
 
 
The fireside for the Cricket,
The wheatstack for the Mouse,
When trembling night-winds whistle
And moan all round the house;
The frosty ways like iron,
The branches plumed with snow, —
Alas! in Winter, dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear,
And a crumb of bread for Robin,
His little heart to cheer.
 

AMY MARGARET

 
Amy Margaret's five years old,
Amy Margaret's hair is gold,
Dearer twenty-thousand-fold
Than gold, is Amy Margaret.
 
 
"Amy" is friend, is "Margaret"
The pearl for crown or carkanet?
Or peeping daisy, Summer's pet?
Which are you, Amy Margaret?
 
 
A friend, a daisy, and a pearl;
A kindly, simple, precious girl, —
Such, howsoe'er the world may twirl,
Be ever, – Amy Margaret!
 

JINGLE, JANGLE!

 
Jingle, jangle!
Riot and wrangle!
What shall we do
With people like you?
Here's Jingle!
There's Jangle!
Here's Riot!
There's Wrangle!
Never was seen such a turbulent crew!
 
 
You, north must go
To a hut of snow;
You, south, in a trice,
To an island of spice;
You, off to Persia
And sit on a hill,
You, to that chair
And be five minutes' still!
 

DREAMING

 
A strange little Dream
On a long star-beam
Ran down from the midnight skies,
To curly-hair'd Fred
Asleep in his bed,
With the lids on his merry blue eyes.
 
 
Under each lid
The thin Dream slid,
And spread to a picture inside,
A new World there,
Most strange and rare,
Tho' just by our garden-side.
 
 
Rivers and Rocks,
And a Treasure-Box,
And Floating in Air without wings,
And the Speaking Beast,
And a Royal Feast,
My chair beside the King's;
 
 
A Land of Flowers,
And of lofty Towers
Carved over in marble white
With living Shapes
Of Panthers and Apes
That gambol in ceaseless flight;
 
 
And a Cellar small
With its Cave in the Wall
Stretching many a mile underground!
And the Rope from the Moon! —
Fred woke too soon,
For its end could never be found.
 

I LOVE YOU, DEAR

 
I love you, Dear, I love you, Dear,
You can't think how I love you, Dear!
Supposing I
Were a Butterfly,
I'd waver around and above you, Dear.
 
 
A long way off I spied you, Dear,
No bonnet or hat could hide you, Dear,
If I were a Bird,
Believe my word,
I'd sing every day beside you, Dear.
 
 
When you're away I miss you, Dear,
And now you're here I'll kiss you, Dear,
And beg you will take
This flow'r for my sake,
And my love along with this, you Dear!
 

SEASONS

 
In Spring-time, the Forest,
In Summer, the Sea,
In Autumn, the Mountains,
In Winter, – ah me!
 
 
How gay, the old branches
A-swarm with new buds,
The primrose and bluebell
Fresh-blown in the woods,
All green things unfolding,
Where merry birds sing!
I love in the Woodlands
To wander in Spring.
 
 
What joy, when the Sea-waves,
In mirth and in might,
Spread purple in shadow,
Flash white into light!
The gale fills the sail,
And the gull flies away;
In crimson and gold
Sets the long Summer Day.
 
 
O pride! on the Mountains
To leave earth below;
The great slopes of heather,
One broad purple glow;
The loud-roaring torrent
Leaps, bound after bound,
To plains of gold Autumn,
With mist creeping round
 
 
Ah, Wind, is it Winter?
Yes, Winter is here;
With snow on the meadow,
And ice on the mere.
The daylight is short,
But the firelight is long;
Our skating's good sport;
Then story and song.
 
 
In Spring-time, the Forest,
In Summer, the Sea,
In Autumn, the Mountains, —
And Winter has glee.
 

THE CAT AND THE DOG

 
There once lived a Man, a Cat, and a Dog,
And the Man built a house with stone and log.
"If you'll help to take care of this house with me,
One indoors, one out, your places must be."
Said both together, "Indoors I'll stay!"
And they argued the matter for half-a-day.
 
 
"Come, let us sing for it!" purrs the Cat;
"No!" barks the Dog, "I won't do that."
"Come, let us fight for it!" growls Bow-wow;
"Nay!" says Pussy, "mee-ow, mee-ow!"
"Well, let us race for it!" – said and done.
The course is mark'd out, and away they run.
 
 
Puss bounded off; the Dog ran fast;
Quickly was Puss overtaken and pass'd;
But a Beggar who under the hedge did lie
Struck the poor Dog as he gallop'd by
A blow with his staff, and lessen'd his pace
To a limp: so Pussy won the race.
 
 
The Beggar went on his way to beg;
Dog was cured of his limping leg;
And Cat keeps the inside of the house,
Watching it well from rat and mouse,
Dog keeps the outside, ever since then,
And always barks at beggar-men.
 

HERE AND THERE

(A JUVENILE CHORUS.)

 
Where's Lucy? where's Lucy?
Far, far in the wood,
With wild birds for playmates,
And beechnuts for food?
 

Chorus

 
No, here she is! here she is!
Happy and gay,
With singing and ringing
To join in our lay.
 
 
Where's Gerald? where's Gerald?
He's out in the snow;
The stars shining keenly,
The cold wind doth blow.
 
 
No, here he is! here he is!
Happy and gay;
With singing and ringing
To join in our lay!
 
 
Where's Evey? where's Evey?
She's lost in the fog;
Go seek her, go find her,
With man and with dog.
 
 
No, here she is! here she is!
Happy and gay;
With singing and ringing,
To join in our lay!
 
 
Where's Henry? where's Henry?
Poor Henry's afloat;
The sea-waves all round him,
High tossing his boat.
 
 
No, here he is! here he is!
Happy and gay;
With singing and ringing
To join in our lay!
 
 
Where's Charley? where's Charley?
In China dwells he;
He wears a long pig-tail,
Perpetually drinks tea.
 
 
No, here he is! here he is!
Happy and gay;
With singing and ringing,
To join in our lay!
 
 
Where's Johnny? where's Johnny?
In Nubia, I know;
He has climb'd a tall palm-tree, —
A lion's below.
 
 
No, here he is! here he is!
Happy and gay;
With singing and ringing,
To join in our lay!
 
 
Where's Mary? where's Mary?
Young Mary's asleep;
And round her white pillow
The little dreams creep.
 
 
No, here she is! here she is!
Happy and gay;
With singing and ringing,
To join in our lay!
 
 
Where's Bertha? where's Bertha?
She has wings – she can fly!
She has flown to the bright moon —
Look up there and spy!
 
 
No, here she is! here she is!
Happy and gay;
With sinking and ringing,
To join in our lay!
 

[AD INFINITUM.]

THE BIRD

 
"Birdie, Birdie, will you pet?
Summer-time is far away yet,
You'll have silken quilts and a velvet bed,
And a pillow of satin for your head!"
 
 
"I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall;
No rain comes through, tho' I hear it fall;
The sun peeps gay at dawn of day,
And I sing, and wing away, away!"
 
 
"O Birdie, Birdie, will you pet?
Diamond-stones and amber and jet
We'll string for a necklace fair and fine
To please this pretty bird of mine!"
 
 
"O thanks for diamonds, and thanks for jet,
But here is something daintier yet, —
A feather-necklace round and round,
That I wouldn't sell for a thousand pound!"
 
 
"O Birdie, Birdie, won't you pet?
We'll buy you a dish of silver fret,
A golden cup and an ivory seat,
And carpets soft beneath your feet!"
 
 
"Can running water be drunk from gold?
Can a silver dish the forest hold?
A rocking twig is the finest chair,
And the softest paths lie through the air, —
Good-bye, good-bye to my lady fair!"
 

WISHING

 
Ring-ting! I wish I were a Primrose,
A bright yellow Primrose blowing in the Spring!
The stooping boughs above me,
The wandering bee to love me,
The fern and moss to creep across,
And the Elm-tree for our king!
 
 
Nay – stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree,
A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay!
The winds would set them dancing,
The sun and moonshine glancing,
The Birds would house among the boughs,
And sweetly sing!
 
 
O – no! I wish I were a Robin,
A Robin or a little Wren, everywhere to go;
Through forest, field, or garden,
And ask no leave or pardon,
Till Winter comes with icy thumbs
To ruffle up our wing.
 
 
Well – tell! Where should I fly to,
Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell?
Before a day was over,
Home comes the rover,
For Mother's kiss, – sweeter this
Than any other thing!
 

I SAW A LITTLE BIRDIE FLY

 
I saw a little Birdie fly,
Merrily piping came he;
"Whom d'ye sing to, Bird?" said I;
"Sing? – I sing to Amy!"
 
 
"Very sweet you sing," I said;
"Then," quoth he, "to pay me,
Give one little crumb of bread,
A little smile from Amy."
 
 
"Just," he sings, "one little smile;
O, a frown would slay me!
Thanks, and now I'm gone awhile, —
Fare-you-well, dear Amy!"
 

A MOUNTAIN ROUND

(Tyrol.)

 
Take hands, merry neighbours, for dancing the round!
Moonlight is fair and delicious the air;
From valley to valley our music shall sound,
And startle the wolf in his lair.
From summits of snow to the forest below,
Let vulture and crow hear the echoes, O-ho! (O-ho!)
While shadow on meadow in dancing the round
Goes whirligig, pair after pair!
 

THE LEPRACAUN;
OR,
FAIRY SHOEMAKER

I

 
Little Cowboy, what have you heard,
Up on the lonely rath's green mound?
Only the plaintive yellow bird
Sighing in sultry fields around,
Chary, chary, chary, chee-ee! —
Only the grasshopper and the bee? —
"Tip-tap, rip-rap,
Tick-a-tack-too!
Scarlet leather sewn together,
This will make a shoe.
Left, right, pull it tight;
Summer days are warm;
Underground in winter,
Laughing at the storm!"
Lay your ear close to the hill.
Do you not catch the tiny clamour,
Busy click of an Elfin hammer,
Voice of the Lepracaun singing shrill
As he merrily plies his trade?
He's a span
And a quarter in height.
Get him in sight, hold him tight,
And you're a made
Man!
 

II

 
You watch your cattle the summer day,
Sup on potatoes, sleep in the hay:
How would you like to roll in your carriage,
Look for a Duchess's daughter in marriage?
Seize the Shoemaker – then you may!
"Big boots a-hunting,
Sandals in the hall,
White for a wedding-feast,
Pink for a ball.
This way, that way,
So we make a shoe;
Getting rich every stitch,
Tick-tack-too!"
Nine-and-ninety treasure-crocks
This keen miser-fairy hath,
Hid in mountains, woods, and rocks,
And where the cormorants build;
From times of old
Guarded by him;
Each of them fill'd
Full to the brim
With gold!
 

III

 
I caught him at work one day, myself,
In the castle-ditch where foxglove grows, —
A wrinkled, wizen'd, and bearded Elf,
Spectacles stuck on his pointed nose,
Silver buckles to his hose,
Leather apron-shoe in his lap —
"Rip-rap, tip-tap,
Tack-tack-too!
(A green cricket on my cap!
Away the moth flew!)
Buskins for a fairy prince,
Brogues for his son, —
Pay me well, pay me well,
When the job is done!"
The rogue was mine, beyond a doubt.
I stared at him, he stared at me;
"Servant, Sir!" "Humph!" says he,
And pull'd a snuff-box out.
He took a long pinch, look'd better pleased,
The queer little Lepracaun;
Offer'd the box with a whimsical grace,
Pouf! he flung the dust in my face,
And, while I sneezed,
Was gone!
 

Raths, very ancient forts or entrenched dwelling-places, usually on hills; the remains of these are common in Ireland, and resemble what are called "Rings" in England.

Yellow bird, the yellow bunting, or "yorlin."