THE FAIRY CHILD.*

BY DR. ANSTER,

Translator of "Faust," &c.

THE summer sun was sinking

With a mild light, calm and mellow;
It shone on my little boy's bonny cheeks,
And his loose locks of yellow.

The robin was singing sweetly,

And his song was sad and tender;

And my little boy's eyes, while he heard the song,
Smiled with a sweet soft splendour.

My little boy lay on my bosom

While his soul the song was quaffing,
The joy of his soul had tinged his cheek,
And his heart and his eye were laughing.

I sate alone in my cottage,

The midnight needle plying;

I feared for my child, for the rush's light
In the socket now was dying!

There came a hand to my lonely latch,
Like the wind at midnight moaning;

I knelt to pray, but rose again,

For I heard my little boy groaning.

I crossed my brow and I crossed my breast,
But that night my child departed-

They left a weakling in his stead,

And I am broken-hearted!

Oh! it cannot be my own sweet boy,
For his eyes are dim and hollow,
My little boy is gone-is gone,

And his mother soon will follow!

*The woman, in whose character these lines are written, supposes her chila stolen by a fairy. I need not mention how prevalent the superstition was among the peasantry, which attributed instances of sudden death to the agency of these spirits.

The dirge for the dead will be sung for me,
And the mass be chaunted meetly,
And I shall sleep with my little boy,
In the moonlight churchyard sweetly.

THE OLDEN TIME.

My blessing rest upon thee, thou merry olden time,

When the fairies were in fashion, and the world was in its prime; Every ruin had its goblin, every green rath had its fay,

Till the light of Science chased them from their ancient haunts

away.

How rich wert thou in legends, of magic lamps and ring-
Of genii, whom a single word to mortal aid would bring;
Of caves of gold and diamonds, where foot had never been,
Till by the favoured one their depths were all unveiled and seen.

Thou wert the time for monarchs—then kings were kings indeed,
With potent fairy sponsors to summon at their need;
Whose wands could change their enemies to marble at their will:
Ah, many a king would need to have those wands of power still!

Oh, cruel race of stepmothers! where have you vanished now ?
Where are the henpecked husbands who before you used to bow,
And yield their lovely daughters to glut your jealous ire,
Forgetful, 'mid your blandishments, of ev'n the name of sire?

Sweet beauteous persecuted tribe, princesses young and fair,
With faces like a poet's dreams, and veils of flowing hair,
Beloved by vile enchanters, who turned to stone and wood,
The princes who to rescue you dared steel, and fire, and flood.

Fierce cannibalish giants, who dwelt in forests wild,
And worn and weary wayfarers to darksome dens beguiled;
Brave knights with charmed weapons, who laid the monsters low,
And opening wide the dungeon doors, bid cease the captive's woe.

Where are you all departed?—where lie your treasures hid?
Where are the pearls and emeralds that came when they were bid?
Where are the mines of gold and gems, that but to think of now,
Dazzles our mental eyes with light-Old World, where art thou?

We want those endless riches, we want the magic spells,

That brought the fairies to your aid, from woods, and hills, and

wells;

We've no enchanters now-a-day, no cabalistic flames—

The world has lost them all, and keeps but their time-honoured

names.

Oh, could I find a magic wand, I'd bring those days again—
I'd call the treasures from the caves of earth and throbbing main;
The land should be a glorious land, as 'twas in ancient time,
When the fairies were in fashion and the world was in its prime.

TINY.

Legendary Ballads.

FIONN.

BY EDWARD KENEALY.

LIGHTLY through the forest glancing, like an arrow sharp and fleet,

Flies a doe of milk-white beauty, with black eyes and twinkling feet. O'er the glades that laugh in sunshine, through the dells that sleep in shade,

Darts the doe of milk-white beauty, like a little trembling maid.

Quickly rose the mighty Fionn, and he called his faithful hounds, Bran and Sgolan, and they hurried when they heard the wellknown sounds.

Through the forest-through the forest, in pursuit the monarch hies,

While the milk-white doe of beauty still before him ever flies.

The morning sun shone sweetly when the wondrous chase began. The evening sun descended, yet still followed dogs and man, Through the many woodland windings, o'er the forest's grassy floor,

While the milk-white doe of beauty was before them evermore.

Till they came to old Slieve-Guillin the white doe before them flew; When they came to old Slieve-Guillin then she vanished from

their view;

East and west looked mighty Fionn, north and south the monarch gazed,

Sweet and broken was the baying by his sad hounds wildly raised.

From the deep heart of a valley, by a silver-bosomed lake, Strains of plaintive sorrow wander, and the forest echoes wake; Wild and mournful was the music as it struck the monarch's ears, And the voice to which he listen'd, seem'd a voice of sobs and tears.

By the still and gentle waters where the weeping willows twined,
He beheld a beauteous ladye on the lonely bank reclined;
Her wild blue eyes were swollen with the big tears of despair,
And adown her neck of lilies hung her long dishevell'd hair.

Like the queenly cygnet sailing o'er the water's crystal breast,
Like the rosy light of evening when the sun is in the west,
Like a freezing star of brightness when the heavens are fair to see,
Was the sad and beauteous ladye as she sang beneath the tree.

"Oh say, thou beauteous ladye," thus outspake the noble chief, "Whence comes thy great affliction? whence proceeds thy song of grief?

Hast thou wandered in this wild wood-hast thou wandered from y?

thy way

Or can knightly succour aid thee, O enchanting ladye say?"

Then outspake the lovely ladye smiling through her tears of woe, "Gentle chieftain, noble chieftain, since my sorrows thou would'st know,

In the well of yonder lake there lies a jewel rich and rare,
A ring of gold with diamonds set, which once my finger ware.

"A ring of gold more dearly loved than I do love mine eyes,
A ring which more than aught on earth my foolish wishes prize-
Since rose the morning sunlight, I have wept the lake beside,
Gazing like a maid distracted on its waters deep and wide.

“Gentle chieftain, valiant chieftain, wilt thou find my ring for me? Wilt thou dive beneath the crystal waves and search them curiously?"____

Scarcely spake the beauteous ladye, when the brave and noble king

Plunged beneath the shining waters of the lake to find the ring.

On the sands that beamed like crystal lay the jewel glittering bright,

And it shone as shines a golden star, or gleams the moon at night;