Fairy Tales in Prose and Verse: Selected from Early and Recent Literature (Google eBook)

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William James Rolfe
Harper & Bros., 1889 - Readers - 187 pages
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Page 112 - 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...
Page 35 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch*. When owls do cry, '} \ On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Page 147 - But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of light His reign of peace upon the earth began...
Page 2 - 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.
Page 33 - A LITTLE fairy comes at night, Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown, With silver spots upon her wings, And from the moon she flutters down. She has a little silver wand, And when a good child goes to bed She waves her hand from right to left, And makes a circle round its head.
Page 128 - I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows ; Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine...
Page 77 - TENNANT'S ANSTER FAIR. ?' I MS the middle watch of a Summer's night The earth is dark, but the heavens are bright ; Naught is seen in the vault on high But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky, And the flood which rolls its milky hue, A river of light on the welkin blue. The moon looks down on old Cronest; She mellows the shades on his shaggy breast, And seems his huge gray form to throw In a silver cone on the wave below...
Page 112 - Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces of the smallest spider's web, The collars of the moonshine's watery beams...
Page 150 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Page 78 - Who sleeps with him in the haunted tree, To bid him ring the hour of twelve, And call the fays to their revelry ; Twelve small strokes on his tinkling bell ('Twas made of the white snail's pearly shell,) " Midnight comes, and all is well ! Hither, hither, wing your way ! 'Tis the dawn of the fairy day.

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