Rhymes for the Young Folk. Allingham William

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      Up the airy mountain,

      Down the rushy glen,

      We daren'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 that 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 their sharpest thorns

      In his bed at night.

      Up the airy mountain,

      Down the rushy glen,

      We daren'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!

      An Elf sat on a twig,

      He was not very big,

      He sang a little song,

      He did not think it wrong;

      But he was on a Wizard's ground,

      Who hated all sweet sound.

      Elf, Elf,

      Take care of yourself!

      He's coming behind you,

      To seize you and bind you,

      And stifle your song.

      The Wizard! the Wizard!

      He changes his shape

      In crawling along,

      An ugly old ape,

      A poisonous lizard,

      A spotted spider,

      A wormy glider,

      The Wizard! the Wizard!

      He's up on the bough,

      He'll bite through your gizzard

      He's close to you now!

      The Elf went on with his song,

      It grew more clear and strong,

      It lifted him into air,

      He floated singing away,

      With rainbows in his hair;

      While the Wizard-worm from his creep

      Made a sudden leap,

      Fell down into a hole,

      And, ere his magic word he could say,

      Was eaten up by a Mole.

      "High on the hill-top

      The old King sits;

      He is now so old and gray

      He's nigh lost his wits."

      The Fairy King was old.

      He met the Witch of the Wold.

      "Ah ha, King!" quoth she,

      "Now thou art old like me."

      "Nay, Witch!" quoth he,

      "I am not old like thee."

      The King took off his crown,

      It almost bent him down;

      His age was too great

      To carry such a weight.

      "Give it here!" she said,

      And clapt it on her head.

      Crown sank to ground;

      The Witch no more was found.

      Then sweet spring-songs were sung,

      The Fairy King grew young,

      His crown was made of flowers,

      He lived in woods and bowers.

      Golden, golden,

      Light unfolding,

      Busily, merrily, work and play,

      In flowery meadows,

      And forest shadows,

      All the length of a Summer day!

      All the length of a Summer day!

      Sprightly, lightly,

      Sing we rightly,

      Moments brightly hurry away;

      Fruit-tree blossoms,

      And roses' bosoms, —

      Clear blue sky of a Summer day!

      Dear blue sky of a Summer day!

      Springlets, brooklets,

      Greeny nooklets,

      Hill and Valley, and salt sea-spray,

      Comrade rovers,

      Fairy lovers, —

      All the length of a Summer day

      All the livelong Summer day!

      Good-bye, good-bye to Summer!

      For Summer's nearly done;

      The garden smiling faintly,

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