Elves and Heroes | Page 7

wide, lone moor!
Ah! would I be
forgetting of The Thing that came with me?
For it was big and black
as black, and it was dour as dour, It shrank and grew and had no shape
of aught I e'er did see.

For it came creeping like a cloud that's moving all alone,
Without the
sound of footsteps ... and I heard its heavy sighs ... Its face was old and
grey, and like a lichen-covered stone, And its tangled locks were
dropping o'er its sad and weary eyes.
O it's never the word it had to say in anger or in woe--
It would not
seek to harm me that had never done it wrong,
As fleet--O like the
deer!--I went, or I went panting slow, The waesome thing came with
me on that lonely road and long.
O eerie was the Urisk that convoy'd me o'er the moor!
When I was all
so helpless and my heart was full of fear,
Nor when it was beside me
or behind me was I sure--
I knew it would be following--I knew it
would be near!
THE NIMBLE MEN.
(AURORA BOREALIS.)
When Angus Ore, the wizard,
His fearsome wand will raise,
The
night is filled with splendour,
And the north is all ablaze;
From
clouds of raven blackness,
Like flames that leap on high--
All
merrily dance the Nimble Men across the Northern Sky.
Now come the Merry Maidens,
All gowned in white and green,

While the bold and ruddy fellows
Will be flitting in between--
O to
hear the fairy piper
Who will keep them tripping by!--
The men and
maids who merrily dance across the Northern Sky.
O the weird and waesome music,
And the never-faltering feet!
O
their fast and strong embraces,
And their kisses hot and sweet!

There's a lost and languished lover
With a fierce and jealous eye,

As merrily flit the Nimble Folk across the Northern Sky.
So now the dance is over,

And the dancers sink to rest--
There's a maid that has two lovers,

And there's one she loves the best;
He will cast him down before her,

She will raise him with a sigh--
Her love so bright who danced
to-night across the Northern Sky.
Then up will leap the other,
And up will leap his clan--
O the lover
and his company
Will fight them man to man--
All shrieking from
the conflict
The merry maidens fly--
There's a Battle Royal raging
now across the Northern Sky.
Through all the hours of darkness
The fearsome fight will last;

They are leaping white with anger,
And the blows are falling fast--

And where the slain have tumbled
A pool of blood will lie--
O it's
dripping on the dark green stones from out the Northern Sky.
When yon lady seeks her lover
In the cold and pearly morn,
She
will find that he has fallen
By the hand that she would scorn,--
She
will clasp her arms about him,
And in her anguish die!--
O never
again will trip the twain across the Northern Sky.
MY GUNNA.
When my kine are on the hill,
Who will charm them from all ill?

While I'll sleep at ease until
All the cocks are crowing clear.
Who'll
be herding them for me?
It's the elf I fain would see--
For they're
safe as safe can be
When the Gunna will be near.
He will watch the long weird night,
When the stars will shake with
fright,
Or the ghostly moon leaps bright
O'er the ben like Beltane
fire.
If my kine would seek the corn,
He will turn them by the
horn--
And I'll find them all at morn
Lowing sweet beside the byre.
Croumba's bard has second-sight,
And he'll moan the Gunna's plight,

When the frosts are flickering white,

And the kine are housed till
day;
For he'll see him perched alone
On a chilly old grey stone,


Nibbling, nibbling at a bone
That we'll maybe throw away.
He's so hungry, he's so thin,
If he'd come we'd let him in,
For a rag
of fox's skin
Is the only thing he'll wear.
He'll be chittering in the
cold
As he hovers round the fold,
With his locks of glimmering
gold
Twined about his shoulders bare.
THE GRUAGACH.
(MILKMAID'S SONG.)
The lightsome lad wi' yellow hair,
The elfin lad that is so fair,
He
comes in rich and braw attire--
To loose the kine within the byre--
My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering
there--
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi'
yellow hair.
He's dressed so fine, he's dressed so grand,
A supple switch is in his
hand;
I've seen while I a-milking sat
The shadow of his beaver hat.
My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering
there--
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi'
yellow hair.
My chuckling lad, so full o' fun,
Around the corners he will run;

Behind the door he'll sometimes jink,
And blow to make my candle
blink.
My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering
there--
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi'
yellow hair.
The elfin lad that is so braw,
He'll sometimes hide among the straw;

He's sometimes leering from the loft--
He's tittering