Fairy Tales of Ireland - P.J. Lynch

Скачать книгу

the world’s more full of weeping than

      you can understand.

      Where the wave of moonlight glosses

      The dim grey sands with light,

      Far off by farthest Rosses

      We foot it all the night,

      Weaving olden dances,

      Mingling hands, and mingling glances,

      Till the moon has taken flight;

      To and fro we leap,

      And chase the frothy bubbles,

      While the world is full of troubles.

      And is anxious in its sleep.

      Come away! O, human child!

      To the woods and waters wild,

      With a fairy hand in hand,

      For the world’s more full of weeping than

      you can understand.

Image Missing

      Where the wandering water gushes

      From the hills above Glen-Car,

      In pools among the rushes,

      That scarce could bathe a star,

      We seek for slumbering trout,

      And whispering in their ears;

      We give them evil dreams,

      Leaning softly out

      From ferns that drop their tears

      Of dew on the young streams.

      Come! O, human child!

      To the woods and waters wild,

      With a fairy hand in hand,

      For the world’s more full of weeping than

      you can understand.

      Away with us, he’s going,

      The solemn-eyed;

      He’ll hear no more the lowing

      Of the calves on the warm hill-side.

      Or the kettle on the hob

      Sing peace into his breast;

      Or see the brown mice bob

      Round and round the oatmeal chest.

      For he comes, the human child,

      To the woods and waters wild,

      With a fairy hand in hand,

      For the world’s more full of weeping than

      he can understand.

Image Missing

       2. The Priest’s Supper

      It is said by those who ought to understand such things, that the good people, or the fairies, are some of the angels who were turned out of heaven, and who landed on their feet in this world, while the rest of their companions, who had more sin to sink them, went down farther to a worse place. Be this as it may, there was a merry troop of the fairies, dancing and playing all manner of wild pranks, on a bright moonlight evening towards the end of September.

      The scene of their merriment was not far distant from Inchegeela, in the west of the county Cork – a poor village, although it had a barrack for soldiers; but great mountains and barren rocks, like those round about it, are enough to strike poverty into any place: however as the fairies can have everything they want for wishing, poverty does not trouble them much, and all their care is to seek out unfrequented nooks and places where it is not likely anyone will come to spoil their sport.

      On a nice green sod by the river’s side were the little fellows dancing in a ring as gaily as may be, with their red caps wagging about at every bound in the moonshine, and so light were these bounds that the lobs of dew, although they trembled under their feet, were not disturbed by their capering. Thus did they carry on their gambols, spinning round and round, and twirling and bobbing and diving, and going through all manner of figures, until one of them chirped out,

      “Cease, cease, with your drumming,

       Here’s an end to our mumming;

       By my smell

       I can tell

      A priest this way is coming!”

Image Missing

      And away every one of the fairies scampered off as hard as they could, concealing themselves under the green leaves of the foxglove; where, if their little red caps should happen to peep out, they would only look like its crimson bells; and more hid themselves at the shady side of stones and brambles, and others under the bank of the river, and in holes and crannies of one kind or another.

      The fairy speaker was not mistaken; for along the road, which was within view of the river, came Father Horrigan on his pony, thinking to himself that as it was so late he would make an end of his journey at the first cabin he came to. According to his determination, he stopped at the dwelling of Dermod Leary, lifted the latch, and entered with “My blessing on all here”.

      I need not say that Father Horrigan was a welcome guest wherever he went, for no man was more pious or better beloved in the country. Now it was a great trouble to Dermod that he had nothing to offer his reverence for supper as a relish to the potatoes, which “the old woman”, for so Dermod called his wife, though she was not much past twenty, had down boiling in a pot over the fire; he thought of the net which he had set in the river, but as it had been there only a short time, the chances were against his finding a fish in it. “No matter,” thought Dermod, “there can be no harm in stepping down to try; and maybe, as I want fish for the priest’s supper, that one will be there before me.”

      Down to the river-side went Dermod, and he found in the net as fine a salmon as ever jumped in the bright waters of “the spreading Lee”; but as he was going to take it out, the net was pulled from him, he could not tell how or by whom, and away got the salmon, and went swimming along with the current as gaily as if nothing had happened.

      Dermod looked sorrowfully at the wake which the fish had left upon the water, shining like a line of silver in the moonlight, and then, with an angry motion of his right hand, and a stamp of his foot, gave vent to his feelings by muttering, “May bitter bad luck attend you night and day for a blackguard schemer of a salmon, wherever you go! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, if there’s any shame in you, to give me the slip after this fashion! And I’m clear in my own mind you’ll come to no good, for some kind of evil thing or other helped you – did I not feel it pull the net against me as strong as the devil himself?”

      “That’s not true for you,” said one of the little fairies who had scampered off at the approach of the priest, coming up to Dermod Leary with a whole throng of companions at his heels; “there was only a dozen and a half of us pulling against you.”

      Dermod gazed on the tiny speaker with wonder, who continued, “Make yourself noways uneasy about the priest’s supper; for if you will go back and ask him one question from us, there will be as fine a supper as ever was put on a table spread out before him in less than no time.”

      “I’ll have nothing at all to do with you,” replied Dermod in a tone of determination; and after a pause he added, “I’m much obliged to you for your offer, sir, but I know better than to

Скачать книгу