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 Children's ballads from history an 
 
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 THE BALLAD-BOOK. 
 
CHILDREN'S BALLADS 
 
 FROM HISTORY AND FOLK LORE 
 
 Mrs. Clara iiurv B^xj-i, Susan Co(ilidge, Mrs. Louisa T. Crafgin, 
 Edith \V. Cook, Mrs. Frances A. Humphrkv, Mrs. Emma Huntington Nason, Mrs. Margaret 
 
 1. PresTon, and Mary K. Wii.kins 
 
 EIGHTY-FOUR ILLUSTR.^XTIONS BY 
 K. H. GARRETT, G. F. BARNES, AND JESSIE McDERMOTT 
 
 BOSTON 
 D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY 
 
 32 FRANKLIN STREET, CORNER OF HAWLEY 
 
C5 
 
 Copyright, iS86, 
 
 by 
 
 D. LoTHROP & Company. 
 
.n: contents. 
 
 I. 
 
 The Cock-Horse Regiment . . - . Mrs. Frances A. Hnviphrey. 
 
 II. 
 Wasis, The Conqueror Edith \V. Cook. 
 
 III. 
 Little Ursel's IMotherixg Sund.w - . . . . Susan Coolidge. 
 
 IV. 
 King Robert's Bowl - - - ... Mrs. Clara Dory Bates. 
 
 V. 
 A B.\LL.\D OF Kexilworth - ... - Mrs. Margaret J. Preston. 
 
 VI. 
 The Mission Tea-Partv . - . . Mrs. Emma Huntington Nason. 
 
 VII. 
 Edenhall - - - . Susan Coolidge. 
 
 VIII. 
 King Oleg's Crown Mrs. Louisa T. Craigin. 
 
 IX. 
 Little Peachling - - Mary E. Wilkins. 
 
 X. 
 The Fairy Flag Mary E. Wilkins. 
 

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I. 
 
 THE COCK-HORSE REGIMENT. 
 
 Aji Iiicidcnt of the " Thirty Years WarP 
 

 <^a 
 
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 sJ LoV :; :=C~^ ^--- 
 
 PROUDLY placed among her meadows, 
 With the Pegnitz winding near, 
 Proudest of all German cities — 
 Nuremberg, without her peer. 
 
 Nuremberg the free and mighty ; 
 
 Nuremberg, whose busy hand 
 " Goeth," saith her ancient rhymster, 
 
 " Far and wide through ever)' land." 
 
 Vainly Waldstein's cannon thundered 
 'Gainst the city, tower-walled, 
 
 Vainly hurled he his battalions, 
 Vainly for surrender called. 
 
 But her people died by thousands 
 In the close beleaguered town, 
 
 And her women prayed while swiftly 
 Ran the tears their cheeks adown, 
 
 O the horror I O the anguish ! 
 
 O the bitter, bitter cry 
 Of the orphan and the widow 
 
 In that land of Germany ! 
 
 After thirty years of struggle. 
 Thirty years of bloody strife, 
 
 Cities sacked, and stan-ing peoples, 
 Nuremberg came back to life. 
 
Once more in her narrow highways 
 , Fearless children laughed and played, 
 Once more from her oriel windows 
 Looked the happy-hearted maid. 
 
 Then the Prince, th' imperial envoy, 
 
 Piccolomini, outspoke : 
 " We will have a day of feasting, 
 
 O my fasting burgher-folk ! 
 
 " Very fit that liere, it seemeth, 
 Here in Nuremberg the old. 
 
 First of all our loyal cities 
 
 Wherein news of peace is told, 
 
 " Very lit that blazing bonfire, 
 Booming cannon, chiming bell. 
 
 With their tongues of fire and iron 
 Blessed years of peace foretell." 
 
 As the Prince, so said the people. 
 
 Glad they gathered on that day — 
 July day — in sixteen hundred 
 
 Fifty — mark the year, I pray. 
 
 For from ashes of war's fires 
 
 Smoldering then upon the earth, 
 
 Phcenix-like, the German Nation 
 Dates her happy birth. 
 

 
 Gladly forth from every quarter, 
 Soldier, burgher, all outpour. 
 
 Marching in strait ranks and serried. 
 Marching on from door to door ; 
 
 Bearing silken standards, crimson, 
 Gold, of Nurembergan blue 
 
 Famous as the Tvrian purple, 
 — As 'tis told I tell it you — 
 
 Bearing banks of spears uplifted. 
 
 Treading sturdily alway. 
 Guild on guild, the cobbler, blacksmith 
 
 \one were wantinfr on that day. 
 
 None ? No — think you little children 
 Failed to lend their piquant grace 
 
 To their country's pageant ? Doubter I 
 They too had their time and place. 
 
 In among the moving column, 
 Heads erect and eyes intent. 
 
 Gallantly, most gallantly, 
 
 Marched the Cock-Horse Regiment ! 
 
 Clad in royal Genoa velvets, 
 
 Ostrich plumes, and Flanders lace. 
 
 Gems that sparkled as they rode by 
 — Children of patrician race 
 
Side by side with peasants sturdy, 
 Each boy waving with a toss 
 
 High in air his cutlass tiny, 
 Each upon his hobby-horse. 
 
 So on swept the grand procession 
 Past the castle where now stands 
 
 As then stood the lofty linden 
 Set by Kunigunde's hands ; 
 
 Past the house where Diirer painted, 
 Where with patient skill he wrought 
 
 Drew his wondrous " Burgomaster," 
 Truth and reverence in his thought : 
 
 (There still stands his ancient tombstone, 
 
 Emigravit carved thereon ; 
 " Gone, not dead," the legend runneth — 
 
 Nuremberg's own dearest son.) 
 
 Past the high and stately Rath-Haus 
 With its dungeons darlc and deep, 
 
 With its dreadful torture-chamber, 
 Torture that did murder sleep ; 
 
 Past the peasants' well-belove'd — 
 " Little Goose-man " is his name — 
 
 Flowing fountain, geese and goose-man, 
 Still beloved, and known to fame. 
 
 
Then in gracious accents speaking : 
 " My wisli is, and my intent. 
 
 That once more shall march before me 
 This brave Cock-Horse Regiment." 
 
 WEPY)^ 
 
So again in later summer. 
 
 Proudly, as before, the\- went; 
 
 Banners flying, steeds a-prancing, 
 Marched the Cock-Horse Resfiment. 
 
 On the obverse — ah ! how proudly 
 Went up each head with a toss 
 
 As the eyes of each boy fell on 
 Himself on his hobbv-horse ! 
 
 At the Red Horse Hostel halting, 
 
 Piccolomini the Prince 
 Gave to each a silver medal. 
 
 For them cast and <rraven since 
 
 Vivat Fcrdinando HI ! — 'twas 
 Thus thereon the legend read ; 
 
 Long may live the Roman Empire .' 
 
 — Empire long, now long since dead. 
 
 Last they stood taere ; and on one side, 
 
 In the silver bedded fine, 
 Austria's eagle, double-headed — 
 
 Empire's signet — they saw shine. 
 
 So with cheers and loud huzza-ings, 
 Heads erect and eyes intent, 
 
 On their prancing steeds away then 
 Marched the Cock-Horse Regiment. 
 
 mm, rr.d_^^M 
 
II. 
 
 WASIS, THE CONQUEROR. 
 
 Aji Algonquin Legend. 
 
^ 'W/A 
 
 LO ! all the world I have conquered,'' 
 Glooskap, the Might)- One, said. 
 Light laughed an Indian woman, 
 Shaking her dark-braided head 
 
 " Speak not too swiftly, my master. 
 One still unconquered remains — 
 
 \^'asis, the Baby, forever 
 
 Lord of the mightiest reigns." 
 
 Watching the motes in the sunshine. 
 
 Baby sat still on the floor : 
 Olooskap, the mighty magician. 
 
 Gazed through the open door. 
 
 He who had vanquished the storm-bird. 
 Binding its wings in the north — 
 
 Ever the wild winds after 
 
 Speeding more gently forth — 
 
 He who could fashion the squirrel 
 
 Little or great, at his will. 
 Lord of the bear and the beaver. 
 
 Master of good and ill. 
 
Gazed at tlie wonderful Baby 
 Watching the dancing gold, 
 
 Wondered what magical weapon 
 Little brown fingers could hold. 
 
 Happy of heart in the sunshine, 
 Wasis, the wonderful Child, 
 
 Sucking the sweets of the maple. 
 Looked at the stranger and smiled. 
 
 Sweet, then, as 'mid summer forest 
 Singeth the wee winter wren, 
 
 Spoke unto Wasis, the Strong One, 
 Master of beasts and men. 
 
 L'nto the Master's eyes lifted 
 Wondering eyes of the child — 
 
 Moved in the sunshine no shadow, 
 Wasis sat silent and smiled. 
 
 Glooskap, the mighty magician, Tiien, with a voice as of thunder. 
 
 Wife had known never, nor child. Under a terrible frown — 
 
 Knew not the heart's tender watchwords From the fir-trees of the forest 
 Wherewith caresses are wiled ; Falling the brown cones down- 
 
 Softly he smiled at the Baby, 
 Bidding him, gently, come nigh. 
 
 Wasis stirred not from the sunshine. 
 Watching the motes dance by. 
 
 Glooskap, the mighty magician, 
 Spoke his command o'er and o'er. 
 
 Neither the sunshine nor shadow 
 Changed on the lodge's bare flocr. 
 
 
III. 
 
 LITTLE URSEL'S MOTHERING SUNDAY. 
 
 An old Eitcrlisk Folk-Observance. 
 
THE long day's tasks were neatly done, 
 The milk pail scoured, the milk set by. 
 And Ursel at the set of sun 
 
 Stood wistfully her mistress nigh. 
 
 The Dame was stern, the Dame was shrewd, 
 So all the neighbors were agreed, 
 
 Thrifh' and sharp in word and mood, 
 But kindly still and just of deed. 
 
 She glanced at Ursel's braided hair. 
 
 She watched the color come and flit 
 On the voung cheek so round and fair. 
 
 And well she knew the cause of it. 
 
 And smiling at the little maid. 
 
 " You have worked well and had no play, 
 And been a steady lass," she said, 
 
 " Now you shall have a holiday. 
 
"To-morrow Mutliering Sunday is 
 When children to their parents go, 
 
 Each with a gift for her, or his, 
 And you shall have a gift also. 
 
 "The small round cheese I bade you make, 
 
 The pat of butter on the shelf, 
 The crusty loaf you saw me bake — 
 
 These you shall carry home yourself. 
 
 " I mind me how, a lass like you 
 With such a basket on my arm, 
 
 I hied me home, as you shall do 
 On Mothering Day, to the old farm. 
 
 The Dame at window overhead 
 
 Watched the girl go with joyous speed ; 
 "Mothers are happy folk," she said, 
 
 " Mothers are lucky folk indeed." 
 
 " And how my mother- — rest her soul ! 
 
 She has been dead these forty years " - 
 The Dame's voice shook beyond control. 
 
 She could not see the fire for tears. 
 
 Across the moor four distant miles. 
 At the same time a lad set forth. 
 
 With clean-washed face all lit with smiles ; 
 He headed south and Ursel north. 
 
 ISut little Ursel's cheeks were red. 
 
 Her heart was bounding light and gay ; 
 
 " Oh, thank you, thank you. Dame," she said. 
 And quietly she stole away. 
 
 His holiday was hard to gain, 
 His surly master cared no whit 
 
 For Mothering Sunday, and in vain 
 The bov had urged his wish for it ; 
 
 The morning's dawn was clear and fair, 
 And Ursel rose before the sun ; 
 
 She neatly bound her long bright hair. 
 And did her morning tasks, each one. 
 
 Until at last the farmer's wife, 
 
 \\'ith pity touched, had won consent ; 
 
 And glad as never in his life 
 
 The shepherd boy arose and went. 
 
 She made her ready for the road, 
 She tied her shoes and Sunday hat, 
 
 And in a basket she bestowed 
 The bread-loaf and the butter-pat. 
 
 \<' 
 
 He bore no gift, poor little lad. 
 
 His wage was naught but clothes and food, 
 But mother would, he knew, be glad. 
 
 And count his coming as a good. 
 
 Northward ran Ursel o'er the fell. 
 Southward the shepherd fleeter yet, 
 
 And half-wav by a roadside well 
 The brother and the sister met. 
 
 Both clapped their hands in gladsome wise ; 
 
 Long months had, since they met, gone by; 
 Tears shone in Ursel's happy eyes. 
 
 But manly Robin scorned to cry. 
 
" Have you no gift for mother brought ? " 
 She asked ; her brother shook his head ; 
 
 " Nothing with nothing can be bought. 
 How could I brin'j; one ? " Robin said. 
 
 
 They danced adown the lower hill. 
 
 Threaded the copse and crossed the brook, 
 
 'Till Ursel suddenly stood still. 
 
 Crying, " O Robin ! Robin ! Look ! " 
 
 There, in a sheltered hollow set, 
 Couched shyly hv a mossy stone, 
 
 They saw the earliest violet 
 
 All purple sweet and fully blown. 
 
 "Your gift? " she cried, "and best of all. 
 The proverb runs, that you could bring : 
 
 It says that ' Violets shall befall 
 Him who shall go a-mothering! ' " 
 
Their mother at the doorway stood, 
 
 Her hearth was swept all cleanly bright. 
 
 She looked to moor, she looked to wood, 
 Shading her eyes against the light. 
 
 She saw the youthful figures dawn 
 Dark shapes against the shining sky, 
 
 And as they rapidly came on 
 Contentment filled tiie mother's eye ; 
 
 And it was, '• You have grown, my lass," 
 And it was, "welcome home, dear lad," 
 
 As laughing, chattering, in they pass 
 With lightsome steps and kisses glad. 
 
 The yellow simnels shone like gold. 
 The frumenty was spiced and hot. 
 
 The children feasted as of old, 
 The mother too — though eating not. 
 
 .'Xh ! sweet old Mothering Holiday 
 Which bound the ties of kindred fast. 
 
 Lost and forgotten in our day — 
 What pity that it could not last ! 
 
IV. 
 KING ROBERT'S BOWL. 
 
 A Story of " The Brncer 
 

 •I y/i/ , I ■,*-/ * V , - ■ // // 
 
 
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 (It was the time when Robert Bruce, though Scot- 
 land's crowned lord, 
 
 Was driven his own realm about b\' Edward's en- 
 vious sword — 
 
 Five centuries and more ago — and oft the dreary- 
 heath 
 
 Saw lonely battles, hand to hand, end in some 
 lonely death.) 
 
The gude-wife's Scottish blood was up, she neared 
 the foes to see 
 
 Which kniglit was her own countryman, which 
 might the Southron be ; 
 
 That both were weak their bloody arms and stag- 
 gering steps bespoke, 
 
 But suddenly one dealt the other's casque a mighty 
 stroke. 
 
 He fell : and from the broken helmet strayed a 
 
 lock of hair, 
 'Twas English hair — she knew 'twas English — 
 
 long and very fair ; 
 Quickly she ran and seized the lock, held so he 
 
 could not stir, 
 And claimed he yield himself at once conquered 
 
 and prisoner. 
 
 With faint voice then the standing knight, as if in Then Lisbeth knew this was her king, and cried 
 
 half excuse, as she arose ; 
 
 Spake : " Not so long had he withstood the arm of " He hails you king, else I throw on him boiling 
 
 Robert Bruce, butter-brose." 
 
 Had I not been for two whole days without a taste " Nay," quoth the king, ")-our victory, gude-wife, 
 
 of food." is so complete 
 
 At this his royal limbs half bent beneath him as Far better give two starving men your butter-brose 
 
 he stood. to eat." 
 
The\- entered the low cottage door — the prisoner 
 
 and the king — 
 And Lisbeth made all haste a huge great bowl to 
 
 fill and bring ; 
 But first she locked up all her spoons, within an 
 
 oaken chest, 
 Except one only ; that she placed before her royal 
 
 guest. 
 
 " No Southron shall taste bit or drop beneath my 
 
 roof," she cried. 
 Her fierj' zeal amused the king, who generously 
 
 replied, 
 " Brave dame, thou knowest this land is mine, the 
 
 hill beyond is fair ; 
 The valley in front is fertile — see, thy sheep are 
 
 cropping there ; 
 
 " Well, I will make thee lady of all that with thy 
 
 nimble feet 
 Thou canst run round at thy best pace while I my 
 
 breakfast eat." 
 She bound her hair about her head, stood poised 
 
 as if for flight, 
 " Now, woman's speed," cried Robert Bruce, 
 
 " 'gainst a king's appetite ! " 
 
 Away she sped ; the track about the hill was stony 
 
 and rough ; 
 She heeded not; to her it seemed easy and smooth 
 
 enough. 
 On, on, through dew and drench, until she neared 
 
 her home once more. 
 And jjaused a moment on the step to peep within 
 
 the door. 
 
 And there the king and vanquished knight, helmets 
 
 and swords off. ate 
 Her porridge, sharing bowl and spoon between 
 
 them alternate. 
 " Fair play, my liege, fair play ! " she cried, and 
 
 even while he heard. 
 ■W'as off again, round farm and field, swift as a 
 
 homeward bird. 
 
And to this day in Galloway they hold that royal 
 
 dole. 
 But keep as their best heritage King Robert 
 
 Bruce 's bowl. 
 
 The bowl was large, a single spoon made chival- 
 rous eating slow ; 
 
 And Lisbeth's feet were fleet as long as she might 
 choose to go. 
 
 Far, far! the circuit that she made wide acres did 
 enclose, 
 
 While Scot and Southron changed about the spoon 
 and butter-brose. 
 
 And when along the flaming east the fires of sun- 
 rise burned, 
 
 And the gude-wife with drabbled limbs and scant 
 of breath returned. 
 
 The bowl was empty 'tween the two : quoth Robert 
 Bruce to her. 
 
 " My loyal dame, when Scottish kings shall pass 
 the river Urr 
 
 " Hereafter, let their sovereign pride honor a stead- 
 fast soul 
 
 Bv eating peasant butter-brose out of King Robert's 
 bowl. 
 
 Be it kept precious, passing down through chil- 
 dren's children's hands, 
 
 As, free from fee or tithe, they hold thy valorously- 
 earned lands. 
 
 " Thine, rendered as thy king's own gift, thine and 
 
 thy heirs, as long 
 As lives the name of Robert Bruce in story or in 
 
 sonsf." 
 
V. 
 A BALLAD OF KENILWORTH. 
 
 A Sojiveuir of Sir Walter Scott. 
 
A gray-haired ^\anderer sat and mused, 
 
 With chin upon his staff ; 
 A spiral stair, that led nowhere. 
 
 Sent back a schoolboy's laugh. 
 
 < 
 
 6 LAf^ 
 
 ^:^.^] 
 
 And in I saw the proud Queen Bess 
 
 Upon her palfrey ride, 
 And Leicester dight like royal knight. 
 
 Careering at her side. 
 
I watched her in the grotto glide, 
 Behind the coppiced screen ; 
 
 And wlien with talk, along the wall 
 Came Leicester, with the Queen, 
 
 
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 ^^l 
 
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 7 
 
 & 
 
 ^% 
 
 c^. 
 
 Ci 
 
 ^t^ 
 
 — A girl as fair as Amy's self, 
 
 Here broke upon my trance, 
 And put to rout with merry shout 
 
 My vision of romance. 
 
 " Why ! ■we've been wandering up and down, 
 
 And searching for an hour ; 
 And find you now asleep, I \'ow. 
 
 In Amy Robsarl's Tower ! " 
 
 Her mirthful voice dissolved the spell 
 
 (^More potent than the Earl's), 
 And looking round, I only found 
 
 A band of saucy girls. 
 
 The sun was hastening down t"ne west, 
 
 And from the crannied nooks 
 I heard the caws of noisy daws, 
 
 And saw the wheeling rooks. 
 
 But on Sir Walter's pictured page 
 Sweet Amy does not seem 
 
 To walk again in life, as when 
 She crossed mv waking dream. 
 
 2 f.' ^- S^^Ji'i 
 
 ^i^0J^ 
 
 
VI. 
 THE MISSION TEA-PARTY. 
 
 A Souvenir of Havclock and Lite know. 
 

 ////iSi.aKimlfm 
 
 THE war in the East had ended; 
 Its terrors were past, they said; 
 There was peace, once more, for the living, 
 And peace for the valiant dead. 
 
 ""Through the splendid squares of Lucknow 
 
 The Highlanders marched again ; 
 The heroes of fortress and jungle, 
 Brave Havelock's peerless men ! 
 
 Ay ! open your gates, O Lucknow ! — 
 But measure, ye guards, your breath, 
 
 As ye think of those days, an hundred, 
 When Ha\elock marched with death. 
 
 They had freed the beleaguered city, 
 Fouglit step by step through the vale ; 
 
 And swept from the shore of the Ganges 
 Forever the Sepoy's trail. 
 
 Then welcome them hack with rejoicing, 
 O minaret, tower and shrine ! 
 
 For these are the men who saved you. 
 Whose glory outlasteth thine ! 
 
Throufjh the streets swept the colors ot Knglanci, 
 
 IJorne proudly aloft on the air ; 
 Wiiile the "throne land of Rama " re-echoed 
 
 The Christian's thanksgiving and prayer. 
 
 Ot tiie pain, the hunger, the thirsting. 
 The death in the jungle's gloom ; 
 
 The rescue of woman and children, 
 Threatened with direful doom. 
 
 mi. 
 
 
 And blithest: of all were the pipers. 
 
 Their tartan plaids streaming in pride, 
 
 As they woke, on the banks of the Goomtee, 
 The airs of the Doon and Clyde. 
 
 And she said, " I will spread them a banquet. 
 With a touch of the homeland cheer. 
 
 And the welcome their mothers would give them, 
 Afar in the heatherlands dear. 
 
 Then the heart of one beautiful woman 
 Was stirred by an impulse sweet, 
 
 .\s she thought of the long, forced marches, 
 The weary and blood-stained feet ; 
 
 " Not for twice twelve months have they tasted 
 
 A simple cupful of tea ! 
 I will serve it to-day for the heroes 
 
 Who periled their lives for me ! 
 
" Bid them come to the courts of the Mission ! ' 
 
 Gay awnings were hastily hung; 
 While on tripods of curious fashion, 
 
 The teakettles merrilv swung ; 
 
 Swung and sung songs of tiie homeland ; 
 
 Familiar and sweet were the tunes. 
 As if winds of the loch and the mountain 
 
 Blew soft through the Indian noons. 
 
 At the old gray gate of the .Mission, 
 'Xeath turret and watchtowers high, 
 
 Where the dusk-eyed Indian Princess 
 Had dreamed in the days gone by. 
 
 She fastened the tartan of Scotland 
 
 With the thistle-bloom over her breast ; 
 
 And her own little winsome daughter 
 In the bonny bright plaid she drest. 
 
 This fair-faced, brave-hearted woman, 
 A stranger from lands of the West, 
 
 To the ancient, palace and gardens 
 Welcomed each war-worn guest. 
 
And with Highland bonnets uplifted, 
 There under the Hindoo palm, 
 
 The soldiers of Havelock listened 
 To the Hebrew's glorious psalm : 
 
 Served with the grace and the bounty 
 
 Of royal fete and of feast. 
 To the tattered and smoke-grimed heroes, 
 
 In halls of the storied East. 
 
 Note. — This incident was related to the 
 aiithoi- by Dr. William Butler, American Mis- 
 sionary in India during the Sepoy Rebellion. 
 
 The event occurred when Havelock's Bri- 
 gade had returned to Lucknow, to take up 
 their line of march for the .Afghan frontier. 
 
 " Thou w'entest before thy people, 
 And kings of armies did flee !" 
 
 Then merrily under the shadows 
 They drank of the fragrant tea, 
 
 And many a battle-scarred soldier 
 Let fall from a glistening eye 
 
 Hot tears on the haiKl of his hostess 
 For whom he had thought to die. 
 
 And for her was the Highlander's blessing 
 Breathed low in that tenderer scene 
 
 When the pipers, proud in their places, 
 Plaved grandlv — "God save the Queen!' 
 
VII. 
 EDENHALL 
 
 A West of England Folk-Tale. 
 
•EDEL-NI- 
 
 Ncm', when you knock at that same oak 
 A sober old Goody of some threescore 
 Comes primly forth in a cap and shawl, 
 And shows you Edenhall. 
 
 Old chairs, old settles, a mighty jack 
 For the roasting of beeves, a dungeon bla 
 The heir's quaint cradle, the rusty pall 
 Of the Lords of Edenhall. 
 
 And chiefest of all its treasures, stands, 
 Safe-hidden from intermeddling hands, 
 In a guarded cupboard built into the wr 
 The " Luck " of Edenhall. 
 
 'Tis an oddly-shaped goblet, strong and 
 Enamelled by some glass-working trick 
 Unknown to our modern craft — that's all 
 This " Luck " of Edenhall. 
 
 They say it was made by the fairies' selves 
 And used at the banquets of the elves 
 \\'hen their King and their Queen held carnival 
 In the woods of Edenhall. 
 
VIII. 
 KING OLEG'S CROWN. 
 
 A Russia};. Folk-Talc. 
 
m^^ilMf 
 
 By Mrs. Louise T. Craigin. 
 
 FROM Finland to Azov, Ochotsk to Obe, 
 There's tumult and turmoil on land and on sea ; 
 You'd think all creation was turned upside down — 
 King Oleg of Russia has lost his gold crown ! 
 
 They say the King cut off the chancellor's head ; 
 They say the old chamberlain tumbled down dead ; 
 The guards in the palace, in five minutes' space, 
 Were straight to Siberia sent in disgrace ! 
 
 The fault was not theirs ; but, if matters go ill, 
 'Tis certain that some one must foot up the bill ; 
 If kings can't be censured for mischief they've done, 
 There must be found shoulders to laj' it upon ! 
 
 Did robbers force open the great castle gate ? 
 Did burglars break in and then stealthily wait. 
 And, spite of stout bars, iron bolts and steel locks, 
 Bear off from the palace King Oleg's strong box ? 
 
 Ah, no ! Tho' 'tis treason to say it, I fear, 
 Nor burglar nor midnight marauder came near. 
 No robber gained entrance. If truth must be told. 
 King Oleg himself lost the big crown of gold ! 
 
 A long while ago, on the night of his birth. 
 Was seen a great comet approaching the earth; 
 And now, once again, the astrologers wise 
 Discover strange portents aloft in the skies. 
 
The horoscope old they ponder anew. 
 They find, past a question, the comet is due 
 About this same season ; and with it, 'tis clear, 
 Misfortune and trouble must surely appear. 
 
 King Oleg this comet resolved to espy ; 
 He held his big spy-glass up close to his eye. 
 And he sat in his great chair of state upright, 
 Hiscrownon his head, througli the livelong night. 
 
 He napped and he nodded ; but each time he woke. 
 Straight out of the window his head he could poke. 
 — It wasn't so easy to balance that crown ! 
 It seemed ev'ry instant it must topple down, 
 
 For each time he twisted his head in the search, 
 Tho' too sleepy to know it, the crown gave a lurch. 
 Now crowns, to look stately, should always stand 
 
 square, 
 For if not, they give one a scandalous air, 
 
 The sensible Queen in her white-ruffled cap 
 Woke again and again from a warm cosey nap, 
 " Do take off that big crown, dear Oleg," she said, 
 " And, too, you would be better off in your bed ! 
 
 " I never could see why your crown )'ou would wear, 
 When there's nobody round but just me to care ! " 
 " Because you're a woman ; it's quite plain to me : 
 A king wears his crown for his ov.n dignity ! " 
 
 The wind it was high and the night it was cold. 
 The King felt the frost through his ermine and gold ; 
 He rubbed his nose smartly, for fear it would freeze, 
 Then shivered and shook, and then gave a big 
 sneeze ! 
 
hum- '^N^.^-rJ>'^'J-'^Of 'i 
 
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 "•"•t-. 
 
 I 7 
 
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 M t 
 
 1'./ 
 
 
 Ah, fatal that sneeze for the great Russian crown ! 
 It trembled and tottered, and then tumbled down ; 
 It bumped, and it bounced from the wall to the 
 
 ditch, 
 And fell at the feet of an old wrinkled witch. 
 
 Loud sounded the trumpets ; the news through the 
 
 land 
 Flew fast, and each courtier in grief wrung his hand. 
 It was "oh," it was "ah," and they tore at their hair, 
 While Oleg himself was half-crazed witli ilespair. 
 
 They siuiimoned the cunning, the star-gazing men, 
 In hopes by their wisdom to find it again — 
 Arabian, Persian, Chaldee and Chinese ! 
 As well, for advice, have consulted the geese I 
 
 In throngs they came trooping, North, South, East 
 
 and West ; 
 Some horoscopes drew, and some quietly guessed. 
 But each one was round-eyed, and grave as an owl, 
 And nodded as sagely as that learned fowl. 
 
 Quite strange to relate, they at last all agreed, 
 Tlien sent to King Oleg their verdict with speed. 
 To make it more mystic they put it in verse, 
 And muttered in Sanscrit, " It might have been 
 worse ! 
 
 " Wlicn from an old crone comes again your i^ohl crown. 
 Though all of your courtiers should grimace and fnmm, 
 And though humble the goose-girl by whom it zvas won, 
 Right there on the spot she shall tna?-ry your son." 
 
 She picked up the glittering circlet of gold; The King then commanded the heralds to stand 
 
 Her big woollen apron in many a fold .^nd blow from each corner the news thro' the 
 
 She wrapped round her treasure without more land, 
 
 delay, That the maids of Russia of every degree, 
 
 And then, undiscovered, soft trotted away. Might search if they would, all diligently. 
 
'• A maiden I'm seeking whose tidy and iitat, 
 To milk and make butter, and cut up my peat, 
 To dust and to sweep, and to go to the mill, 
 And care for my geese when I'm bu^y or ill." 
 
 Then Drontha said quickly, "Take me for your 
 
 maid, 
 
 Of hard work I am not in the least afraid." 
 'Twas stranc;e how thick goose-girls appeared on For Drontha the oracle kept in her mind, 
 
 each hand ! "For perhaps it is /who the crown shall find ! " 
 
 Old crones, too, for mistresses, came in demand ! 
 Small service they got, when their poor backs were ^^ 
 
 turned — 
 To hunt for that crown every girl's fingers burned. 
 
 Now Drontha and Dwina were fairest by far. One morning the crone waked her maid from her 
 Of all the goose-girls in the lands of the Czar ; sleep : 
 
 They herded their geese on the common all day, " The peat you must cut, you can dust, too, and sweep ; 
 
 And snapped their long whips if the geese dared to To Novgorod fair I am going to-day, 
 
 stray. And mind from the chimney you keep far awa)-." 
 
 Of course they both wondered whom fate w^ould decree The old crone had scarcely gone out of her sight. 
 
 To find the gold crown, and a princess to be. When Drontha began to poke round, left and right. 
 
 " I wish some old crone would take me for her maid ! " At last she climbed up on the high bacon rack. 
 
 Sighed Drontha. That instant a voice grufifly said. And found in the chimney a black sheepskin sack. 
 
Then quickly she seized it and quicker jumped down ; 
 She danced high for joy as she felt of the crown ; 
 With fingers that trembled, the knots she untied, 
 "Yes /'// wed Prince Iniar !" she eagerly cried. 
 
 Tlien safe in her apron the treasure she hid, 
 And under her jacket the golden crown slid. 
 She ran down the pathway that led to the wood, 
 For close to the forest the King's castle stood. 
 
 Right over the pathway a little gate hung. 
 And backward and forward it ceaselessly swung. 
 It creaked and it squeaked, and it mournfully sighed. 
 It moaned and it groaned, and it plaintively cried : 
 
 •' Please shut me and latch me, I pray, pretty maid, 
 It hurts my back badly to swing so," it said. 
 "The Prince Fm to marry, you'll just have to swing. 
 I can't stop to bother for such a small thing ! " 
 
 While crossing the meadow, she met the red cow : 
 " Pray stop, pretty maiden, and please milk me now ! " 
 " I'm in a great hurry," replied the rude maid, 
 "I can't stop for trifles — the Prince I'm to wed." 
 
 As Drontha came near to the foot of the hill, 
 She heard a low voice from the old water-mill : 
 '■ O prav, prett)- maiden, just turn my big wheel ! 
 I'm tired of standing here silent and still ! ". 
 
 " Indeed I won't," Drontha then rudely replied ; 
 " For a nap in the hopper, Fm going to hide ; 
 And that is the reason I stopped here to-day ■ — ■ 
 To marry Prince Imar Fm now on my way." 
 
 Then into the hopper she gave a gay leap, 
 She hid in the corn, and she fell fast asleep. 
 To dream that she sat like a queen on a 
 throne, 
 n velvet and jewels that si:iarkled and shone. 
 
'I'lie crone returned home, and at once missed 
 
 the sack, 
 And soon started off on tlie naughty maid's track. 
 She trotted along till she came to the gate, 
 That, creaking and moaning, swung early and 
 
 " O gate o' mine, O gate o' mine, 
 Sa\-, have you seen that girl o' mine ?" 
 
 '• A rude girl passed an hour ago, 
 \\'ho left me swinging to and fro. " 
 
 "That's just my Drontha, the rude, rude maid, 
 'Twas she, I'm certain," the old crone said. 
 
 " O cow o' mine, O cow o' mine. 
 
 Say, have you seen that girl o' mine?" 
 
 '■ A rude girl passed an hour ago, 
 Wlio wouldn't milk me, that I know." 
 
 " That's just my Drontha, the rude, rude maid! 
 'Twas she, I'm certain," the old crone said. 
 
 '"O mill o' mine, O mill o' mine, 
 
 Sav, have you seen that girl o' mine } " 
 
 "A girl's in the hopper fast asleep, 
 
 \\'av down in the corn she's buried deep." 
 
 " That's just my Drontha, rude, lazy maid ! 
 'Tis she, I'm certain," the old crone said. 
 
 Then out of the hopper the old woman took her; 
 With all of her might and her main she shook her. 
 Till Drontha the crown dropped in terror and fright, 
 And ran without stopping till quite out of sight. 
 
 ,.^-x,Jr^h^ 
 
 ■^yr^ 
 
 ^' 
 
 ^:^ 
 
 The old woman put the gold crown in the sack, 
 And hid it again by the high bacon rack ; 
 Then off to the common she went with all speed. 
 Though sorry was she of a maid to have need. 
 
 There Dwina sat knitting and watching her 
 
 geese, 
 Her dinner beside her of black bread and cheese. 
 
 While round her the geese on one leg stood to rest ; 
 These words to the goose-herd, the old crone ad- 
 dressed : 
 
 " A maiden I'm seeking who is tidy and neat. 
 To milk and make butter, and cut up my peat, 
 To dust and to sweep, and to go to the mill. 
 And care for my geese when I'm busy or ill." 
 
Young Dwina spoke gently : "Your maid I will be; 
 Your work I'll endeavor to do faithfully. 
 I know how to milk, how to dust and to sweep, 
 And, if busy or ill, your geese I can keep." 
 
 " To Novgorod fair I am going, my dear ; 
 Cut plenty of peat, keep the fire burning clear ; 
 There's plenty of sweeping and dusting to-day, 
 But see that you keep from the chimney away." 
 
 The hut Dwina swept and made everything neat ; 
 She washed up the hearthstones and cut up the peat; 
 But the fire wouldn't burn, and the smoke filled the 
 
 hut, 
 So her broom-stick she took to clear out the soot. 
 
 She met on the meadow the poor lowing cow : 
 " I wish, pretty maiden, you i:o!</d m'i\k me now ' 
 " Indeed I will gladly," the little maid said. 
 She filled the big bucket, and then onward 
 she sped. 
 
 When lo I from the chimney there came tumbling 
 
 down 
 A black sheepskin sack with King Oleg's gold crown ! 
 Said Dwina, "This crown to the King ought to go ! 
 My way I can find to the castle, I know ! " 
 
 She came to the brook, where the old water-mill 
 Huskily said, "Please, to start my big w^heel." 
 "Indeed I will gladly," the little maid said. 
 She turned the big wheel, and then onward 
 she sped. 
 
 She came to the gate that still wearily hung: 
 " Please latch me. I'm tired, so long have I swung." 
 "Yes, that I will gladly," the young maiden said. 
 She latched the gate gently, and then onward 
 sped. 
 
 The old crone returned, and of course missed the sack. 
 She looked at the hearth, she examined the rack , 
 The hut was so tidy, so wholesome and sweet. 
 She said, "One thing's certain, young Dwina is 
 neat. 
 
" O gate o' mine, O gate o' mine, 
 Say, have you seen tliat girl o' mine ? " 
 
 " Only a lady have I seen, 
 
 Who very kind to me has been ! " 
 
 "Oh, that can never be my little maid. 
 She's only a goose-girl," the old crone said. 
 
 " O cow o' mine, O cow o' mine, 
 
 Say, have you seen that girl o' mine ? " 
 
 She came to the castle, and stood there amazed, 
 For joy bells were ringing, and bonfires blazed ; 
 Brass bands, too, were playing, and the people who 
 
 chose. 
 Were going to court in their best Sunday clothes. 
 
 And when the old crone said, "What does f.iis 
 
 mean?" 
 They shouted " King Oleg his crown has again ! 
 Prince Imar, young Dwina, the goose-herd, will wed, 
 For that's what the oracle plainly has said ! " 
 
 "Only a lady have I seen. 
 
 Who very kind to me has been ! ' 
 
 " Oh, that can never be my little maid. 
 She's only a goose-girl," the old crone said. 
 
 "O mill o' mine, O mill o' mine, 
 
 Say, have you seen that girl o' mine .■' " 
 
 "Only a lady have I seen, 
 
 Who very kind to me has been ! " 
 
 " Oh, that can never be my little maid. 
 She s only a goose-girl," the old crone said. 
 
 " I'm glad," said the crone, " and I am not sur- 
 prised 
 ( She was really a fairy quite closely disguised): 
 Prince Imar no worthier Princess could find, 
 For Dwina's obliging, neat, courteous and kind." 
 
 Her words were the truth, whether fairy or crone; 
 For of all the Czars that have sat on the throne. 
 Nor annals, nor legends, before then or since. 
 Can tell of a happier Princess and Prince. 
 
IX. 
 LITTLE PEACHLING. 
 
 A Japanese Folk-Lore Story. 
 
AT tlie foot of the Golden Dragon Hill, 
 Long ages ago, in a snug little house 
 With a roof of dark-brown, velvety thatch. 
 There lived an old woodman and his spouse. 
 
 One morning, his bill-hook the old man took : 
 "To the mountain, to cut me a fagot, I'll hie. 
 
 While you, O Koyo, the linen can wash 
 In the river which rushes and gurgles by." 
 
 Oh, the merry old man to the mountain hied, 
 Past young rice-fields in the morning sun, 
 
 Toward the dark fir-trees on the mountain side, 
 Standing forth in its silence, every one. 
 
 From wild camelias and white plum-trees. 
 
 In his twinkling old eyes the spider-webs swung; 
 
 And he merrily brushed by the green bamboos, 
 With his bill-hook over his shoulder hunir. 
 
 ang in a tall cherry-tree 
 As the smiling old wife to the river-side went : 
 " Oh, red is the sun," she cheerily sang. 
 As she patiently over her washing bent. 
 
 "Oh, red is the sun ; and the rice-fields green — 
 Now what is that in the river I see ? 
 
 It's the rosiest peach in the whole of Jajsan ; 
 And it's coming a-floating, a-floating to me. 
 
 " Now here is a feast for my darling old man. 
 Oh, the Great Shogun not a finer can get ! 
 
 Some stewed lih'-bulbs, and this beautiful peach, 
 Wlien he comes from toil, before him I'll set." 
 
 J 
 
Soon clown from the mountnin llie old man cainc, 
 And fast on his back his fagot was boiuul. 
 
 " Oh, liasten you, husband," liis loving wife cried, 
 " And taste this beautiful peach that I found ! " 
 
 But just as lie took it the peach split in twain, 
 And a fat little baby with raven-black hair 
 
 \Vas cradled right in the heart of the peach. 
 And lay a-twinkling and blinking there. 
 
 "Oh you brave little boy, you shall be our own son 
 And Moniotaro shall have for a name, 
 
 Or Little Peachling, since out of a peach. 
 
 You dear little fellow, this morning you came." 
 
 The rice-fields blossomed for twenty more years, 
 While the gurgling old river amongst them ran ; 
 
 For twenty more years grew the slim bamboo. 
 And Little Peachling was grown to a man. 
 
 " Some millet dumpluigs priA make for me," 
 To his good foster mother lie said one da}-, 
 
 " \nd off to the ogres' castle I'll go, 
 
 \nd the whole of their treasure will bring awa)^ 
 
 "As thick in the ogres' treasure-vaults 
 The jewels are lying as sea-shore sands ; 
 
 With blue snow-gates on the mountain-top, 
 The ogres' castle all proudly stands — 
 
 " With blue snow-gates that are stronger than steel ; 
 
 But I will enter, and will bring to you 
 The wealth from the ogres' treasure-vaults. 
 
 Hung over with pearls, like flowers with dew." 
 
 " I have made you the dumplings," his good mother 
 said, 
 
 " But I fear lest the ogres should do you a harm." 
 But the Little Peachling danced gayly away. 
 
 With the millet-dumplings under his arm. 
 
A dog ]eapt out of a cluster ot pines : 
 
 " And what have you there, Little Peacli 
 ling, pray? " 
 
 " The best millet-dumplings in all Japa.i, 
 And I'm to the ogres' castle away." 
 
 " For one of your dumplings with you I'll go 
 And the ogres' castle will help subdue." 
 
 '•Well, you can bark at the castle-gate; 
 So here is a dumpling, friend dog, for you.' 
 
 ^v^^^^ 
 
 
 "One of your dumplings pray give *;Ot:.n.e, 
 
 And the ogres' castle I'll help suu..; 
 '■ M'ell, you can climb o'er the castle-wall ; 
 
 So here is a dumpling, friend ape, for you." 
 
 " Ken, kai,'" cried a pheasant, " and what have you 
 there. 
 
 Little Peachling, tucked in your girdle, I pray?" 
 " The best millet-dumplings in all Japan, 
 
 And I'm to the ogres' castle away." 
 
 "For one of your dumplings with you I'll go, 
 And the ogres' castle will help subdue." 
 
 " Well, you can fly o'er the castle-gate ; 
 
 So here is a dumpling, friend pheasant, for you."' 
 
 Oil. the castle stood high on the mountain-top, 
 .\nd over its turrets a hurricane blew ; 
 
 r.ut I'p to its terrible blue snow-gate*^ 
 
 Little Peachling marched with his retinue. 
 
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 Then the ogres swaniied out on the castle-towers, 
 The drums beat loud, and the trumpets brayed, 
 
 And magical arrows came rustling around — 
 But our brave little ronin was not afraid. 
 
 For his pheasant flew over the castle-wall, 
 And his ape, he undid the castle-gate ; 
 
 And brave Little Peachling, with the barking dog, 
 Marched into the ogres' castle in state. 
 
 His little dog snapped at the ogres' heels ; 
 
 His pheasant picked at their round green eyes; 
 And his ape tweaked away at the ogres' locks. 
 
 As only an ape can do when he tries. 
 
 And the little ronin, around him he laid. 
 With his niuramasa, so thick and fast, 
 
 That the king of the ogres was prisoner made ; 
 And the ogres' castle was taken at last. 
 
 Oh measures of pearls and wedges of gold ! 
 
 Oh the jars of musk and the coral-bars ! 
 Amber and emeralds, tortoise-shells, 
 
 And diamonds shining like strings of stars ! 
 
 Gold-brocade coats, and wonderful gems 
 
 That regulated the green sea-tide ! 
 It's always the loveliest things in the world 
 
 Which the treasure-castles of ogres hide. 
 
 Witli the treasures, the dog, the pheasant and ape, 
 Little Peachling home to his parents ran ; 
 
 And the old wood-cutter and his loving wife 
 Were the happiest couple in all Japan. 
 
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X. 
 
 THE FAIRY FLAG. 
 
 An Isle of Skye Folk-Tale. 
 
THE FAIRY FLAG. 
 
 [A Siye Folk-lore Story.) 
 
 By Mary E. Wilkins. 
 
 BEYOND the purple gloom of moors, 
 Beyond the blueness of the sea, 
 Beyond the range of chalk-white cliffs, 
 The sun was setting peacefully. 
 
 The fairy, on a grassy knoll, 
 
 Sat dreaming, singing to the cows: 
 
 " Kncc-dcep in clumps of p/umy ferns, 
 Kncc-dccp in rustling grasses browse/ 
 
 " The chieftain slays Ids focmati s clan, 
 The lady 'hroiders in the hall ; 
 
 I sit here singing to the cows. 
 And am the gayest one of all ! 
 
 " Now of the clumps of spicy fern, 
 No7i} of the juicy grasses taste f" 
 
 The fairy wore a grass-green gown, 
 With golden girdle at her waist; 
 
 Her winsome little face upturned, 
 
 Her soft gold hair all round her streamed; 
 Her small pink cheeks like roses burned, 
 
 Her wild blue eyes like jewels beamed. 
 
 She struck a little harp o' pearl, 
 As to the browsing kine she sung: 
 
 All lightly o'er the fairy bridge 
 Beyond, a bonnie laddie sprung. 
 
 He had Prince Charlie's yellow locks, 
 His gay blue eyes and lovesome way: 
 
 Macleod's little son he was — 
 The castle just beyond him lay. 
 
 'Sr-v 
 
 The fairy lilted loud and sweet, 
 
 The laddie turned him round to see; 
 
 She lifted up her little face, 
 
 And sweet, and sweet, and sweet, smiled she. 
 
The laddie thro' the heather ran, 
 His tartan blowing out behind, 
 
 The little fairy, gowned in green, 
 Wi' little harp o' pearl, to find. 
 
 "And since you are a mortal bairn, 
 
 And yet have shunned me not,'' she said, 
 
 " A fairy gift I'll give to thee. 
 To-morrow, when the west is red. 
 
 "And since you have a bonny face, 
 
 I'll give to thee a fairy kiss, 
 To take the bitter from thy woe, 
 
 And add a sweetness to thy bliss." 
 
 She kissed the laddie's blushing cheek. 
 And all the air grew sweet around. 
 
 As if a million flowers bloomed out — 
 And than she vanished from the ground 
 
 The western sky all roses was. 
 
 And round "Macleod's ?.Iaiden"s" feet 
 Foam-wreaths to wreaths of roses turned. 
 
 The fairv lilted loud and sweet; 
 
 The flag was green as springtide sward 
 What time the sun upon it lies. 
 
 And shot with threads of glittering gold, 
 And filled with spots of gold, like eyes. 
 
 The laddie o'er the fairy bridge. 
 Came running lightly to her side: 
 
 " And have you brought the fairy gift 
 You promised me last night ? " he cried. 
 
 She put it in the laddie's hand: 
 
 "Once waved, "twill bring thee thv desire. 
 And twice, and thrice — but not again; 
 
 Then cast it, worthless, in the fire!" 
 
A shadow o'er her gown o' green, 
 A shadow o'er her winsome face, 
 
 A shadow o'er her golden hair, 
 Came softly creeping on apace. 
 
 The laddie held the fairy flag. 
 Alone in twilight gray and cold ; 
 
 And stood and looked, his wond'ring eyes 
 All filled with dancing motes of rold. 
 
 The laddie's yellow beard had grown : 
 He'd wedded with a lady fair ; 
 
 And he had got a little son, 
 
 With his same bonnie yellow hair. 
 
 And ahvay had the fairy's kiss, 
 She ga\'e to him so long ago. 
 
 Added a sweetness to his bliss, 
 And ta'en the bitter from his woe. 
 
But never yet the fair\' flag 
 
 Had waved upon the castle wall; 
 For with his stalwart arm and sword. 
 
 His troubles he had breasted all. 
 
 Macleod called his followers out, 
 And loud the castle trumpets blew 
 
 " Macleod"s heir is strayed awa". 
 And on the heather falls the dew. 
 
 "And on the heather falls the dew; 
 
 Shadows are floating o'er the sea. 
 Oh, Where's my little laddie gone ? — 
 
 I pray ye bring him back to me ! " 
 
 They searched along the chalk-white clift's, 
 Upon the dizzy lianging paths; 
 
 They sought him on their breezy tops, 
 Along the strips of grassy straths. 
 
The)- called "Macleod " down the hill; 
 
 They called "Macleod " down the vale 
 They hailed the shepherd wilh his flock, 
 
 The maiden with her milking-pail. 
 
 His mother looked out o'er the sea, 
 To where " Macleod's Maidens " stand, 
 
 To see, above the foam-wreaths, rise 
 His yellow head and waving hand. 
 
 The laddie came not; and the moon 
 With all the stars sailed out in sight • 
 
 " Macleod's Tables," tops of snow, 
 Were cloth of silver in her light. 
 
 "Bring out, bring out the fairy flag! 
 
 I'll wave it from the topmost tower! 
 There'll come no direr need than this — 
 
 Macleod's race has lost its flow-erl" 
 
I-T^:-^'^' 
 
 Macleod waved the fairy Hag; 
 
 ll looked a net of golden wire; 
 Its streaks, of jjold and spots of gold, 
 
 All linked and curled like tongues of fire. 
 
 There came a twang o' pearlic harp, 
 There came a lilting loud and sweet; 
 
 And softly o'er the fairy bridge 
 
 There came the dance o' slender feet. 
 
 All day the chief had held the field. 
 Nor quailed until the sun sank low; 
 
 His followers, bleeding, round him lay, 
 And he was hemmed in by the foe. 
 
 There danced along the fairy bridge 
 A spot i' the golden light apace ; 
 
 The laddie at the castle gate 
 Stood lifting up his bonnie face. 
 
 " Oh, life is sweet ! " Macleod thought 
 " I love my bairn and lady dear : 
 
 ril wave again the fairy flag — 
 Oh, will it bring me succor here !" 
 
 "Oh, I ha' wandered by the burn, 
 And I ha' wandered by the glen ; 
 
 A little leddy all in green," 
 
 He said, " has led me home again." 
 
 Macleod waved the fairy flag — 
 
 His foemen reeled back at the sight; 
 
 For in their cruel eyes there danced 
 Great spots and bars of golden light. 
 
 Macleod furled the fairy flag: 
 
 " Ye've served me once in blessed stead ■ 
 But sorely I'll be pressed again 
 
 Ere I will wave ye twice ! " he said. 
 
 There came a _twang o' pearlie harp, . 
 
 There came a lilting loud and sweet : 
 Macleod's foemen turned and fled, 
 
 The hills all rang with flying feet. 
 
Macleod furled the fairy flag : 
 
 " Ye've served me twice in blessed steaci — 
 But I shall in the churchyard lie 
 
 Ere I will wave ye thrice!" he said. 
 
 The hand that waved the fairj' flag, 
 The lips the fairy kissed, are still ; 
 
 Macleod in the churchyard lies, 
 
 And deaf to lilting sweet and shrill. 
 
 But still his kin in misty Skye 
 The fairy flag in keeping hold ; 
 
 And sometime from" the castle wall 
 May flash its spots and bars of gold. 
 
 "For. if I thrice should wave the flag. 
 And thrice should get my heart's desire ; 
 
 Next day might come a sorer need,. 
 When it was ashes in the fire." 
 
 Macleod kept his word : he fought 
 For life on many a bloody plain, 
 
 He tossed in peril on the sea. 
 Nor waved the fairy flag again. 
 
 But dire indeed shall be the need, 
 . And every other hope be slain, 
 Ere a Macleod of the Isle 
 
 Shall wave the fairj' flag again. 
 
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