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by William Butler Yeats
Scene: A circle of Druidic stones
First Fairy: Afar from our lawn and our levee,
O sister of sorrowful gaze!
Where the roses in scarlet are heavy
And dream of the end of their days,
You move in another dominion
And hang o'er the historied stone:
Unpruned in your beautiful pinion
Who wander and whisper alone.
All: Come away while the moon's in the woodland,
We'll dance and then feast in a dairy.
Though youngest of all in our good band,
You are wasting away, little fairy.
Second Fairy: Ah! cruel ones, leave me alone now
While I murmur a little and ponder
The history here in the stone now;
Then away and away I will wander,
And measure the minds of the flowers,
And gaze on the meadow-mice wary,
And number their days and their hours--
All: You're wasting away, little fairy.
Second Fairy: O shining ones, lightly with song pass,
Ah! leave me, I pray you and beg.
My mother drew forth from the long grass
A piece of a nightingle's egg,
And cradled me here where are sung,
Of birds even, longings for aery
Wild wisdoms of spirit and tongue.
All: You're wasting away, little fairy.
First Fairy [turning away]: Though the tenderest roses were round you,
The soul of this pitiless place
With pitiless magic has bound you--
Ah! woe for the loss of your face,
And the loss of your laugh with its lightness--
Ah! woe for your wings and your head--
Ah! woe for your eyes and their brightness--
Ah! woe for your slippers of red.
All: Come away while the moon's in the woodland,
We'll dance and then feast in a dairy.
Though youngest of all in our good band,
She's wasting away, little fairy.
by William Butler Yeats
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of the reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For 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 furthest 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 waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
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
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, 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 hillside
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 waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.
an excerpt - by Ben Jonson
This is MAB, the mistris-Faerie,
That doth nightly rob the dayrie;
And she can hurt, or helpe the cherning,
(As shee please) without discerning...
Shall we strip the skipping jester?
This is shee, that empties cradles,
Takes out children, puts in ladles:
Traynes forth mid-wives in their slumber,
With a sive the holes to number
And then leads them, from her borroughs,
Home through ponds, and water furrowes.
Pinch and Patch, Gull and Grim,
Goe you together;
For you can change your shapes,
Like to the weather.
Sib and Tib, Licke and Lull,
You have trickes too;
Little Tom Thumb that pipes
Shall goe betwixt you.
Hop, and Mop, and Dryp so clear,
Pip, and Trip, and Skip that were
To Mab, their sovereign, ever dear,
Her special maids of honour;
Fib, and Tib, and Pinch, and Pin,
Tick, and Quick, and Jil, and Jin,
Tit, and Nit, and Wap, and Win,
The train that wait upon her.
(The Poem of Lady Bellantia)
A lady sweet, queen of pure light
Invited me to Arcadia one night
To ease the pain of my mortal plight
And she welcomed upon the Shortest Day.
She gave me her hand and offered a meal
A feast so bountiful, it could not be real
Oh, such great joy my heart did feel
As we laughed upon the Shortest Day.
A gift I brought, a blue spruce bough
It drank from her cup. I know not how
But the branch did grow. It towers now
And we sang upon the Shortest Day.
Tales we told as the sun dipped low
An evening of beauty, I could not go
My joy at this lady I attempted to show
We spoke of love on the Shortest Day.
The Shadows grew, she pulled away
The tables were cleared, she would not stay
Her gift, a bronze ring, I have til this day
And we wept upon the Shortest Day
As Darkness began to gather might
The Lady's tears did bless my sight
She turned on her heel and made her flight
Alone at last, upon the Longest Night.
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