Now the Hungry Lion Roars
Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with the weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow
Whilst the scritch-owl, scratching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves, all gaping wide,
Everyone lets forth his sprite,
In the churchway paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate’s team
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallowed house:
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.
Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire;
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hope as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it, trippingly.
First rehearse your song by rote,
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be;
And the blots of Nature’s hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gait;
And each several ch♦amber bless,
Through this palace with sweet peace:
And the owner of it blest,
Ever shall in safety rest.
Trip away;
Make no stay:
Meet me all by break of day
By William Shakespeare
Over Hill, Over Dale
Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire:
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moones sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dew- drops here,
And hang a ♦pearl in every cowslip's ear.
--William Shakespeare
Overheard on a Saltmarsh
Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?
Green glass, globin. Why do you stare at them?
Give them me.
No.
Give them me. Give them me.
No.
Then I will howl all night in the reeds,
Lie in the mud and howl for them.
Golbin,why do you love them so?
They are better than stars or water,
Better than voices of winds that sing,
Better than any man's fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring.
Hush, I stole them out of the moon.
Give me your beads, I desire them.
No.
I will howl in a deep lagoon
For you green glass beads,I love them so.
Give them me.Give them.
No.
By Harold Monro
Queen Mab
I am the Fairy MAB: to me ‘tis given
The wonders of the human world to keep:
The secrets of the immeasurable past,
In the unfailing consciences of men,
Those stern, unflattering chroniclers, I find:
The future, form the causes which arise
In each event, I gather: not the sting
Which retributive memory implants
In the hard bosom of the selfish man;
Nor that ecstatic and exulting throb
Which virtue’s votary feels when he sums up
The thoughts and actions of a well-spend day,
Are unforeseen, unregistered by me:
And it is yet permitted me, to rent
The veil of mortal frailty, that the spirit
Clothed in its changeless purity, may know
How soonest to accomplish the great end
For which it hath its being, and may taste
That peace, which in the end all life will share
By PB Shelly
Rain FallsThe rain pours down
warm and lovely
as it has been quite some time
since I have witnessed
the dirt turning to mud
the earth running along my walkway
and how delicious is the smell
of the moistened creosote
in the October air
we are on the edge now
of breaking out of our prison of heat
and breaking in to our Paradise
so suddenly I just begin to run
as fast as my legs will carry me
into the falling rain
across the desert landscape
no longer foreign
to this forest born woman
the energy building inside me
under the brilliant Moon
She guides me
sure and true
as I race
to catch up with my heart
that speeds on ahead
breathless
in this mysterious land of saguaro
roadrunner and coyote
while ghosts of my Native ancestors awake
with the rain
as it falls
onto their sleep
urgently whispering to me
in this wondrous night of vision
thier chants reminding me of
our blood
that spilled on this sand
still running thick in my veins
still staining the streets of the towns
that paved over their graves without thought
or respect
and oh,
how I want to make them proud
as the rain falls steadily down
I raise my arms high
as I run on
beckoning to the spirits
to lift me up
and show me
please show me
how this land once was
and then I see them
in their circle of dance
paint and drums and
mountain sentinels
ravens in flight above
dancing with them
and I begin to sing
and begin to see
and the rain falls
it helps me believe
in my naive idealistic philosophy
that there is still hope
that perhaps
there is still time
and I fall
with the drops
to the floor
of our sacred Earth
grasping her soil
in two clenched fists
closing my eyes
throwing my head back
and drinking in the heavens
wishing on the stars
to save us
please save us
save us from ourselves
as the rain keeps falling
down,
in all her lovely Grace it falls
down
on our bruised and bloody land
the rain falls.
By Suzanne "Lily" Jaillet-Isham
http://lilyofthevalleyart.com/
Romeo and Juliet
Mercutio's Queen Mab Speech
O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an ♦agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider's web,
The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,
O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
Then dreams, he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night,
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:
This is she...
By William Shakespeare
Secret GardenI have not a traditional garden
full of soil and flowers that grow
my garden is a secret one
that only to my friends I show
its seeds are planted carefully
they are full of hope and light
they are watered with my fondest dreams
each and every night
the sunlight shines from my soul
the ground is fertilized with faith
what grows within this garden
is love for just love's sake
love for all my family
and for my steadfast friends
love for my fuzzy furkids
to me the angels send
love for Mother Nature
in all her splendor grand
love for all the animals
that roam upon this land
love for the ancient stars
under which I dance
love for the howling winds
that throw my luck to chance
love to my ancestors
who left me tales and lore
for their gentle Native spirits
who tried so hard to teach us more
love for the guardian trees
under which I soundly sleep
love for the mighty ocean
with all its mysteries deep
love for all the magic
that exists if we take the time
to look beyond the boundaries
thrust upon our minds
my garden could not continue
if I was not truly blessed
so I promise to treasure it always
as in my heart is where it rests.
By ©Suzanne "Lily" Isham, May 5, 2004
http://lilyofthevalleyart.com/
Song of the Wandering Aengus
I went out to the hazel wood
Because a fire was in my head
And cut an peeled a hazel wand
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing
And moth-like stars were flickering out
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name;
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
By W. B. Yeats
The Child and the Faeries
The woods are full of faeries!
The trees are all alive;
The river overflows with them,
See how they dip and dive!
What funny little fellows!
What dainty little dears!
They dance and leap,
and prance and peep,
And utter fairy cheers!
I'd like to tame a fairy,
To keep it on a shelf,
And dress its little self.
I'd teach it pretty manners,
It always should say "please",
And then you know I'd make it sew,
And curtsey with its knees!
Author Unknown
The Dream
When I slept, I thought I was upon the mountain-tops,
and this is my dream.
I saw the little people come out into the night,
I saw their wings glittering under the stars.
Crickets played all the tunes they knew.
It was so comfortable with light . . .
Stars, a rainbow, the moon!
The fairies had shiny crowns
on their bright hair.
The bottoms of their little gowns were roses!
It was musical in the moony light,
and the fairy queen,
oh, it was all golden where she came
with tiny pages on her trail.
She walked slowly to her high throne,
slowly, slowly to music,
and watched the dancing that went on
all night long in star-glitter
on the mountain-tops.
By Hilda Conkling
The Faery Forest
The faery forest glimmered
Beneath an ivory moon,
The silver grasses shimmered
Against a faery tune.
Beneath the silken silence
The crystal branches slept,
And dreaming thro' the dew-fall
The cold white blossoms wept.
By Sara Teasdale
The Fairies
Up the airy mountain
Down the rushy glen,
We dare n'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 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 the thornies set
In his bed at night.
Up the airy mountain
Down the rushy glen,
We dare n'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.
By William Allingham
The Fairies
If ye will with Mab find grace,
Set each Platter in his place:
Rake the Fier up, and get
Water in, ere Sun be set.
Wash your PaiLes, and clense your Dairies;
Sluts are loathsome to the Fairies:
Sweep your house: Who doth not so,
Mab will pinch her by the toe.
By Robert Herrick
The Fairies' Danced
Dare you haunt our hallow’d green?
None but fairies here are seen
Down and sleep,
Wake and weep,
Pinch him black, and pinch him blue,
That seeks to steal a lover true! When you come to hear us sing,
Or to tread our fairy ring,
Pinch him black, an pinch him blue!
O thus our nails shall handle you!
By Thomas Ravenscroft
The Fairies Dancing
I heard along the early hills,
Ere yet the lark was risen up,
Ere yet the dawn with firelight fills
The night-dew of the bramble-cup,--
I heard the fairies in a ring
Sing as they tripped a lilting round
Soft as the moon on wavering wing.
The startlight shook as if with sound,
As if with echoing, and the stars
Pranked their bright eyes with trembling gleams;
While red with war the gusty Mars
Rained upon earth his ruddy beams.
He shone alone, low down the West,
While I, behind a hawthorn-bush,
Watched on the fairies flaxen-tressed
The fires of the morning flush.
Till, as a mist, their beauty died,
Their singing shrill and fainter grew;
And daylight tremulous and wide
Flooded the moorland through and through;
Till Urdon's copper weathercock
Was reared in golden flame afar,
And dim from moonlit dreams awoke
The towers and groves or Arroar.
By Walter de la Mare
The Fairies Have Never A Penny to Spend
The fairies have never a penny to spend,
They haven't a thing put by;
But theirs is the dower of bird and of flower.
And theirs are the earth and the sky.
And though you should live in a place of gold
Or sleep in a dried-up ditch,
You could never be poor as the fairies are,
And never as rich.
Since ever and ever the world
The have danced like ribbion of flame,
The have sung their song through the centuries long,
And yet it is never the same.
And though you be foolish or though you be wise,
With hair of silver or gold,
You could never be young as the fairies are,
And never as old.
By Rose Flyeman
The Fairy Call
(A spell for summoning the fairies)
Sit where the cat sits.
Cross your toes.
Close your eyes.
And smell a rose.
Then say under your breath:
"I believe in fairies,
sure as death."
Gadflykins! Gladtrypins!
Gutterpuss and Cass!
Come to me fairly
Each lad and lass!
--from "Lady Cottingley's Pressed Fairy Book"
The Fairy Child
From the low white walls and the church's steeple,
From our little fields under grass or grain,
I'm gone away to the fairy people
I shall not come to the town again.
You may see a girl with my face and tresses,
You may see one come to my mother's door
Who may speak my words and may wear my dresses.
She will not be I, for I come no more.
I am gone, gone far, with the fairies roaming,
You may ask of me where the herons are
In the open marsh when the snipe are homing,
Or when no moon lights nor a single star.
On stormy nights when the streams are foaming
And a hint may come of my haunts afar,
With the reeds my floor and my roof the gloaming,
But I come no more to Ballynar.
Ask Father Ryan to read no verses
To call me back, for I am this day
From blessings far, and beyond curses.
No heaven shines where we ride away.
At speed unthought of in all your stables,
With the gods of old and the sons of Finn,
With the queens that reigned in the olden fables
And kings that won what a sword can win.
You may hear us streaming above your gables
On nights as still as a planet's spin;
But never stir from your chairs and tables
To call my name. I shall not come in.
For I am gone to the fairy people.
Make the most of that other child
Who prays with you by the village steeple
I am gone away to the woods and wild.
I am gone away to the open spaces,
And whither riding no man may tell;
But I shall look upon all your faces
No more in Heaven or Earth or Hell.
by Lord Dunsanay
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