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 TWO DISSERTATIONS: 
 
 1. ON PYGMIES. 
 
 2. ON FAIRIES. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOSEPH RITSON, ESQ 
 
 Fairv Elves V 
 
 Fairy Elves 
 Whose midnight revel, by a forest side. 
 Or fountain, some belated peasant sees. 
 Or dreams he sees; while over-head the moon 
 Sits arbitrcss, and nearer to the earth 
 Wheels her pale course ; they, on their mirth and dance 
 Intent, with jocund music charm his ear : 
 At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR PAYNE AND FOSS, PALL-MALL ; 
 
 WILLIAM PICKERING, CHANCERY-LANE j 
 BY THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS. 
 
 1831 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 Dissertation I., on Pygmies, 
 Dissertation II., on Fairies, 
 
 Page 
 
 I 
 11 
 
 FAIRY TALES. 
 
 
 1. Elidor, or the golden baU, 
 
 63 
 
 2. The silver cup, 
 
 66 
 
 3. The antipodes, 
 
 68 
 
 4. The cup-bearer, 
 
 70 
 
 5. Hutgin, 
 
 72 
 
 6. The pietl piper, 
 
 76 
 
 7. The shepherds dream, . . . . 
 
 79 
 
 8. Nymphidia : The Court of Fairy, 
 
 , 89 
 
 9. The fairy-prince, 
 
 119 
 
 10. The sow and pigs, . . . . 
 
 122 
 
 11. The changeling, .... 
 
 123 
 
 12. The Cornish fairies, 
 
 125 
 
 13. The white powder. 
 
 134 
 
 14. The Mautfu: Doogy 
 
 . , 137 
 
 15. A fairy feast, .... 
 
 140 
 
 16. The unfortunate fiddler, . 
 
 142 
 
 17. The fairy-elf, .... 
 
 144 
 
 18. The kidnappers .... 
 
 . 146 
 
 19. The luck of Eden-hall, 
 
 150 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 20. The mother, tlie nurse, and the fairy, 
 
 21. The whipping of the little girl, 
 
 22. The christening, 
 
 23. The horn, 
 
 24. The school-boys, 
 
 25. The bargain, . 
 
 26. Fairy-music, . 
 
 27. The porridge-pot, 
 
 28. The Welsh fairies, 
 21>. Kensington Garden 
 
 Page 
 152 
 154 
 156 
 158 
 160 
 162 
 164 
 166 
 168 
 169 
 
 FAIRY-SONGS. 
 
 1. Titanias Lullaby, by Shakspeare, 
 
 2. Imitation, 
 
 3. Pucks night address, 
 
 4. Queen Mabs invitation, 
 6. Robin Good-fellow, 
 6. The Fairys farewell, 
 
 191 
 192 
 193 
 195 
 198 
 204 
 
DISSERTATION I. 
 
 ON PYGMIES. 
 
 . -^- --:^ ■■^ 
 
 The existence of a little nation or^minutive 
 people engaged in, almost, continual wars with 
 the cranes, is an opinion of such high antiquity as 
 to be coeval with the rudiments of the heathen 
 mythology. Homer, who flourished 907 years be- 
 fore the vulgar aera, is, universally, admitted to be 
 the earliest poet whose works remain, and, though 
 totally blind and unable either to read or write 
 (no written characters being known to the Greeks 
 till many centuries after his time), he had recourse 
 to his invention and, with a harp in bis hand, 
 went about various countries, singing and playing, 
 as a bard or rhapsodist, and was well rewarded for 
 his poetical effusions, which being fabulous stories, 
 of his own composition, of gods, heroes, wars, 
 battles, sieges, voyages, adventures and miracles, 
 altogether incredible and im|K)ssible, and of persons, 
 things, cities and countries, which never existed, 
 
 B 
 
2 ON PYGMIKS. 
 
 but in his fertile invention and ingenious fabri- 
 cation, [and with] which every one who heard 
 him was delighted -, and, in process of time^ four 
 or five centuries after his death, when his country- 
 men, the learned Greeks, possessing admirable me- 
 mories and ' having,' some how or other, got an 
 alphabet and being made capable to read and write, 
 these delightful and ingenious compositions of our 
 blind bard have, fortunately, come down to the 
 present times, in the course of 2000 years or 
 upward. When, therefore, translations have be- 
 come common in, almost, every learned language, 
 particularly, in our own, of which we are possessed 
 of one so excellent that it has been, happily, 
 said : 
 
 So much, dear Pope, thy English Iliad charms, 
 When pity mehs us or when passion warms, 
 That after-ages shall, with wonder, seek 
 Who 'twas translated Homer into Greek : 
 
 we are at liberty to conceive that the account of 
 the Pygmies, as found in the Iliad, is there given 
 and preserved, from ancient and established tra- 
 dition and, possibly, recorded in history or cele- 
 brated in epic poetry, long before the time of 
 Homer : 
 
 \ So, when inclement winters vex the plain 
 
 With piercing frosts or thick-descending rain, 
 
ON PYGMIES. 3 
 
 To warmer seas the cranes embody'd fly, 
 With noise and order, through the mid- way sky. 
 To Pygmy nations wounds and death they bring 
 And all the war descends upon the wing *. 
 
 Hesiod, likewise, had mentioned the Pygmies, 
 in some work now lost_, as we learn from Strabof. 
 
 [Birds] in the spring-time, says Aristotle, betake 
 themselves from a warm country to a cold one, out 
 of fear of heat to come, as the cranes do, which 
 come from the Scythian fields to the higher marshes, 
 whence the Nile flows, in which place they are 
 said to fight with the Pygmies. For that is not a 
 fable, but, certainly, the genus as well of the men, 
 as, also, of the horses is little (as it is said) and 
 dwell in caves, whence they have received the 
 name Troglodytes, from those coming near them J. 
 
 Herodotus, indeed, speaks '' of a little people, 
 
 * Homers Iliad f B. 3, v. 3, in the lines of Pope. 
 
 + B. 1. p. 43 ; B. 7, p. 299. '' But, for, to Hesiod no 
 one would object ignorance, naming Half-dogs, Longicipites^ 
 and Pygmies. Neither, truly, that, concerning Homer, to 
 be wonderful, when, also, by much, of those who come after, 
 many things both have been ignorant of and, monstrously, 
 feigned : as Hesiod, Half-dogs, Joltheads, Pygmies." 
 
 + Of the history of animals, B. 8, c. 12. " Of the Pyg- 
 mies, that is, of dwarfs, dandiprats and little men and women, 
 the generation is alike : for, of those, also, whose members 
 and sizes are spoiled in the womb and are, even as, pigs and 
 mules.'* (Aristotle, of the generatioji of animals, B. 2, c. 8.) 
 
 • b2 
 
4 ON PYGMIES. 
 
 under the middle stature of men ' coming' up to 
 certain Nasamonians who were wandering in Africa 
 and knew not the language of each other*: but does 
 not call them Pygmies or give them any other 
 name. Cambyses, however, as he, elsewhere, says, 
 went into the temple of Vulcan [in Egypt] and, 
 with much derision, ridiculed his image, forasmuch 
 as the statue of Vulcan was very like to the Phoe- 
 nician Pataicks, which they carried about in the 
 prows of their gallies : which those who saw not, 
 it was indicated to him to be those in the image 
 of a Pygmean-man t. 
 
 *' Middle India has black men, who are called 
 Pygmies, using the sauic language as the other 
 Indians : they are, however, very little : that the 
 greatest do not exceed the height of two cubits 
 and, the most part, only, of one cubit and a half. 
 But they nourish the longest hair, hanging down 
 unto the knees and even below : moreover, they 
 carry a beard more at length than any other men : 
 but, what is more, . . . after this promised beard is 
 risen to them, they never after use any clothing, 
 but send down, truly, the hairs from the back 
 much below the knees, but draw the beard before 
 down to the feet : afterward, when they have 
 
 • Euterpe, II, p. :V2. f ThnUa, III, p. 37. 
 
ON PYGMIES. 5 
 
 covered the whole body with hairs, they bind 
 themselves, using those in the place of a vestment. 
 . . .They are, moreover, apes and deformed. Their 
 sheep, however, are equal to our lambs : their 
 oxen and asses approach to the magnitude of our 
 rams : their horses, likewise, mules and other 
 beasts do not outreach. Of these Pygmies, the 
 king of the Indians, has three thousand in his 
 train : for they are very^ skilful archers. They 
 are, however, most just and use the same laws as 
 the other Indians. They hunt hares and foxes, 
 not with dogs, but crows, kites, rooks and eagles. 
 There is a lake among them, having the compass 
 of eight hundred measures, containing 625 feet 
 each, to which, as no wind blows, oil swims above : 
 which, truly, they draw out of the middle of it 
 with vessels, sailing through it in little ships and 
 use it*." 
 
 Ovid, in his Metamorphoses ^ alludes to some old 
 story, not now to be found : 
 
 " Another show'd, where the Pygmaean dame. 
 Profaning Junos venerable name. 
 Turned to an airy crane, descends from far 
 And, with her Pygmy subjects, wages warf ." 
 
 ♦ From a fragment of Ctesias, who flourished in the 
 337th year before the vulgar tera, in ^\'esselings edition of 
 Jlnodotus, p. 828. t ^' ^ 
 
6 ON PVGMIES. 
 
 Pomponius Mela says that '' More within the 
 Arabian bay than the Panchaeans were, the Pyg- 
 mies, a minute race, and which ended in fighting 
 against the cranes for planted fruits*." 
 
 According to Sir John Maundevile the '^ gret 
 ryvere that men clepen Dalay . . . go the thorghe 
 the lond of Pygmans: where that the folk ben 
 of litylle stature, that ben but 3 span long : 
 and thei ben right faire and gentylle, aftre here 
 quantytees, bothe the men and the wommen. 
 And thei maryen hem, whan thei ben half yere of 
 age, and geten children. And thei lyven not but 
 6 yeer or 7 at the moste. And he that lyvethe 
 8 yeer, men holden him there righte passynge old. 
 These men ben the beste worcheres of gold, sylver, 
 cotoun, sylk, and of alle suche thinges, of ony 
 other that be in the world. And thei han often- 
 tymes werre with the briddes of the contree, that 
 thei taken and eten. This litylle folk nouther 
 labouren in londes ne in vynes. But thei han 
 grete men amonges hem, of oure stature, that tylen 
 the lond, and labouren amonges the vynes for hem. 
 And of the men of oure stature, han thei als grete 
 skorne and wondre, as we wolde have among us of 
 geauntes, yif thei weren amonges us. There is a gode 
 cytee, amonges othere, where there is duellinge gret 
 * B. 3, c. 8, p. 2«7. 
 
ON PYGMIES. 7 
 
 plentee of the ly tylle folk : and it is a gret cy tee j 
 and a fair j and the men ben grete, that duellen 
 amonges hem : but whan thei geten ony children, 
 thei ben als litylle as the Pygmeyes : and therfore 
 thei ben alle, for the moste part, alle Pygmeyes j for 
 the nature of the lond is suche. The grete cane 
 let kepe this cytee fulle wel : for it is his. And 
 alle be it, that the Pygmeyes ben lytylle, yit thei 
 ben fulle resonable, aftre here age, and connen 
 bothen wytt, and gode and malice, ynow*." 
 
 *' At the north poynt of Lewis [one of the 
 Hebrides, or Western isles] there is a little ile 
 callit The Pygmies ile, with ane little kirk in it of 
 ther own handey-wark, within this kirk the 
 ancients of that countrey of the Lewis says, that 
 the said Pigmies has been cirdit thair. Maney men 
 of divers countreys has delvit upe dieplie the flure 
 of the Htle kirke and i myselve, amanges the leave 
 and hes found in it, deepe under the crthe, certain 
 banes and round heads of wondcrfiill little quantity, 
 allegit to be the banes of the said Pigmies, quhilk 
 may be lykely, according to sundry histoiys that 
 we reid of the Pigmies . but i leave this far of it 
 to the ancients of Lewis f-" 
 
 * Voiage and travaile^ London, 1727, 8vo. p. 252. 
 
 t Description of the Western isles of Scotland, hij Do?iald 
 Monro, high dean (fiheisles^ who travelled through the most 
 
8 ON PYGMIES. 
 
 The inland parts^ in some places of the 
 coast of Coromandel, toward the hills, are covered 
 with immense and impenetrable forests, which 
 afford a shelter for all sort of wild beasts : but, in 
 that which forms the inland-boundary of the Car- 
 natic rajahs dominions, there is one singular species 
 of creatures, of which Mr. Grose, the author of 
 '' A voyage to the East-Indies," performed, by 
 himself, in the year 1750, (the second edition 
 whereof was published, by the writer, at London, 
 in 1772, in two volumes, octavo,) had heard much 
 in India, and of the truth of which, he says, the 
 following fact that happened sometime before his 
 arrival there, may serve for an attestation : 
 
 Vencajee, a merchant of that country, and an 
 inhabitant on the sea- coast, sent up to Bombay, to 
 the then governor of it, mr. Home, a couple of 
 these creatures, as a present, by a coasting vessel, 
 
 of them in 1549: Edin. 1784, 12mo. p. 37. See a defence 
 of the existence of the Pygmies, in Rosses Arcana microcosmi^ 
 London, 1652, p. 100. Martin, likewise, in his Description 
 of the Western islands of Scotland, 170)1, p. 19, says, The 
 island of Pigmies, or, as the natives call it, The island of 
 little moij is but of small extent There +iave been many 
 small bones dug out of the ground here, resembling those of 
 human kind more than any other. This, he adds, gave 
 grouixl to a tradition, which the natives have of a very low- 
 Rtatured people living once here, called Lusbirdan, that is 
 pygmies. 
 
ON PYGMIES. 9 
 
 of which one captain Boag was the master, and 
 the make of which, according to his description, 
 and that of others, was as follows : 
 
 They were scarcely two feet high, walked erect, 
 and had perfectly a human form. They w^ere of 
 a sallow white, without any hair, except in those 
 parts in which it is customary for mankind to have 
 it. By their melancholy, they ^oemcd^io have a 
 rational sense of their captivity, and had many of 
 the human actions. They made their bed very 
 orderly, in the cage in ^hich they were sent up, 
 and, on behig viewed, would endeavour to conceal, 
 with their hands, those parts which modesty for- 
 bids manifesting. The joints of their knees were 
 not reentering like those of monkeys, but saliant 
 like those of men ; a circumstance they have in 
 common with the ouran-outangs in the eastern 
 j)arts of India, in Sumatra, Java, and the Spice- 
 islands, of which these seem to be the diminutives, 
 though with nearer approaches of resemblance to 
 the human species. But, though the navigation 
 from the Carnatic coast to Bombay is of a veiy short 
 nm, whether tha sea-air did not agree with them, 
 or they could not brook their confinement, or 
 captain Boag had not properly consulted their pro- 
 vision, the female, sickening, first died, and the 
 male, giving all tlie demonstrations of grief, seemed 
 
10 ()x\ PYGMIES. 
 
 to take it so to heart, that he refused to eat, and, 
 in two days after, followed her. The captain, on 
 his return to Bombay, reporting this to the go- 
 vernor, was by him asked, what he had done with 
 the bodies 3 he said, he had flung them over-board. 
 Being further asked, why he did not keep them in 
 spirits, he repHed bluntly, he did not think of it. 
 Upon this the governor wrote afresh to Vencajee, 
 and desired him to procure another couple, at any 
 rate, as he should grudge no expense to be master 
 of such a curiosity. Vencajees answer was. He 
 would very willingly oblige him, but that he was 
 afraid it would not be in his power : that these 
 creatures came from a forest, about seventy leagues 
 up the counti-y, where the inhabitants catch them 
 on the skirts of it 5 but they were so exquisitely 
 cunning and shy, that this scarcely happened once 
 in a century. 
 
 If the above relation, concludes our author, 
 should be true, as there is no reason to doubt it, 
 we have here a proof, that the existence of pygmies 
 is not entirely fabulous, as nothing can nearer ap- 
 proach the description of them *. 
 
 * Vol. I, page 231, ^c. 
 
DISSERTATION 11 
 
 ON FAIRIES. \ ^^Slry 
 
 K or 
 
 The earliest mention of Fairies is made by 
 Homer, if, that is, his English translator have, 
 in this instance, done him justice : 
 
 " Where round the bed, whence Achelous springs, 
 The wat'ry Fairies dance in mazy rings*.*' 
 
 These nymphs he supposes to frequent or reside 
 in woods, hills, the sea, fountains, grottos, ^^c. ; 
 whence they are peculiarly called Naiads, Dryads, 
 and Nereids : 
 
 * Iliad, B. 24, V. TJ6* The word Fairy, as used in our 
 own language, is a mere blunder; the proper name of the 
 French Fairy is Faee or Fee, or in English Fay ; Fatrie, 
 or Faerie, which we apply to the person, being, in fact, the 
 country^ or kingdom, of the Fays, or what we call Fairy~ 
 land. We have committed a similar mistake in the word 
 barley ; which signifies, in fact, the ley, or land upon which 
 the bear grows (bejie, hordeum, leaj, a ley). 
 
12 ON FAIR IKS. 
 
 " What sounds are these that gather from the shores. 
 The voice of nymphs that haunt the sylvan bow'rs. 
 The fair-hair'd dryads of the shady wood, 
 Or azure daughters of the silver flood !" 
 
 Odys. B. 6, V. 122. 
 
 The original word, indeed, is nymphs, which, it 
 must be confessed, furnishes an accurate idea of 
 \\\efays (fees oxfatesj of the ancient French and 
 Italian romances ; wherein they are represented as 
 females of inexpressible beauty, elegance, and every 
 kind of personal accomplishment, united with 
 magic, or supernatural power. Such, for instance, 
 as the Calypso of Homer, or the Alcina of Ariosto. 
 'Agreeably' to this idea it is that Shakspeare makes 
 Antony say, in allusion to Cleopatra, 
 
 '* To this Great Fairy 1*11 commend thy acts," 
 
 meaning this grand assemblage of power and 
 BEAUTY. Such, also, is the character of the 
 ancient nymphs, spoken of by the Roman poets : 
 as Virgil, for instance : 
 
 " Forlunatus et ille, dcos qui novit agrestes, 
 Panaqiie^ Sylvamnnque scnevi^ Nymphasque sorores*.*' 
 
 They, likewise, occur in other passages, as well as 
 in Horace : 
 
 • Gcor, L, 2, V. 493. 
 
ON 1 AIKIKS. 13 
 
 " gclidum 7iemus 
 
 Nympharumque leves cum Satyris chori — * :'* 
 
 and, still more frequently, in Ovid. 
 
 Not far from Rome, as we are told by Chorier, 
 was a place formerly called Ad NymphaSj and, at 
 this day, Santa Ninfa ; which, without doubt, he 
 adds, in the language of our ancestors, would have 
 been called The place of Fays f. 
 
 The word faee, ox fee, among the French, is de- 
 rived, according to Du Cange, from the barbarous 
 Xj&Xam faduSi ox fada. In Italian /«/«. Gervase of 
 Tilbury, in his Ot'ia xmperialia (D. 3, c. 88) speaks 
 of " some of this kind of lairv<By which they named 
 faded, we have heard to be lovers :" and, in his 
 relation of a nocturnal contest between two knights 
 (c. 94), he exclaims " What shall I say? I know 
 not if it were a true horse, or if it were a fairy, 
 {fadus), as men assert." From the Roman de 
 Partenay, or de Lezignan, MS. Du Cange cites 
 
 " Le chasteau fut fait tfune fee 
 Si comme il est partout retrait.^'' 
 
 Hence, he says, faerie for spectres : 
 
 • Carmiua, L. I, O. I, T. 30. 
 
 f Rechercltcs dcs antiquitez de Viennr, Lyon, 1059, 
 p. 108. 
 
 V 
 
14 ON P^AIRIKS. 
 
 " Phisieurs parlimt de Guenart, 
 Du Lou, de VAsne, et de Renart, 
 De faeries, ct de songes, 
 De fantosmeSf ct de mensongesJ*^ 
 
 The same Gerv^ase explains the Latin Fata (fee, 
 French) a divining woman, an inchantress, or a 
 witch, (D. 3, c. 88). 
 
 Master Wace, in his Histoire des dues de Nor- 
 mendie (confounded by many with the Roman de 
 Rou), describing the fountain of Berenton, in Bre- 
 tagne, says : 
 
 *' Ew la forest et environ^ 
 
 Mais jo ne sais par quel raison 
 
 La scut Ven les fees veeir^ 
 
 Se It Breton nos dient veir, jj-c.'* 
 
 (In the forest and around, 
 I wot not by what reason found 
 There may a man the fairies spy, 
 If Britons do not tell a lie.) 
 
 but it may be difficult to conceive an accurate idea 
 from the mere name, of the popular French Fai/s 
 or fairy s of the twelfth century. 
 
 In Vienne, in Dauphiny, is Le puit des fees, or 
 Fairy-well. These fays, it must be confessed, have 
 a strong resemblance to the nymphs of the ancients, 
 who inhabited in caves, and fountains. Upon a 
 
ON FAIRIKS. 15 
 
 little rock, which overlooks the Rhone, arc three 
 round holes, which Nature alone has formed, 
 although it seem, at first sight, that Art has 
 laboured after her. They say that they were 
 formerly frequented by Fays 5 that they were full 
 of water, when it rained 3 and that they there, 
 frequently, took the pleasure of the bath ; than 
 which they had not one more charming*. 
 
 Pomponius Mela, an eminent geographer, and, 
 in point of time, far anterior to Pliny, relates, that 
 beyond a mountain in ^Ethiopia, called by the Greeks 
 the high mountain, burning, he says, with per- 
 petual fire, is a hill spread over a long tract by 
 extended shores, whence they rather go to see 
 wide plains, than to behold [the habitations] of 
 Pans and SatjTS. Hence, he adds, this opinion 
 received faith, that, whereas, in these parts is 
 nothing of culture, no seats of inhabitants, no foot- 
 steps J a waste solitude in the day, and a more 
 waste silence 3 frequent fires shine, by night 3 and 
 
 * Chorier, Recherchcs^ &c. Oenone, in one of Ovid* 
 epistles, says — 
 
 " Edita de magno flumine Nympha/wi.'* 
 
 See, also, Homers Odi/ssey, B. 13 ; and Porphyry De antro 
 Nympharuin. These xoatry nymphs were, likewise, called 
 Naiades^ others were, Orcades^ &c. according to the objects 
 to which they were attached or over wliich they presided. 
 
 -;¥ 
 
16 ON FAIRIKS. 
 
 camps, as it were^ are seen widely spread ; cymbals 
 and tympans sound, and sounding pipes are heard, 
 more than human*. These invisible essences, 
 however, are both anonymous, and nondescript. 
 
 The penates of the Romans, according to honest 
 Reginald Scot, were 'Hhe domesticallgods,or rather 
 divels, that were said to make men live quietlie 
 within doores. But some think that Lares are 
 such as trouble private houses. Larva are said to 
 be spirits that walke onelie by night. Vinculi 
 terrei are such as was Robin Good-fellowe, that 
 would supplie the office of servants, speciallie of 
 maides ; as to make a fier in the morning, sweepe 
 the house, grind mustard and malt, drawe water, 
 8fC., these also rumble in houses, drawe latches, 
 go up and downe staiers, S^cf A more modern 
 writer says " The Latins have called" the fairies 
 '* lares and larvce, frequenting, as they say, houses, 
 delighting in neatness^ pinching the slut, and re- 
 warding the good housewife with money in her 
 shoe J." This, however, is nothing but the cha- 
 racter of an English fairy applied to the name of 
 a Roman lar or larva. It might have been wished, 
 too, that Scot, a man, unquestionably, of great 
 
 * 15. 3, c. 9. 
 
 i* Discovcrie of rviichcraft^ London, 1584, p. 52L 
 $ Plcusaunt treatise of witches, 1(»73, p. 53. 
 
ON FAIRIKS. 17 
 
 learning had referred, by name, and work, and 
 book and chapter, to those ancient authors from 
 whom he derived his information upon the Roman 
 penates, &c. 
 
 What idea our Saxon ancestors had of the Fairy, 
 which they called aelp, a word explained by Lye as 
 equivalent to ^' lamia, larva, incubus, ephialtesf 
 we are utterly at a loss to conceive. 
 
 The nymphs, the satyrs, and the fawns, are 
 frequently noticed by the old traditional historians 
 of the north : particularly Saxo-grammaticus, who 
 has a curious story of three nymphs of the forest 
 and Hother king of Sweden and Denmark, being 
 apparently the originals of the we'ird, or wizard, 
 sisters of Macbeth*. Others are preserved by 
 Olaus Magnus, who says they had so deeply im- 
 pressed into the earth, that the place they have 
 been used to, having been (apparently) eaten up, 
 in a circular form, with flagrant heat, never brings 
 forth fresh grass from the dry turf. This nocturnal 
 sport of monsters, he adds, the natives call The 
 dance of the elves ^^ 
 
 •* In John Milesius any man may reade 
 Of divels in Sarmatia honortd. 
 
 • B. 3, p. 39. t B. 3, c. 10, 
 
18 ON FAIRIES. 
 
 Caird Kottri^ or Kibaldi; such as wee 
 
 Pugs and Hob-goblins call. Their dwellings bee 
 
 In comers of old houses least frequented, 
 
 Or beneath stacks of wood : and these convented. 
 
 Make fearefuU noise in buttries and in dairies ; 
 
 Robin Good-fellowes Fome, some call them fairies. 
 
 In solitarie roomes these uprores keepe, 
 
 And beat at dores to wake men from their sleepe ; 
 
 Seeming to force locks, be they ne're so strong, 
 
 And keeping Christmasse gambols all night long. 
 
 Pots, glasses, trenchers, dishes, pannes, and kettles, 
 
 They will make dance about the shelves and settles, 
 
 As if about the kitchen tost and cast, 
 
 Yet in the morning nothing found misplac't*." 
 
 Milton, a prodigious reader of romance, has, like- 
 wise, given an apt idea of the ancient fays : 
 
 " Fairer than famed of old, or fabled since 
 Of Fairy damsels met in forest wide 
 By knights of Logres, and of Liones, 
 Lancelot, or Pelleas, or Pellenore." 
 
 These ladies, in fact, are by no means unfrequent 
 in those fabulous, it must be confessed, but, at the 
 same time, ingenious and entertaining histories ; as, 
 for instance, Melusine, or Merlusine, the heroine of 
 a very ancient romance in French verse ; and who 
 was, occasionally, turned into a serpent f 5 Morgan- 
 
 • Hey woods Hierarchic ofangells, 1635, fo. p. 574. 
 
 t Peter Loyer says, he can no more believe the history of 
 Melusine than those " olde wives tales, and idle toyes, and 
 fictions of the /ayrie Pe^ia^Ma,*' &c. {Treatise of Spectres^ 
 
ON FAIRIES. 19 
 
 la-faee, the reputed half-sister of king Arthur, and 
 the lady of the lake, so frequently noticed in sir 
 Thomas Malorys old history of that monarch. 
 
 Le Grand is of opinion that what is called Fairy 
 comes to us from the orientals, and that it is their 
 genies which have produced o\xt fairies ; a species 
 of nymphs, of an order superior to these women 
 magicians, to whom they nevertheless ' gave' the 
 same name. In Asia, he says, where the women 
 imprisoned in the harams, prove still, beyond the 
 general servitude, a particular slavery, the ro- 
 mancers have imagined the Peris, who flying in the 
 air, come to soften their captivity, and render them 
 happy*. Whether this be so, or not, it is certain 
 that we call the aurora horeales, or active clouds, 
 in the m^t, perry -dancers \. 
 
 After all, sir William Ouseley finds it impossible 
 
 1605, fo. 19.) " Certainly," he adds, '* if all the nympJies 
 [or fay s^, of which I have spoken, have at any time appeared 
 unto men, it cannot be imagined but that they must needs be 
 spirits and divels : and the truth is, that, even at this day, it 
 is thought, in some of the northern regions, they do yet ap- 
 peare to divers persons ; and the report is, that they have a 
 care and doe diligently attend little infantes lying in the 
 cradle; that they doe dresse and undresse them in their 
 swathling clothes, and do perfoniie itU that which careful 
 nurses can do unto their children." 
 
 ♦ [Fabliaux. 12mo. i. 112.] 
 
 f V. Caylus, Mem. dc Vaca. des belles let. xx. 
 
 c 2 
 
20 ON FAIRIES. 
 
 to give an accurate idea of what the Persian poets 
 designed by a perie 3 this aerial being not re- 
 sembling our fairies. The strongest resemblance 
 he can find is in the description of Milton in Comus, 
 The sublime idea which Milton entertained of a 
 fairy vision corresponds rather with that which the 
 Persian poets have conceived of the peries : 
 
 " Their port was more * than' human as they stood ; 
 I took it for a faery vision 
 Of some gay creatures of the element 
 That in the colours of the rainbow live, 
 And play i'th' plighted clouds*." 
 
 It is, by no means, credible, however that Milton 
 had any knowledge of the oriental peries 3 though 
 his enthusiastic or poetical imagination might have 
 easily peopled the air with spirits. 
 \ There are two sorts oifays, according to * M. le 
 Grand.' The one a species of nymphs or di- 
 vinities 3 the others, more properly called sor- 
 ceresses, or women instructed in magic. From 
 time immemorial, in the abbey of Poissy, founded 
 by St. Lewis, they said every year a mass to pre- 
 serve the nuns from the power of the J'ai/s. When 
 the process of the damsel of Orleans was made, 
 the doctors demanded, for the first question, '' If 
 she had knowledge of those who went to the sab- 
 
 • D' Israelis Romances, p. 13. 
 
ON FAIRIES. 21 
 
 bath with the fays 9 or if she had not assisted at 
 the assemblies held at the fountain of t\\efays, 
 near Domprein, around which ' dance' malignant 
 spirits ?" The journal of Paris^ under Charles VI. 
 and Charles VII. pretends that she confessed that, 
 at the age of twenty-seven years, she frequently 
 went, in spite of her father and mother, to a fair 
 fountain in the country of Lorraine, which ' she' 
 named the good fountain to the fays our lord*. 
 
 Gervase of Tilbury, in his chapter " Of Fauns 
 and Satyrs/' says " there are, likewise, others, 
 whom the vulgar name Follets, who inhabit the 
 houses of the simple rustics, and can be driven 
 away neither by holy-water, nor exorcisms j and 
 because they are not seen, they afflict those who 
 are entering with stones, billets, and domestic 
 furniture 5 whose words, for certain, are heard in 
 the human manner, and their forms do not ap- 
 pearf." He is speaking of England. 
 
 This Follet seems to resemble our Puck, or 
 Robin Good-fellow, whose pranks are recorded in 
 an old song, and who was sometimes useful, and 
 sometimes mischievous. Whether or not he were 
 the fairy-spirit of whom Milton 
 
 • [lb. p. 75.] 
 
 t Otia imperialia^ D. 1, c. 18. 
 
22 ON FAIRIES. 
 
 " Tells how the drudging goblin swet, 
 To em his cream-bowle duly set, 
 MTien, in one night, ere glimps of morn, 
 His shadowy flail hath thresh 'd the com, 
 That ten day-labourers could not end, 
 Then lies him down, the lubbar fend ; 
 And stretch*d out all the chimney's length, 
 Basks at the fire his hairy strength ; 
 And crop-full out of dores he flings, 
 Ere the first cock his matin rings*," 
 
 is a matter of some difficulty. Perhaps the giant- 
 son of the witch, that had the devils mark about 
 her, (of whom " there is a pretty tale"), that was 
 called Lob'li/e-by'the-Jlref, was a very different 
 personage from Robin Good-fellow, whom, however, 
 he in some respects appears to resemble. A near 
 female relation of the compiler, who was born and 
 brought up in a small village in the bishopric of 
 Durham, related to him many years ago several 
 circumstances which confirmed the exactitude of 
 Miltons description 3 she, particularly, told of his 
 thrashing the corn, churning the butter, drinking 
 
 * Vallcgro. 
 
 •f- Beaumont and Fletchers Knight of the burning pestle^ 
 A. 3, S. 1. A female fairy, in Midsummer nights 
 dream says to Robin Good-fellow : " Farewell, thou lob of 
 spirits." 
 
ON FAIRIES. 23 
 
 the milk, &c. and, when all was done, " lying be- 
 fore the fire like a great rough hurgin bear*.'' 
 
 In another chapter Gervase says, '' As, among 
 men. Nature produces certain wonderful things, so 
 spirits, in airy bodies, who assume, by divine per- 
 mission the mocks they make. For, behold, England 
 has certain daemons (daemons, I call them, though 
 I know not but I should say secret forms of un- 
 known generation), whom the French call Nep- 
 tunes, the English Fortunes. With these it is 
 natural that they take advantage of the simphcity 
 of fortunate peasants fj and when, by reason of 
 their domestic labours, they perform their noc- 
 turnal vigils, of a sudden, the doors being shut, 
 they warm themselves at the fire, and eat little 
 frogs, cast out of their bosoms, and put upon the 
 burning coals 5 with an antiquated countenance j 
 a wrinkled face j diminutive in stature, not having 
 [in length] half a thumb. They are clothed witli 
 rags patched together j and, if any thing should 
 be to be carried on in the house, or any kind of 
 laborious work to be done, they join themselves to 
 the work, and expedite it with more than human 
 facility. It is natural to these, that they may be 
 
 ♦ See the tale of the Maath doog, 
 f It should rather be iiufortiniute. 
 
g4 ON J'AIRIES. 
 
 obsequious, and may not be hurtful. But one 
 little mode, as it were, they have of hurting. For 
 when, among the ambiguous shades of night, the 
 English, occasionally ride alone, the Fortune, some- 
 times, unseen, couples himself to the rider* 5 and, 
 when he has accompanied him, going on, a very 
 long time, at length, the bridle being seized, he 
 leads him up to the hand in the mud, in which 
 while, infixed, he wallows, the Fortune, departing, 
 sets up a laugh 3 and so, in this kind of w ay, de- 
 rides human simplicity f." 
 
 This spirit seems to have some resemblance to the 
 Ficktree- hrag J, a mischievous barguest that used 
 to haunt that part of the country, in the shape of 
 different animals, particularly of a little galloway 5 
 in which shape a farmer, still or lately living there- 
 about, reported that it had come to him one night 
 as he was going home ; that he got upon it, and 
 rode very quietly till it came to a great pond, to 
 which it ran and threw him in, and went laugh- 
 ing AWAY. 
 
 • That is, gets up behind him. 
 
 ■f- Otia imperialiay D. 3, c. 61. 
 
 X Picktree, in the bishopric of Durham, is a small col- 
 lection of huts, erected for the colliers, about two miles to the 
 north-east of Chester. 
 
ON FAIRIES. Q5 
 
 He further says, there is, in England, a certain 
 species of demons, which in their language they 
 call Grant, like a one-year-old foal, with straight 
 legs, and sparkUng eyes. This kind of demons 
 very often appears in the streets, in the very heat 
 of the day, or about sun-set j and as often as it 
 makes its appearance, portends that there is about 
 to be a nrein that city or town. When, therefore, 
 in the following day or night, the danger is urgent, 
 in the streets, running to and fro, it provokes the 
 dogs to bark, and, while it pretends flight, invites 
 them, following, to pursue, in the vain hope of 
 overtaking it. This kind of illusion creates caution 
 to the watchmen who have the custody of fire, 
 and so the officious race of demons, while they 
 terrify the beholders, are wont to secure the 
 ignorant by their arrival*. 
 
 Gower, in his tale of Narcissus, professedly from 
 Ovid, says 
 
 " As he cast his loke 
 
 Into the well, 
 
 He sawe the like of his visage, 
 
 And wende there were an ymage 
 
 Of suche a nymphe, as tho vfusfaye'f.^* 
 
 • Gervase, D. 3, c. (12. 
 
 f Confessio amantu, fo. 20, b. 
 
26 ON FAIRIES. 
 
 In his legend of Constance is this passage : 
 
 '* Thy wife which is offairie 
 Of suche a childe delivered is, 
 Fro kinde, whiche stante all amis*." 
 
 In another part of his book, is a story " Howe 
 the kynge of Armflwis daughter mette on a tyme a 
 companie of the fairy. " These " ladies," ride 
 aside " on fayre [white] ambulende horses/' clad, 
 very magnificently, but all alike, in white and blue, 
 and wore " corownes on their heades :" but they 
 are not called /ays in the poem, nor does the word 
 fay or fairie once occur therein. 
 
 The fairies or elves of the British isles are 
 peculiar to this part of the world, and are not, so 
 far as literary information or oral tradition enables 
 us to judge, to be found in any other country. 
 For this fact the authority of father Chaucer will 
 be decisive, till we acquire evidence of equal an- 
 tiquity in favour of other nations : 
 
 " In olde dayes of the king Artour, 
 
 ,Of which the Bretons speken gret honour, 
 
 All was this lond fulfilled of faerie ; 
 
 The ELF-QUENE, with hire joly compagnie, 
 
 ♦ Ibi. fo. 32, b. These are the first instances faye or 
 fairie is mentioned in English ; but the whole of Gowers 
 work is suspected to be made up of licentious translations 
 from the Latin or French. 
 
ON FAIRIES. 27 
 
 Danced ful oft in many a grene mede*. 
 This was the old opinion as I rede ; 
 I speke of many hundred yeres ago ; 
 But now can no man see non elves mo, 
 For now the grete charitee and prayeres 
 Of limitoures and other holy freres, 
 That serchen every land, and every streme, 
 As thikke as motes in the sunnebeme, 
 Blissing halles, chambres, kichenes, and boures, 
 Citees and burghes, castles highe and toures, 
 Thropes and bernes, shepenes and dairies, 
 This maketh that ther ben no faeries." 
 
 The fairy may be defined as a species of being 
 partly material, partly spiritual j with a power to 
 change its appearance, and be, to mankind, visible 
 or invisible, according to its pleasure. In the old 
 song printed by Peck, Robin Good-fellow, a well- 
 known fairy, professes that he had played his 
 pranks from the time of Merlin, who was the con- 
 temporary of Arthur. 
 
 Chaucer uses the word faerie as well for the 
 individual y as for the country or si/stem, or what 
 we should now call fairy-land, or fairyism. He 
 knew nothing, it would seem of Oberon, Titania, or 
 Mab, but speaks of 
 
 " Pluto, that is the king of Faerie, 
 And many a ladie in his compagnie, 
 Folwing his wif, the quene Proserpina, &c" 
 
 * Wif of Bathes tale. 
 
28 ON FAIRIES. 
 
 {The marchantes tale, 1. 10101.) From this 
 passage of Chaucer, Mr. Tyrwhitt " cannot help 
 thinking that his Pluto and Proserpina were the 
 true progenitors of Oheron and Tltania!' 
 
 In the progress of The wif of Bathes tale, it 
 happed the knight 
 
 " in his way .... to ride 
 
 In all his care, under a forest side, 
 
 Whereas he saw upon a dance go 
 
 Of ladies foure-and-twenty, and yet mo. 
 
 Toward this ilke dance he drow ful yeme, 
 
 In hope that he som wisdom shulde lerne, 
 
 Bui, certainly, er he came fully there, 
 
 Y vanished was this dance, he wiste not wher." 
 
 These ladies appear to have heen fairies, though 
 nothing is insinuated of their size. Milton seems 
 to have been upon the prowl here for his " forest- 
 side." 
 
 In A midsummer-nights dream, a fairy addresses 
 Bottom the weaver 
 
 " Hail, mortal^ bail ! " 
 
 which sufficiently shows she was not so lierself. 
 
 Puck, or Robin Good-fellow, in the same play, 
 calls Oberon, 
 
 " king of shadous'" — 
 
ON FAIRIES. 89 
 
 and in the old song, just mentioned, 
 
 " The king o£ ghosts and shadows:''^ 
 
 and this mighty monarch asserts of himself, and 
 his subjects, 
 
 " But WE are spirits of another sort." 
 
 The fairies, as we already see, were male and 
 female 3 but, it is not equally clear that they pro- 
 created children. 
 
 ThcT government was monarchicid, and Oberon 
 the king of Fairy- land, must have been a sovereign 
 of very extensive territory. The name of his 
 queen was Titania, both are mentioned by Shak- 
 speare, being personages of no little importance 
 in the above play : where they in an ill-humour, 
 thus encounter : 
 
 '* Obe. Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania. 
 Tita, What, jealous Oberon ? Fairy skip hence ; 
 I have forsworn his bed and company." 
 
 That the name [Oberon] was not the invention 
 of our great dramatist is sufficiently proved. The 
 allegorical Spenser gives it to king Henry the 
 eighth. Robert Greene was the author of a play 
 entitled " The Scottishe history of James the 
 fourthe . . . intermixed with a pleasant comedie pre- 
 sented by Oberon king 0/ the fairies.'' He is, like- 
 
go ON FAIRIES. 
 
 wise, a character in the old French romances of 
 Huon de Bourdeaux, and Ogier le Danois ; and 
 there even seems to be one upon his own exploits : 
 " Roman d'Auherony What authority, however, 
 Shakspeare had for the name Titania, it does not 
 appear, nor is she so called by any other writer. 
 He himself, at the same time, as well as many 
 others, gives to the queen of fairies the name of 
 Mab, though no one, except Drayton, mentions 
 her as the wife of Oberon : 
 
 " O then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you, 
 She is the fairys 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 mens noses as they lie asleep : 
 Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners legs ; 
 The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ; 
 The traces, of the smallest spiders web ; 
 The collars, of the moonshines wat'ry beams ; 
 Her whip, of crickets bone ; the lash, of film : 
 Her waggoner, a small grey -coated gnat, 
 Not half 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 of mind the fairys coachmakers. ■ ' 
 And in this state she gallops night by night, 
 Through lovers brains, and then they dream of love. — 
 This is that very Mab, 
 
ON FAIRIES. 31 
 
 That plats the manes of horses in the night ; 
 And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, 
 Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes *." 
 
 Ben Jonson, in his " Entertainment of the queen 
 and prince at Althrope," in 1603, describes to 
 come " tripping up the lawn a bevy of fairies at- 
 tending on Mab their queen, who falling into an 
 artificial ring that was there cut in the path, began 
 to dance around t*' 
 
 In the same masque the queen is thus cha- 
 racterised by a satyr : 
 
 " This is Mab, the mistress fairy. 
 That doth nightly rob the dairy. 
 And can hurt or help the churning, 
 (As she please) without discerning. 
 
 She that pinches country-wenches. 
 If they rub not clean their benches X^ 
 And with sharper nails remembers 
 When they rake not up th*ir embers ; 
 
 * Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 t Works, V, 201. 
 
 X Thus, too, Shakspeare, in The M. TV, of W. 
 
 Cficket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap : 
 
 Where fires thou find'st unraked, and hearths unswept, 
 
 There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry : 
 
 Our radiant queen hates sluts, and sluttery.** 
 
32 ON FAIUIES. 
 
 But, if so they chance to feast her, 
 In a shoe she drops a tester. 
 
 This is she that empties cradles, 
 Takes out children, puis in ladles ; 
 Trains forth midwives in their slumber, 
 With a sieve the holes to number ; 
 And thus leads them from her boroughs, 
 Home through ponds and water-furrows. 
 
 She can start our franklin's daughters. 
 In *■ their' sleep, with shrieks and laughters, 
 And on sweet St. ' Agnes' night, 
 Feed them with a promised sight, 
 
 Milton, likewise, gives her the same name : 
 
 '* With stories told of many a feat. 
 How TAERY Mab the junkets eat." 
 
 So, too, Jonson, in the above entertainment: 
 
 *' Fairies, pinch him black and blue. 
 Now you have him, make him true." 
 
 And, in Mil tons Allegro: 
 
 " She was pincht, and pull'd she sed." 
 
 Again, in the same play: 
 
 '* Where's Pead ? — Go you, and where you find a maid, 
 
 That, ere she slgep, has thrice her prayers say'd. 
 
 Raise up the organs of her fantasy 
 
 Sleep she as sound as careless infancy; 
 
 But those as sleep, and think not on their sins. 
 
 Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and shins." 
 
ON FAIllIKS. 33 
 
 Some of husbands, some of lovers. 
 Which an empty dream discovers.*' 
 
 Fairies, they tell you, have frequently been 
 heard and seen, nay that there are some living who 
 were stolen away by them, and confined seven 
 years. According to the description they give 
 who pretend to have seen them, they are in 
 the shape of men, exceeding little. They are al- 
 ways clad in green, and frequent the woods and 
 fields ; when they make cakes (which is a work 
 they have been often heard at) they are very noisy j 
 and when they have done, they are full of mirth 
 and pastime. But generally they dance in moon- 
 light when mortals are asleep, and not capable of 
 seeing them, as may be observed on the following 
 mom 5 their dancing places being very distinguish- 
 able. For as they dance hand in hand, and so 
 make a circle in their dance, so next day there 
 will be seen rings and circles on the grass *. 
 
 These circles are thus described by Browne, tho 
 author of Britannias pastorals : 
 
 ** A pleasant meade, 
 
 M^here fairies often did their measures treade, 
 
 * Bournes Antiqtiitates vulgares^ Newcastle, 1725, 8vo' 
 p. 82. 
 
 D 
 
34j on fairies. 
 
 Which in the meadow made such circles greeue. 
 As if with garlands it had crowned beene. 
 
 Within one of these rounds was to be seene 
 A hillock rise, where oft the fairie queene 
 At twy-light sate, and did command her elves, 
 To pinch those maids that had not swept their shelves : 
 And further, if by maidens over-sight, 
 Within doores water were not brought at night, 
 Or if they spred no table, set no bread. 
 They should have nips from toe unto the head ; 
 And for the maid that had performed each thing, 
 She in the water-pail bad leave a ring." 
 
 The same poet, in his " Shepheards pipe," 
 ha\dng inserted Hoccleves tale of Jonathas, and 
 conceiving a strange unnatural affection for that 
 stupid fellow, describes him as a great favourite of 
 the fairies, alleging, that 
 
 " Many times he hath been seene 
 With the fairies on the green e, 
 And to them his pipe did sound, 
 While they danced in a round, 
 Mickle solace would they make him. 
 And at midnight often wake him 
 And convey him from his roome, 
 To a field of yellow broome ; 
 Or into the medowes, where 
 Mints perfume the gentle aire, 
 And where Flora shends her treasure. 
 There they would begin their measure. 
 If it chancM nights sable shrowds 
 Muffled Cynthia up in clowds ; 
 
ON FAIRIES. 86 
 
 / 
 / Safely home they then would see him, 
 
 / And from brakes and quagmires free him." 
 
 The fairies were exceedingly diminutive^ but, 
 it must be confessed, we shall not readily find their 
 actual dimensions. They were small enough, how- 
 ever, if we may believe one of queen Titanias 
 maids of honour, to conceal themselves in acorn 
 shells 3 speaking of a difference between the king 
 and queen, she says : 
 
 " But they do square ; tliat all their elves for fear, 
 Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there ^ 
 
 They, uniformly, and constantly, wore green 
 vests, unless when they had some reason for 
 changing their dress. Of this circumstance we 
 meet with many proofs : Thus in The merry wives 
 of Windsor : 
 
 '* Like urchins, ouphes, and fairies green*." 
 
 In fact, we meet with them of all colours : as in 
 the same play: 
 
 " Fairies black, grey, green, and white.'* 
 
 • In the same play is this line 
 
 " You orphan-\\e\xs of fixed destiny," 
 
 for which Warburton proposes to read " ouphen-hevt^, 
 
 D 2 
 
3() ON FAIRIES. 
 
 That white, on some occasions, was the dress 
 of a female, we learn from Reginald Scot^. He 
 gives a charm " to go invisible, by [means of] 
 these three sisters of fairies," Milia, AcJiiUa, 
 Sibylla : " 1 charge you that you doo appeare be- 
 fore me visible^ in forme and shape of faire women, 
 in white vestures, and to bring with you to me the 
 ring of invisibilitie, by the which I may go in- 
 visible, at mine owne will and pleasure, and that in 
 all hours and minutes." 
 
 It was fatal, if we may believe Shakspeare, to 
 speak to a fairy : FalstafF, in The merry ubives of 
 Windsor, is made to say, " They are fairies j he 
 that speaks to them shall dye." 
 
 They were accustomed to enrich their favourites 5 
 as we learn from the clown in A winters tale: 
 " It was told me I should be rich by the fairies." 
 They delighted in neatness, could not endure sluts 
 and even hated fibsters, tell-tales, and divulgers of 
 secrets, whom they would slily and severely be- 
 •pinch, when they little expected it. They were 
 as generous and benevolent, on the contrary, to 
 young women of a different description, pro- 
 curing them the sweetest sleep, the pleasantest 
 
 • P. 40H. 
 
ON FAIRIES. 87 
 
 dreams, and, on their departure, in the morning, 
 always slipping a tester in their shoe. 
 
 They are supposed by some to have been ma- 
 lignant, but this, it may be, was mere calumny, 
 as being utterly inconsistent with their general 
 character, which was singularly innocent and 
 amiable. Imogen, in Shakspeares Ct/mbcline, 
 prays, on going to sleep, 
 
 '* From fairies, and the tempters of the night, 
 Guard me beseech you." 
 
 It must have been the Incubus she was so afraid 
 of. Old Gervase of Tilbury, in the twelfth cen- 
 tury, says, in a more modest language than En- 
 glish : '^ Vidimus quosdam dacmones tanto zelo mu- 
 Ueres amare quod ad inaudita i^rorumpunt ludibria, 
 et cum ad concubitum earum accedunt mird mole eas 
 opprimunt, nee ab aliis videntur*," 
 
 Hamlet, too, notices this imputed malignity of 
 the fairies : 
 
 " — - Then no planets strike, 
 
 No FAIRY takes, nor witch has power to charm.** 
 
 Thus, also, in The comedy of errors : 
 " A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough. 
 
 * Otia imperialiUy D. 1, c 17- This is what is now calkd 
 the night-mare. 
 
38 ON FAIKIKS. 
 
 They were amazingly expeditious in their jour- 
 nies : Puck, or Robin Good-fellow, answers Oberon, 
 who was about to send him on a secret expedition : 
 
 " 1*11 put a girdle round about the earth 
 In forty minutes." 
 
 Again, the same goblin addresses him thus : 
 
 '' Fairy king, attend and mark, 
 I do hear the morning lark. 
 
 Obe, Then, my queen, in silence sad. 
 Trip we after the nights shade, 
 We the globe can compass soon. 
 Swifter than the wand'ring moon." 
 
 In another place Puck says : 
 
 " My fairy lord this must be done in haste ; 
 
 For Nights swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, 
 And yonder shines Auroras harbinger ; 
 At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there, 
 Troop home to church-yards, ^c." 
 
 To which Oberon replies : 
 
 " But we are spirits of another sort : 
 
 I with the mornings love have oft made sport ; 
 And, like a forester, the groves may tread. 
 Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red, 
 Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams. 
 Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams.'* 
 
 Compare, likewise, what Robin himself says on 
 this subject in the old song of his exploits. 
 
ON FAIRIES. 39 
 
 They never ate : 
 
 *' But that it eats our victuals, I should think, 
 Here were a fairy,*' 
 
 says Belarius at the first sight of Imogen, as 
 Fidele*. 
 
 They were humanely attentive to the youthful- 
 dead. Thus Guiderius at the funeral of the above 
 lady: 
 
 " With FEMALE FAIRIES wiU his tomb be haunted.** 
 
 Or, as in the pathetic dirge of Collins on the 
 same occasion : 
 
 " No wither*d witch shall here be seen. 
 No goblins lead their nightly crew ; 
 
 The FEMALE FAYS shall haunt the green, 
 And dress thy grave with pearly dew.** 
 
 This amiable quaUty is, likewise, thus beautifully 
 alluded to by the same poet : 
 
 " By FAIRY HANDS their knell is rung, 
 By FORMS UNSEEN their dirge is sung.*' 
 
 ♦ They, nevertheless, sometimes haunted the buttery : 
 ** Have you nothing to do [quoth the widow to her husband 
 Jack, after she had, by a trick, got him to the wrong side of 
 the door, and locked him out] but dancj about the street at 
 this time of night, and, like a spirit oftlw buttery hunt after 
 crickets ?" {Jack of Newbury.) 
 
40 ON FAIRIES. 
 
 Their employment is thus charmingly repre- 
 sented by Shakspeare, in the address of Prospero : 
 
 " Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves, 
 And ye, that on the sands, with printless foot, 
 Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him 
 When he comes back ; you demy-puppets, that 
 By moon-shine do the green-sour ringlets make*, 
 Whereof the ewe not bites ; and you whose pastime 
 Is to make midnight mushrooms ; that rejoice 
 To hear the solemn curfew'' 
 
 In The midsummer nights dream, the queen, 
 Titania, being desirous to take a nap, says to her 
 female attendants : 
 
 " Come, now a roundel, and a fairy song ; 
 Then, for the third part of a minute hence : 
 Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rosebuds ; 
 Some, war with rear-mice, for their leathern wings, 
 To make my small elves coats ; and some, keep back 
 The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders, 
 . At our quaint spiritsf : Sing me now asleep ; 
 Then to your offices, and let me rest." 
 
 Milton gives a most beautiful and accurate de- 
 scription of the little green-coats of his native 
 soil, than which nothing can be more happily or 
 justly expressed : he had certainly seen them, in 
 this situation, with " the poets eye :" 
 
 * Thus, also, in The merry wives of Windsor : 
 
 " You moon-shine revellers, and shades of night." 
 f Sports. 
 
ON FAIRIES. 41 
 
 ** fairie elves, 
 
 Whose midnight revels, by a forest side 
 
 Or fountain, some belated peasant sees. 
 
 Or dreams he sees, while over-head the moon, 
 
 Sits arbitress, and neerer to the earth 
 
 Wheels her pale course, they, on thir mirth and dance 
 
 Intent, with jocond music charm his ear; 
 
 At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds *." 
 
 The impression they had made upon his imagination 
 in early life appears from his " Vacation exercise/* 
 at the age of nineteen : 
 
 " Good luck befriend thee, son ; for, at thy birth. 
 The FAiERY LADIES daunc't upon the hearth; 
 The drowsie nurse hath sworn she did them spie, 
 Come tripping to the room where thou didst lie ; . 
 And sweetly singing round about thy bed. 
 Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping head." 
 
 L'abbe Bourdelon, in his " Ridiculous extra- 
 vagances of M. Oufle," describes " The fairies, 
 of which/' he says, " grandmothers and nurses tell 
 so many tales to children j these fairies," adds 
 he, " I mean, who are affirmed to be blind at home, 
 and very clear-sighted abroad j who dance in the 
 moonshine, when they have nothing else to do 3 
 who steal shepherds and children, to carry them 
 up to their caves, <^c.t ' 
 
 * Paradise lost, B. 1. 
 
 t English translation, p. 190. He cites, in a note, that 
 
42 ON FAlllIKS. 
 
 The fairies have already called themselves spirits, 
 ghosts, or shadows, and^ consequently, they never 
 DIED 3 a position, at the same time, of which there 
 is every kind of proof that a fact can require. The 
 reviser of Johnson and Steevens's edition of Shak- 
 speare, in 1785, crows not a little, upon his dung- 
 hill, at having been able to turn the tables upon 
 his adversary, by a ridiculous reference to the 
 allegories of Spenser, and a palpably false one 
 to Tickells '^ Kensington-gardens," which he 
 affirms, ' will shew that the opinion of Fairies 
 dying prevailed in the present century,' whereas, 
 in fact, ^it' is found, on the slightest glance into 
 the poem, to maintain the direct reverse : 
 
 ** Mean- while sad Kenna, loath to quit the grove, 
 Hung o*er the body of her breathless love, 
 Try'd every iirt,Xv^in arts !) to change his doom. 
 And vowM (vain vows !) to join him in the tomb. 
 What could she do? the Fates alike deny 
 The dead to live, or fairy forms to die.*' 
 
 Gdrnelius van Kempen assures us, that, in the reign of the 
 emperor Lotharius, about the year 830, there appeared in 
 Friesland a great number of fairies, who took up their re- 
 sidence in caves, or on the tops of hills, and mountains, 
 whence they descended in the night, to steal away the shep- 
 herds from their flocks, snatch away children out of their 
 cradles, and carry both away to their caves: referring to 
 Bekkers World hcwitched, p. 1, 290. These fairies only 
 agree with ours in their fondness for cliildrcn. 
 
ON FAIRIES. 43 
 
 Ashamed, however, of the public detection of 
 his falsehood, he meanly omitted it in the next 
 edition, without having a single word to allege in 
 his defence : though he had still the confidence to 
 represent it as ^^ a misfortune to the commentators 
 of Shakspeare, that so much of their [invaluable] 
 time is obliged [for the sake of money] to be em- 
 ployed in explaining [by absurdity] and con- 
 tradicting [by falsehood] unfounded conjectures 
 and assertions j" which, in fact, (unfounded if 
 they were, as is by no means true), though he 
 was hardy enough to contradict, he was unable to 
 explain, and did not, in reality, understand, con- 
 tenting himself with an extract altogether foreign 
 to the purpose, at second hand. 
 
 The fact, after all, is so positively proved, that 
 no editor, or commentator, of Shakspeare, present 
 or future, will ever have the folly or impudence to 
 assert " that in Shakspeare's time the notion of 
 fairies dying was generally known." 
 
 Ariosto informs us (in Haringtons translation, 
 b. 10, s. 47) that 
 
 " (either auncient folke believ'd a lie, 
 
 Or this is true) a fayhie cannot die :" 
 
 and, again (b. 43, s. 92) : 
 
 ** I AM a fayrie, and, to make you know, 
 To be a fayrie what it doth import, 
 
44 ON FA HUES. 
 
 We cannot dye, how old so ear we grow. 
 
 Of paines and harmes of ev'rie other sort 
 
 We tast, onelie no death we nature ow." 
 
 Beaumont and Fletcher, in The faithful shep^ 
 herdesSy describe 
 
 *' A virtuous well, about whose flow'ry banks 
 The nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds, 
 By the pale moon-shine, dipping oftentimes 
 Their stolen children, so to make 'em free 
 From dying flesh, and dull mortality." 
 * 
 Puck, alias Robin Good-fellow, is the most 
 
 active and extraordinary fellow of a fairy that we 
 
 anywhere meet with 3 and it is believed we find 
 
 him no where but in our own country, and, perad- 
 
 ; venture also, only in the south. Spenser, it would 
 
 ■seem, is the first that alludes to his name of Puck : 
 
 / *' Ne let the Pouke^ nor other evill spright, 
 
 Ne let Hob-goblins, names whose sense we see not, 
 Fray us with things that be not*." 
 
 " In our childhood," says Reginald Scot, 
 *' our mothers maids have so terrified us with an 
 oughe divell, having homes on his head, fier in 
 his mouth, and a taile in his breech, eies like a 
 bason, fangcs like a dog, clawes like a beare, a skin 
 like a niger, and a voice roaring like a lion, where- 
 
 * Epithalamium. 
 
ON FAIRIES. 45 
 
 by we start, and are afraid when we heare one crie 
 Bough ! and they have so fraied us with bull-beg- 
 gers, spirits, witches, urchens, elves, hags, fairies, 
 satyrs, pans, sylens. Kit with the cansticke, 
 tritons, centaurs, dwarfes_, giants, imps, calcars, 
 conjurors, nyinphes, changhng. Incubus, Robin 
 Good -FELLOW, the spoorne, the niare, the man in 
 the oke, the hell wain, the fier drake, the puckle*, 
 ToniThoinbe,Hob gobblin f, Tom Tumbler, boneles, 
 and such other bugs, that we are afraid of our owne 
 shadowes |." *' And know you this by the waie," 
 he says, " that heretofore Robin Good-fellow, and 
 Hob goblin, were as terrible, and also as credible 
 to the people, as hags and witches be now . . . And 
 in truth, they that mainteine walking spirits have 
 no reason to denie Robin Good-fellow, upon whom 
 there hath gone as manie, and as credible, tales, as 
 upon witches 3 saving that it hath not pleased the 
 translators of the bible to call spirits by the name 
 of Robin Good-fellow §." 
 
 " Your grandams maides," he says, "were woont 
 
 * Perhaps a typographical error for Pucke. 
 
 -f- Not, as mr. Tyrwhitt has supposed, Hop goblin^ Hob 
 being a well-known diminutive of Robin ; and even this 
 learned gentleman seems to have forgotten a still more no- 
 torious character of his own time, — Hob in the well. 
 
 X Discoverie of witchcraft., London, 1584, 4to. p. 153. 
 
 § P. 131. 
 
46 ON FAIRIES. 
 
 to set a boll of milke before ' Licubus,* and liis 
 
 cousine Robin Good-fellow^ for gfinding of malt or 
 
 mustard^ and sweeping the house at midnight 3 and 
 
 you have also heard that he would chafe exceed- 
 
 ingly_, if the maid or good-wife of the house^ having 
 
 compassion of his nakednes, laid anie clothes for 
 
 him, beesides his messe of white bread and milke, 
 
 which was his standing fee. For in that case he 
 
 saith. What have we here ? 
 
 Hemton hamten, 
 Here will I never more tread nor stampen*." 
 
 Robin is thus characterised, in the Midsummer 
 
 nights dream, by a female fairy : 
 
 " Either I mistake your shape and making quite, 
 Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite 
 Call'd Robin Good-fellow ; are you not he 
 That fright the maidens of the villagery, 
 Skim milk ; and sometimes labour in the quern, 
 And bootless make the breathless housewife churn ; 
 And sometime make the drink to bear ne barm, 
 Mislead night- wanderers, laughing at their harm. 
 Those that Hob-goblin call you and sweet Puckf , 
 You do their work, and they shall have good luck." 
 
 To these questions Robin thus replies : 
 
 '^ Thou speak'st aright, 
 
 I am that merry wanderer of the night. 
 
 * Discoverie of witchcraft, p. 85. 
 f /*7/,A:, in fact. 
 
ON FAIUTES. 17 
 
 I jest to Oberon, and make him smile, 
 When I a fat, and bean-fed horse beguile. 
 Neighing in likeness of a filly foal : 
 And sometimes lurk I in a gossips bowl, 
 In very likeness of a roasted crab ; 
 And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, 
 And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale. 
 The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, 
 Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me, 
 Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, 
 And ' rails or' cries *, and falls into a cough, 
 And then the whole quire hold their hips and lough, 
 
 * This is Warburtons reading, which has, surely, more 
 sense than the, apparently, corrupted reading of the old and 
 new editions, *' tailor cries," which doctor Johnson, miserably, 
 attempts to defend by asserting, that " the trick of the fairy 
 is represented as producing rather merriment than anger." — 
 Had, however, the worthy doctor ever chanced to fall by the 
 removal from under him, of a three-foot stool, it is very 
 doubtful whether he himself would have expressed much 
 pleasure on feeling the pain of the fall, and finding himself 
 the laughing-stock of the whole company. He would have 
 been more ready, like the frogs in the fable, to exclaim 
 " This may be sport to you, but it is death to me.*' The 
 old woman had reason both to rail and cry, as she would 
 naturally suspect the stool had been plucked from under her 
 just as she was going to sit down ; than which there cannot 
 well be a more disagreeable accident, as the incredulous reader 
 who doubts the fact, may be easily convinced of, by trying 
 the experiment. 
 
48 ON FAIllIES. 
 
 And ' yexen' * in their mirth, and neeze, and swear 
 A merrier hour was never wasted there/* 
 
 His usual exclamation in this play, is Ho, ho, ho ! 
 
 " Ho^ ho, ho! Coward why com'st thou notf." 
 
 So in Grim the collier of Croydon : 
 
 *-^Ho, ho, ho, my masters ! No good fellowship ! 
 Is Robin Good-fellow a bug-bear grown, 
 That he is not worthy to be bid sit down ?" 
 
 In the song printed by Peck, he concludes ever}^ 
 stanza with Ho, hoy ho ! 
 
 '^ If that the bowle of curds and creame were 
 not duly set out for Robin Good-fellow, the frier J, 
 and Sisse the dairy-maid, why then either the pot- 
 tage was burnt-to next day in the pot, or the 
 cheeses would not curdle, or the butter would not 
 come, or the ale in the fat never would have good 
 head. But if a Peter-penny, or an housle-egge 
 were behind, or a patch of tythe unpaid, — then 
 'ware of bull-beggars, spirits, &c." 
 
 * Yexen is to hiccup ; a much better reading than waxen . 
 It was originally suggested by doctor Farmer, but never 
 adopted. 
 
 f It is officiously altered, in the last edition, to Ho^ ho / 
 ho, ho! 
 
 "J^ Frier Rush. 
 
ON FAIRIES. 49 
 
 This frolicksome spirit thus describes himself 
 in Jon sons masque of Love restored : " Robin 
 Good-fellow, he that sweeps the hearth and the 
 house clean, riddles for the country- maids, and 
 does all their other drudgery, while they are at 
 hot-cockles 3 one that has conversed with your 
 court-spirits ere now." Having recounted several 
 ineffectual attempts he had made to gain ad- 
 mittance, he adds : "In this despair, when all 
 invention and translation too failed me, I e'en 
 went back, and stuck to this shape you see me in 
 of mine own, with my broom, and my canles, and 
 came on confidently." The mention of his broom 
 reminds us of a passage in another play. Mid- 
 summer nights dream, where he tells the audience, 
 
 " I am sent with broom before, 
 
 To sweep the dust behind the door." 
 
 He is likewise one of the dramatis persona in 
 the old play of Wily beguiled, in which he says 
 " Tush! fear not the dodge : I'll rather put on 
 my flashing red nose, and my flaming face and 
 come wrap'd in a calf-skin, and cry bo, bo: I'll 
 pay the scholar I wanant thee *." His character, 
 
 ♦ Harsnets Dcclaratim^ London, 1004, 4to. 
 
50 ON FAIRIES. 
 
 however^ in this piece, is so diabolical, and so dif- 
 ferent from any thing one could expect in Robin 
 Good-fellow, that it is unworthy of further quota- 
 tion. 
 
 He appears, likewise, in another, intitled Grim, 
 the collier of Croydon, in which he enters ^' in a 
 suit of leather close to his body -, his face and 
 hands coloured russet colour, with a ' flail.' " 
 
 He is here, too, in most respects, the same 
 strange and diabolical personage that he is repre- 
 sented in Wily beguiled ; only there is a single 
 passage which reminds us of his old habits : 
 
 " When as I list in this transformed disguise, 
 I *11 fright the country people as I pass ; 
 And sometimes turn me to some other form, 
 And so delude them with fantastic shews. 
 But woe betide the sOly dairy-maids, 
 For I shall fleet their cream-bowls night by night. " 
 
 In another scene he enters, while some of the 
 other characters are at a bowl of cream, upon which 
 he says, 
 
 '* I love a mess of cream as well as they, 
 I think it were best I stept in and made one : 
 Ho, ho, ho, my masters ! No good fellowship ? 
 Is Robin Good-fellow a bug-bear grown, 
 That he is not worthy to be bid sit down. " 
 
ON FAllilES. 51 
 
 There is^ indeed, something characteristic in 
 this passage, but all the rest is totally foreign. 
 
 Doctor Percy, bishop of Dromore, has re- 
 printed in his Reliqiies of ancient English poetry , 
 a very curious and excellent old ballad, originally 
 published by Peck, who attributes it, but with no 
 simihtude, to Ben Jonson j in which Robin Good- 
 fellow relates his exploits, with singular humour. 
 To one of these copies, he says, *^ were prefixed 
 two wooden cuts which seem to represent the 
 dresses in which this whimsical character was 
 formerly exhibited upon the stage." In this con- 
 jecture, however, the learned and ingenious editor 
 was most egregiously mistaken : these cuts being 
 manifestly printed from the identical blocks made 
 use of by Bulwer in his " Artificial changeling," 
 printed in 1615 ; the first being intended for one 
 of the black and white gallants of Seale-bay, 
 adorned with the moon, stars, S^c. the other a 
 hairy savage. After this discovery, originally 
 made by the present compiler, the right reverend 
 prelate changes liis tone, but cannot prevail upon 
 himself to part entirely with the dear illusion. 
 Having mentioned that these two wooden cuts are 
 '' said to be taken from Bulwers Artificial change- 
 ling, <^c. [a book, by the way, of easy access, and, 
 
 E 2 
 
52 ON FATRIKS. 
 
 probably enough in bis lordships own possession,] 
 which, as they seem to correspond [" Seems ! I 
 know not seems"] with the notions then enter- 
 tained of the whimsical appearances, of this fan- 
 tastic spirit, and pp:rhaps were copied in the 
 dresses in which he was formerly exhibited on the 
 stage, are, to gratify the curious [with an im- 
 posture] engraven below/* Nothing, surely was 
 ever more ridiculous and contemptible j we know 
 by these extracts how ^' he was formerly exhibited 
 upon the stage," and that it was not like a Seale^ 
 bay gallant or hairy savage ; and moreover, that 
 these blocks, manifestly engraved for Bulwers 
 work, in which are many others of the same kind, 
 were calculated merely to give an idea of some 
 barbarous nations in foreign parts, and could not, 
 possibly, have the most slight or distant allusion 
 to the English stage. How, therefore, durst this 
 learned but pertinacious prelate, (as, whatever he 
 was when he first published his book, he is now, 
 when he has given a new edition with alterations 
 and additions,) affirm that " all confidence 
 [had] BEEN destroyed" by the inadvertent 
 transposition of two syllables, and the omission of 
 a note of interrogation ; and that only in the preface 
 to a book, in which the passage occurs, accu- 
 
ON FAlllIES. 63 
 
 RATELY PRINTED 3 wLich passagc, by the way 
 he himself " being quoting," as he pretends " from 
 memory," (though he is not willing to allow a similar 
 apology to any one else, in the same case,) had 
 already corrupted, " the better," in his own words, 
 " to favour a position" that Maggy Lawder is an 
 " old song." 
 
 Burton, speeiking of fairies, says that *' a bigger 
 kind there is of them, called with Hobgoblins, and 
 Robin Good-fellowes, that would in those super- 
 stitious times, grinde corne for a messe of milke, 
 cut wood, or do any kind of drudgery worke." 
 Afterward, of the daemons that mislead men in the 
 night, he says, " We commonly call them Pucks *." 
 
 Cartwright, in The ordinary, introduces Moth, 
 repeating this curious charm : 
 
 "• Saint Francis, and Saint Benedight, 
 Blesse this house from wicked wight ; 
 From tlie night-mare, and the goblin 
 That is hight Good-fellow Robin ; 
 Keep it from all evil spirits, 
 Fairies, weezels, rats, and ferrets: 
 
 From curfew- time, 
 
 To the next prime-f*.*' 
 
 * Anatomy of melancholic. 
 f Act 3, scene 1. 
 
54 ON FAIRIES. 
 
 This Pack, or Robin Good-fellow, seems, like- 
 wise, to be the illusory candle -holder, so fatal to 
 travellers, and who is more usually called Jack-a- 
 lantern, or Will-with-a-wisp ; and, as it would 
 seem from a passage elsewhere cited from Scot 
 " Kit with the canstick" Thus a fairy, in a pass- 
 age of Shakspeare, already quoted, asks Robin, 
 
 " Are you not he 
 
 That fright the maidens of the villagery, 
 Mislead night- wanderers laughing at their hami ?** 
 
 Milton alludes to this deceptive gleam in the 
 following lines : 
 
 " A wandering fire, 
 
 Compact of unctuous vapour, which the night 
 
 Condenses, and the cold environs round. 
 
 Kindled through agitation to a flame, 
 
 Which oft, they say, some evil spirit attends, 
 
 Hovering and blazing with delusive light. 
 
 Misleads th* amaz'd night- wanderer from his way 
 
 To bogs, and mires, and oft through pond and pool *.'* 
 
 He elsewhere calls him '^ the friers lantern f." 
 
 * Paradise lost, B. 9. This great poet is frequently con- 
 tent to pilfer a happy expression from Shakspeare. — On this 
 occasion ** night-wanderer,** on a former *' the eastern- 
 
 -f Uallegro: 
 
 " And by ihe friers lantern led.*' 
 
ON FA I HIES. 55 
 
 This facetious spirit only misleads the benighted 
 traveller (generally an honest farmer, in his way 
 from the market, in a state of intoxication) for the 
 jokes sake ; as one, very seldom, if ever, hears any 
 of his deluded followers (who take it to be the 
 torch of Hero in some hospitable mansion, affording 
 '^ provision for man and horse") perishing in these 
 ponds or pools, through which they dance or plunge 
 after him so merrily. 
 
 " There go as manie tales," says Reginald Scot, 
 " upon Hudgin, in some parts of Germanic, as 
 there did in England of Robin Good-fellow. . . . 
 Frier Rush was for all the world such another 
 fellow as this Hudgin, and brought up even in the 
 same schoole ; to wit, in a kitchen : insomuch as 
 the selfe-same tale is written of the one as of the 
 other, concerning the skullian, who is said to have 
 beene slaine, <SfC. for the reading whereof I referre 
 you to frier Rush his storie, or else to John AMerus, 
 De prcestig'iis damonum *. ' * 
 
 In the old play of Gammer Gurtons needle, printed 
 in 1575, Hodge, describing a ** great black devil," 
 
 » Discoverie of "witchcraft, p. 521. The historic of 
 frier Rv.she, a common stall, or chap, book, in the time of 
 queen Elizabeth, and even down to the fire of London ; 
 since which event it has never been met with. The story of 
 Hudgin will be found among the Tales. 
 
56 ON FAIKIES. 
 
 which had been raised by Diccon the bedlam, and, 
 being asked by Gammer, 
 
 " But, Hodge, had he no horns to push ?" 
 
 replies : 
 
 " As long as your two arms. Saw ye never fryer rushe, 
 
 Painted on a cloth, with a side-long cowes tayle, 
 
 And crooked cloven feet, and many a hoked nayle. 
 
 For al the world (if I schuld judg) chould reckon him his 
 
 brother ; 
 Loke even what face frier Rush had, the devil had such 
 
 another.'* 
 
 The fairies frequented many parts of the 
 bishopric of Durham. There is a hillock, or 
 tumulus, near Bishop ton, and a large hill near Bil- 
 lingham^ both which used, in former time, to be 
 '' haunted by fairies." Even Ferrif-hiU, a well- 
 known stage between Darlington andjjurham, is 
 evidently a corruption of Fairy-hilL When seen, 
 by accident or favour, they are described as of the 
 smallest size, and uniformly habited in green. They 
 could, however, occasionally, assume a different 
 size and appearance ; as a woman, who had been 
 admitted into their society, challenged one of the 
 guests, whom she espied, in the market, selling 
 fairy-butter *. This freedom was deeply resented, 
 
 * This is well known, and frequently found on old trees, 
 gate-posts, &c. 
 
ON FAIRIES. 67 
 
 and cost her the eye she first saw him with. Mr. 
 Brand mentions his having met with a man, who 
 said he had seen one that had seen fairies. Tnitli, 
 he adds, is to come at, in most cases 3 none he be- 
 lieves ever came nearer to it, in this, than he has 
 done. However that may be, the present editor 
 cannot pretend to have been more fortunate. His 
 informant related that an acquaintance, in West- 
 moreland, hanng a great desire, and praying 
 earnestly to see a fairy, was told, by a friend, if 
 not a fairy in disguise, that on the side of such a 
 hill, at such a time of day, he should have a sight 
 of one ; and, accordingly, at the time and place 
 appointed, " the hob goblin," in his own words, 
 '' stood before him in the likeness of a green-coat 
 lad j" but, in the same instant, the spectators eye 
 glancing, vanished into the hill. This, lie said, 
 the man told him. 
 
 The streets of Newcastle, says Mr. Brand, 'Svere 
 formerly (so vulgar tradition has it) haunted by a 
 nightly guests which appeared in the shape of a 
 mastiff dog, SfC. and terrified such as were afraid of 
 shadows. I have heard," he adds, " when a boy, 
 many stories concerning it." It is to be lamented 
 that, as this gentleman was endeavouring to illus- 
 trate a very dull book, on this and similar subjects, 
 he did not think it worth his while to make it a 
 
58 ON FAIRIES. 
 
 little more interesting, or, at least, amusing, by a 
 few of these pleasant tales. 
 
 The no less famous harguest * of Durham, and 
 the Picktree-5ra^, have been already alluded to. 
 The former, beside its many other pranks, would, 
 sometimes, at the dead of night, in passing through 
 the different streets set up the most horrid and 
 continuous shrieks in order to scare the poor girls 
 who might happen to be out of bed. The compiler 
 of the present sheets remembers, when very young, 
 to have heard a respectable old woman, then a mid- 
 wife at Stockton, relate, that, when, in her youthful 
 days, she was a servant at Durham, being up late 
 one Saturday-night, cleaning the irons in the 
 kitchen, she heard these shrikes, first at a great, 
 and then at a less, distance, till, at length, the 
 loudest, and most horrible, that can be conceived, 
 just at the kitchen-window, sent her up-stairs, she 
 did not know how, where she fell into the arms of 
 a fellow- servant, who could scarcely prevent her 
 fainting away. 
 
 " Pioners or diggers for metal," according to 
 Lavater, " do afiirme, that, in many mines, there ap- 
 
 • The etymology of this word is, most probably, from the 
 Saxon bu|i5, a city, and sapr, a spirit: or, possibly, from a 
 bar, or gate, in York, which was, likewise, once haunted by a 
 goblin of this name. 
 
ON FAIUIES. 59 
 
 peare straunge shapes and spirites^ who are appa- 
 relled like unto other laborers in the pit. These 
 wander up and down in caves and underminings, 
 and seeme to bestuire themselves in all kinde of 
 labour, as to digge after the veine, to carrie to- 
 gither oare, to put it in baskets, and to tume the 
 winding-whele to drawe it up, when, in very 
 deede, they do nothing lesse. Tliey very seldome 
 hurte the laborers (as they say) except they pro- 
 voke them by laughing and rayling at them : for 
 then they threw gravel stones at them, or hurt 
 them by some other means. These are especially 
 haunting in pittes where mettall moste aboundeth*.'* 
 This is our great Miltons 
 
 " Swart faery of the minef." 
 
 * Of ghostes, &c. London, 1572, 4to. p. 73. He has 
 this from Sebastian Munster: see Ola us Magnus, L. 6, 
 c. 10. George Agricola, however, is the original author, — 
 whose words are *' Utut jocamnr genus eerie da&monum 
 injbdinis nonnuUis versari campertum est ; quorum quidem 
 nihil damni metallicis inferunt, sed in puteis vagant, videntur 
 se exercere : nunc cavando venam, nunc ingerendo in modulos 
 id quod effossum est, nunc machinam versando tractoriam, 
 nunc irritando operarios, idque potissimum faciunt in his 
 specubus e quibus multum argenti effoditur, vel magna ejus 
 inveniendi spes est" (Bermannus, 432.) He calls this dcemon 
 mctallicus., in German, *' Dus bcrgmelin.''^ 
 
 t Cotnus. 
 
60 ON FAIRIES. 
 
 '^ Simple foolish men imagine^ I know not 
 howe, that there be certayne elves or fairies of the 
 earthy and tell many straunge and marvellous tales 
 of them, which they have heard of their grand- 
 mothers and mothers, howe they have appeared 
 unto those of the house, have done service, have 
 rocked the cradell, and (which is a signe of good 
 lucke) do continually tary in the house*." 
 
 Mallet, though without citing any authority, 
 says " After all, the notion is not every where ex- 
 ploded that there are in the bowels of the earth 
 fairies, or a kind of dwarfish and tiny beings, of 
 human shape, and remarkable for their riches, their 
 activity, and malevolence. In many countries of 
 the north, the people are still firmly persuaded of 
 their existence. In Ireland, at this day, the good 
 folks shew the very rocks and hills, in which they 
 maintain that there are swarms of these small sub- 
 terraneous men, of the most tiny size, but the most 
 delicate figures f." 
 
 Sheringham, having mentioned the gods of the 
 Germans, adds, '^ Among us, truly, this supersti- 
 tion, and foolish credulity, among the vulgar, is not 
 yet left off ; for I know not what fables old women 
 suggest to boys and girls about elves (with us by 
 
 * OfghosU's, ,^c. p. 41). 
 
 t Northern Antiquities^ <Jc. ii, 47. 
 
ON FAIR IKS. ()1 
 
 another word called fairies), by which their tender 
 minds they so imbue, that they never depose these 
 old-wifish ravings, but deliver them to others, and 
 vulgarly affirm that groups of elves sometimes dance 
 in bed-chaml>ers, sometimes (that they may benefit 
 the maids) scour and cleanse the pavement, and 
 sometimes are wont to grind with a hand-mill*." 
 
 There is not a more generally received opinion, 
 throughout the principality of Wales, than that 
 of the existence of Fairies : amongst the com- 
 monalty it is, indeed, universal, and, by no means 
 unfrequently, credited by the second ranks f. 
 
 * De Aiiglorum origine, p. 320. This is the o'oservation 
 of a gloomy and malignant mind ; as the idea of a fairy could 
 never inspire any but pleasing sensations ; these little people 
 being always distinguished for their innocent mirth, and be- 
 nevolent utility. It was far otherwise, indeed, with supersfi- 
 fion and -vitchcruft., which, though equally false, were never- 
 theless, as firmly believed ; as they inducetl ignorance and 
 bigotry to commit horrid crimes; but nothing of this kind is 
 imputable to the fairies. So strongly, according to Waldron, 
 are the blanks possessed of the belief of fairies, and so 
 frequently do they imagine to have seen and heard them, that 
 they are not in the least terrified at them, but, on the contrary, 
 rejoice whenever visited by them, as supposing them friends to 
 mankind, and that they never come without bringing good 
 fortune along with them. They call them the good people^ all 
 the'houses are blessed where they visit. The Scots, likewise, 
 call them the good neighbours. 
 
 t Pratts Gleanings, &c. i, 137- He mentions a Welsh 
 
62 ON FAIRIES. 
 
 Fairies are said, at a distant period, " to have 
 frequented Bussers-hill in St. Marys island 5 but 
 their nightly pranks, aerial gambols, and cockle- 
 shell abodes, are now quite unknown*." 
 
 " Evil spirits, called fairies^ are frequently seen 
 in several of the isles [of Orkney], dancing, and 
 making merry, and sometimes seen in armour f." 
 
 clergyman, who not only believes in Fairies, but is even so 
 infatuated on the subject as to imagine they are continually in 
 his presence, and has written a book about them. 
 
 • Heaths Account of the islands of Scilly^ p. 129. 
 
 + Brands Description of Orkney^ Edin. 1703, p. 61 : at 
 p. 112, is some account of a, hro?my. 
 
TALE I. 
 
 ELIDOR, OR THE GOLDEN BALL. 
 
 There befell in the parts of Gower and 
 Swansey, in Wales, a thing not unworthy to be 
 remembered, which EHdor, the priest, most firmly 
 related to have happened to him. For when he 
 already reckoned the twelfth year of puerile in- 
 nocence, (because, as Solomon saith, the root of 
 learning is bitter, and the fruit sweet,) the boy, 
 addicted to letters, that he might avoid discipline, 
 and the frequent stripes of his preceptor, hid 
 himself, a fugitive, in the hollow bank of a certain 
 river : and, when he had now lurked there two 
 days, continually fasting, there appeared to him 
 two little men, as it were of pygmy stature, saying : 
 If thou wilt come with us, we will lead thee into 
 a land full of sports and delights : he assenting, 
 and rising up, followed them, leading the way, 
 through a road, at first, subterraneous and dark, 
 into a most beautiful country, very much embel- 
 
fi4 ELIDOR, 
 
 lished with rivers and meads, woods and plains, 
 nevertheless obseure, and not brightened with the 
 open light of tlie sun. All the days there were as 
 if cloudy, and the nights most hideous by the ab- 
 sence of moon and stars. The boy was brought 
 to the king, and presented to him before the court 
 of the realm, and, when he had a long time beheld 
 him, with the admiration of all, he, at length, re- 
 commending, assigned him to his son, a boy he 
 had. Now the men were of very small stature, 
 but, for their size, very well shaped : all yellow- 
 haired, and with luxuriant locks flowing down 
 their shoulders in the manner of a woman. They 
 had horses fit for their own height, with grey- 
 hounds conformable in size. They ate neither 
 flesh, nor fish, using, for the most part milky 
 food, and things made with saifron in the manner 
 of a pudding. There were no oaths among them } 
 for they detested nothing so much as lies. As 
 often as they returned from the upper hemisphere, 
 they reproached our ambitions, infidelities, and 
 inconstancies. There was no religious worship 
 among them openly j being only, it seemed,, chief 
 lovers and worshippers of truth. Now the boy 
 was wont frequently to ascend to our hemisphere, 
 sometimes by the way by which he had come, 
 sometimes by another -, at first with others, and 
 
oil THE GOLDKN BALL. 65 
 
 afterward by himself. He only committed him- 
 self to his mother, declaring to her the mode of 
 the country, and the nature and condition of the 
 people. Admonished, therefore, by his mother, 
 that he would sometimes bring to her a present 
 of the gold with which that country abounded, 
 the golden ball with which the kings son had 
 been accustomed to play, snatching it from him 
 in the game, he, speedily hastening, carried to 
 his mother, by the usual way j and, when he had 
 now come to his fathers house, yet not without 
 a train of that people, he hastened to enter, his 
 foot stuck in the threshold, and so, falling within 
 the house, where his mother was sitting, two 
 pygmies following his foot-step, seized the ball 
 which had fallen out of his hand, and, in going 
 out, threw spit, contempt and derision upon 
 the boy. He, verily, rising, and come to him- 
 self, was confounded with the wonderful shame 
 of the deed, and, when, very much cursing and 
 detesting the counsels of his mother, he prepared 
 to return by the road he had been accustomed to, 
 he came to the descent of the river, and subter- 
 raneous passage, no entrance appeared to him*. 
 
 * Girald Barry ^ lihicrnriutn CambricE, a Pouchy Londinu 
 1585, 8vo. p. 129. 
 
TALE II. 
 
 THE SILVER CUP. 
 
 There is a village a few miles distant 
 from the eastern sea, near which those famous 
 waters, they vulgarly call Gipse, burst out of the 
 earth with a numerous sprinkling. From this 
 village a certain rustic, having gone to salute a 
 friend dwelling in a neighbouring place, returned, 
 late at night, not perfectly sober : and, behold ! 
 from the next hill, which I have very often seen, 
 and is two or three furlongs from the village, he 
 heard the voices of persons singing, and, as it 
 were, festively banqueting. Wondering who, in 
 that place^ should break the silence of the 
 unseasonable night, he was willing to inspect 
 this matter more curiously, and seeing, in .the 
 side of the hill, a gate open, he approached and 
 looked within, and saw a house spacious and light- 
 some, and filled with people sitting, as well men 
 as women, as it were at a solemn feast. Now 
 
THE SILVKR CUP. 67 
 
 one of those ministering beholding a man standing 
 at the door, offered to him the cup : which he, 
 ha\nng accepted, would not, discreetly, drink of j 
 but, pouring out the contents, and retaining the 
 cup, hastily departed 3 ,and a tumult being made 
 in .the feast, for the taking away of the vessel, 
 and the guests pursuing him, he escaped by the 
 fleetness of the horse on which he was carried, 
 and betook himself into his village with his no- 
 table booty. Finally, this vessel, of unknown 
 material, and unusual form, was offered to Henry 
 king of the English for a great reward, and, after- 
 ward, being delivered to the queens brother, David, 
 that is, king of the Scots, was preserved, for a 
 great many years in the treasury of Scotland ; 
 and before some years (as we know from veracious 
 relation) was resigned by William king of the 
 Scots to Henry the second, who desired to see it*. 
 
 • W. of Newbrough, Historia rerum Anglicarum, k 
 Heame, p. 95. See Tarn o'Shanter^ in Burns's Poems, 
 
 f2 
 
TALE III. 
 
 THE ANTIPODES. 
 
 In Great Britain is a castle situate among cer- 
 tain mountains, to which the people have given 
 the name of Bech Its wall is hardly assailable, 
 and in the mountain the cavern of a hole, which 
 as a pipe of the winds, most powerfully belches 
 for the time. Whence so great a wind proceeds, 
 people are astonished -, and among a great many 
 things, which are carried about there with admira- 
 tion, I received from the most religious man, Robert 
 prior of Renildewlt, thence sprung, that when a 
 certain noble man William Peverell, possessed the 
 aforesaid castle, with the adjacent barony, a man, 
 truly, brave and powerful, and abounding in divers 
 animals : upon a certain day his swineherd, as he 
 was negligent about the service committed to him, 
 lost a pregnant sow, of the kind of those which bring 
 forth pigs, rather fruitful. Fearing, therefore, by 
 reason of the loss the bitter words of the lords 
 
THE ANTIPODES. 69 
 
 vicar, he thought within himself, if, perchance, 
 by any accident that sow had entered the famous 
 hole of Bech, but until those times inscrutable. 
 He questioned, in his mind, how he should make 
 himself the thorough -searcher of the secret place. 
 He entered the cavern in a time then tranquil 
 from all wind, and when he had proceeded a long 
 way, at length he came by chance from darkness 
 into a lucid place, opening into a spacious plain of 
 fields. Having entered the land widely cultivated, 
 he found persons collecting mature fruits, and, 
 among the standing corn, he recognized the sow, 
 which had multiplied from herself sucking pigs. 
 Then the swineherd, being astonished, and re- 
 joicing at his ' recovered* loss, received the sow, 
 and dismissed with joy, led her to the herd of 
 
 * Gervase of Tilbury, Otui hnpcrialiaf ajjud Scriptoreu 
 rerutn Brunsvicengium, d Leibnitz, I, 975. 
 
TALE IV. 
 
 THE CUP-BEARER. 
 
 There was in the county of Gloucester a hunt- 
 ing forest plentiful in boars, harts, and all venison 
 according to the manner of the English. In this 
 woody forest was a hillock, rising into a top to the 
 stature of a man, into which knights and other 
 hunters were accustomed to ascend, when, fatigued 
 with heat and thirst they sought some remedy of 
 their urgency. But some one, alone, his com- 
 panions, from the condition of the place and 
 business, being left at a distance, ascended : and 
 when alone, as if speaking to another, he said, I 
 thirst J immediately, on the sudden, by his side, 
 stood a cup-bearer, with a cheerful countenance, 
 and a stretched-out hand, bearing a great horn, 
 adorned with gold and precious stones, as the 
 manner is among the most ancient English, instead 
 of a cup, wherein was presented nectar of an un- 
 known but most sweet taste : which being drunk. 
 
THE CUP-BEARER. 71 
 
 all the heat and lassitude of his ' parched' body 
 fled, so that he would not believe that he was 
 fatigued, but willed to take fatigue. But, also, 
 the nectar being taken, the attendant held out a 
 very clean towel in order to dry his lips : and, his 
 service being accomplished he disappeared, nor 
 waited a reward for his kindness, or conversation 
 for enquiry. This, in many revolutions of ancient 
 time, was talked of among the oldest, as a thing 
 famous and familiar. Finally, a certain hunter, a 
 knight, for the sake of hunting came to the said 
 place, and drink being requested, and the horn 
 taken, he did not (as it was of custom and urbanity) 
 restore it to the cup-bearer, but retained it to his 
 own use. But the illustrious lord, and earl of 
 Gloucester^, the truth of the matter being dis- 
 covered, condemned the robber, and gave the horn 
 to the elder Henry king of the English, that he 
 might not be reputed to have been the favourer of 
 so great a crime, if he had deposited, in his trea- 
 sury, anothers rapine of domestic property f. 
 
 * Robert, that is, the natural son of king Henry I. 
 -»- Gervase of Tilbury, D. 3. 
 
TALE V. 
 
 HUTGIN. 
 
 In these times, a certain malignant spirit, in the 
 diocese of Hildesheim, for a long time, appeared 
 visibly to many, in a rustic habit, his head covered 
 with a hood, whence, also, vulgarly the peasants 
 called him hooded, that is, ein Hedeckhif in the 
 Saxon tongue. This spirit, Hutgin, did many mar- 
 vels, and delighted to be with men, speaking, 
 questioning, and answering familiarly to all, appear- 
 ing, sometimes, visibly, sometimes, invisibly. He 
 hurt no man, not being before hurt 3 but mindful of 
 injury or derision, he bestowed, in his turn, shame 
 to those bestowing it on himself. When Burcard 
 count of Luc had been killed by count Herman of 
 Winsenburg, and the county of Winsenburg seemed 
 exposed to robbery, the aforesaid spirit, coming 
 to Bernard bishop of Hildesheim, sleeping in his 
 bed, waked him, saying : *' Rise, o thou bald fellow, 
 convoke thy army, because the county of Winsen- 
 
•''VE^S 
 
 HUTGIN. 73 
 
 burg, being vacant and desolate on account of ho- 
 micide, thou wilt easily obtain the government." 
 The bishop, rising, warned his knights, invaded, 
 and obtained, the county, which to the church of 
 Hildesheim, with the consent of the emperor, he 
 united in perpetuity. The same spirit, likewise, 
 without being asked, oftentimes used to advise him 
 in many dangers. Frequently appearing in the 
 court of the same bishop, he used to serve the cooks 
 for the most part with sufficient diligence, and to 
 mingle frequent discourses with them : whence, 
 when now, from custom, made familiar, he was 
 feared by no man, a certain boy serving in the 
 kitchen, began to despise, laugh to scorn, and ^ as- 
 sail' him with bitter taunts, and, as often as he 
 could, poured upon him the filth of the kitchen. 
 He had often requested the master of the kitchen, 
 that the boy should abstain from his injuries 3 
 threatening, at length, to avenge them -, he was 
 scoffed at by him, saying, " Thou art a spirit, and 
 dost thou fear a boy ?" To whom the daemon replied • 
 *' Because thou art a boy thou despisest to amend at 
 my petition, I, how much I fear that, will, after a 
 few days, shew thee." These things said, the spirit 
 departed in a passion. Not long after, when, on a 
 certain day, after vespers, the boy, alone in the 
 kitchen, being fatigued, slept, the spirit came, and 
 
14 HUTGIN. 
 
 ' having' him suffocated, cut in pieces, and, being 
 put into tlie pot, began to cook him at the fire : 
 which when the master of the kitchen had per- 
 ceived, he began to curse the spirit 3 who, being 
 irritated, the roast meat put on spits at the fire for 
 the next days dinner of the bishop and courtiers, 
 two horrible toads being thereupon squeezed, 
 besprinkled with the poison and blood of those 
 animals : and being again affected with bitter 
 taunts, he precipitated him from on high, by the 
 bridge, into a deep hole. Upon the walls of the 
 city and castle diligently going round, in the night- 
 time, he forced all the guards to watch. A certain 
 man, about to go a long way, when he had an un- 
 chaste wife, as if by way of joke, said to the spirit 
 Hutgin : ^' Good fellow, I commend to thee my wife 
 till I shall return, see thou guard her :" and when, 
 the husband being absent, the woman would em- 
 ploy her portion in adultery, and tempted, succes- 
 sively, many lovers, so that this spirit, invisibly, 
 always interposed in the midst, and the men being 
 thrown from the bed upon the ground, permitted 
 no one to arrive even at the touch of that woman. 
 So the woman, every night, and almost every hour, 
 in the whole time, always introduced new lovers : 
 whom, nevertheless, the spirit, as soon as they at- 
 tempted to touch her, cast far off upon the ground. 
 
HUTGIN. 75 
 
 At length, the husband returning, and being yet a 
 long way from the house, the commissary spirit, 
 joyful, met him, saying : " Thy arrival is very 
 pleasing to me, by which I may be freed from the so 
 unquiet labour, which thou hast imposed upon me." 
 The husband said: " What, therefore, art thou?" 
 " I, he said, am Hutgin, to whom, some time ago, 
 about to depart, thou committedst thy wife to be 
 kept. Behold, I have guarded her for thee, al- 
 though with ven' great and continual labour, safe 
 from adultery. But I pray thee, that thou wilt 
 not henceforth deliver her to me to be guarded. 
 For I had rather guard the hogs of all Saxony, than 
 thy one very wife, she has tried, with so great 
 frauds to circumvent me, and in so many ways, to 
 abuse her body." This spirit did, likewise, innu- 
 merable other miracles, as well serious, as ridicu- 
 lous, all which cannot be easily written, nor if they 
 were written, would they find the belief of many. 
 A certain idiot and simple man, a clerk, being cited 
 to the synod, by a ring made of laurel-leaves, certain 
 others being added, they report him, in a short time, 
 to have rendered the most learned. At length, by 
 the aforesaid bishop Bernard being turned out of 
 doors by ecclesiastical censures, he was compelled 
 to depart from the province*. 
 
 * Trithemius, apud Wiirinn^ De procstigiis dcvmonum, 
 Basilca-y 1583, 4to, p. 114. 
 
TALE VI, 
 
 THE PIKD PIPER, 
 
 There came into the town of Hamel, in the 
 countrey of Brunswyc [in Saxony], an od kynd of 
 compagnion, who, for the fantastical cote which 
 hee wore, beeing wrought with sundry colours, was 
 called the pyed pyper 3 for a pyper hee was, be- 
 sydes his other qualities. This fellow forsooth, 
 ofFred the townsmen, for a certain somme of mony, 
 to rid the town of all the rattes that were in it (for, 
 at that time, the burgers were with that vermin 
 greatly annoyed). The accord, in fyne, beeing 
 made, the pyed pyper, with a shril pype^ went 
 pyping through the streets, and foorthwith the rattes 
 came all running out of the howses in great numbers 
 after himj all which hee led unto the river of 
 Weaser, and therein drowned them. This donne, 
 and no one rat more perceaved to bee left in the 
 town, he afterward came to demaund his reward, 
 according to his bargain : but beeing told that the 
 
THE TIED PIPER 77 
 
 bargain was not made with him in good earnest, to 
 wit, with an opinion that ever hee could bee able to 
 do such a feat, they cared not what they accorded 
 unto, when they imagyned it could never be de- 
 served, and so never to bee demaunded : but, 
 neverthelesse, seeing hee had donne such an un- 
 lykely thing in deed, they were content to give him 
 a good reward, and so offred him far lesse than hee 
 lookt for 3 but hee, therewith discontented, said he 
 would have his ful recompence, according to his 
 bargain 3 but they utterly denying to give it him, 
 hee threatened them with revenge j they bad him 
 do his wurst : whereupon he betakes him again to 
 his pype, and, going through the streets as before, 
 was followed of a number of boyes out at one of 
 the gates of the citie j and, coming to a litle hil, 
 there opened in the syde thereof a wyde hole, into 
 the which himself and all the children, beeing in 
 number one hundredth and thirty, did enter 3 and 
 beeing entred, the hil closed up again, and became 
 as before. A boy, that, beeing lame, and came 
 somwhat lagging behynd the rest, seeing this that 
 hapned, returned presently back, and told what hee 
 had seen. Foorthwith began great lamentation 
 among the parents for their children, and men were 
 sent out with all dilligence, both by land and by 
 water, to enquyre yf ought could bee heard of them : 
 
78 THE PIED PIPER. 
 
 but with all the enquyrie they could possibly use, 
 nothing more then is aforesaid could of them bee 
 understood. In memorie whereof it was then or- 
 dayned. That from thence-foorth no drum, p}7)e, or 
 other instrument should bee sounded in the street 
 leading to the gate through which they had passed 3 
 nor no osterie to bee there holden : and it w^as 
 also established, that, from that tyme forward, in 
 all publyke wrytings that should bee made in that 
 town, after the date therein set down of the yeare 
 of our lord, the date of the yeare of the going foorth 
 of their children should bee added 3 the which they 
 have accordingly ever since continued : and this 
 great wonder hapned on the 22. day of July, in the 
 yeare of our lord one thowsand three hundreth, 
 seaventie and six*. 
 
 ♦ Verstegans Restitution of decayed intelligence: Ant- 
 werp, 1605, 4to. p. 85. 
 
TALE VII. 
 
 THE SHEPHERDS DREAM. 
 
 A SHEPHEARD, wliilst liis flock did feede, 
 
 him in his cloke did wrap. 
 Bids Patch his dog stand sentenell, 
 
 both to secure a nap, 
 And, lest his bagpipe, sheephooke, skrip, 
 
 and bottell (most his wealth) 
 By vagrants (more then, many now) 
 
 might suffer of their stealth. 
 As he twixt sleepe and waking lay, 
 
 against a greene banks side, 
 A round of Fairie-elves, and Larrs 
 
 of other kind, he spide : 
 Who, in their dancing, him so charm 'd, 
 
 that though he wakt he slept, 
 Now pincht they him, antickt about, 
 
 and on, and off him lept. 
 Mongst them, of bigger bulke and voyce, 
 
 a bare-breecht goblin was. 
 
80 THE SHEPHERDS DREAM. 
 
 That at their gamboles laughed, like 
 
 the braying of an asse. 
 At once the shepherds bagpipe (for 
 
 they also used it) 
 Was husht, and round about him they, 
 
 as if in councell, sit. 
 Upon whose face the breechlesse Larr 
 
 did set his buttocks bare. 
 Bespeaking thus his beau-compeers, 
 
 like Caiphas in his chaire. 
 Poore Robin Good- fellow, sweet elfs, 
 
 much thanks you for this glee. 
 Since last I came into this land, 
 
 a raritie to see : 
 When nunnes, monks, friers, and votaries, 
 
 were here of every sort. 
 We were accustomed, ye wot, 
 
 to this and merrier sport. 
 Wo worth (may our great Pan, and we 
 
 his puples say) that frier. 
 That by revealing Christ obscur'd 
 
 to Christ did soules retire. 
 For since great Pans great vicar on 
 
 the earth was disobaid 
 In England, I, beyond the seas, 
 
 a mal-content have staid. 
 
THE SHEPHERDS DREAM. 81 
 
 Whence, by a brute of pouder that. 
 
 should blow to heaven or hell 
 The protestants, I hither came, 
 
 where all'I found too well : 
 And in the catholick maine cause, 
 
 small hope or rather none j 
 No sooner, therefore was I come, 
 
 but that I wisht me gone. 
 Was then a merry world with us, 
 
 when Mary wore the crowne. 
 And holy -water -sprinkle was 
 
 belecvd to put us downe. 
 Ho, ho, Uo, bo, needs must I laugh^, 
 
 such fooleries to name : 
 Ai^d at my crummed mess of milke, 
 
 each night, from maid or dame 
 To do their chares, as they supposd, 
 
 when in their deadest sleepe 
 I puld them out their beds, and made 
 
 themselves their houses sweepe. 
 How clatterd I amongst their pots 
 
 and pans, as dreamed they ! 
 My hempen hampen sentence*, when 
 
 some tender foole would lay 
 
 • " Indeed," says Reginald Scot, " your p^randams 
 maides were woont to set a boll of niilke before him [^Innihus^ 
 and his cousine Robin Good-fellow, for grinding of malt or 
 mustard, and sweeping the house at midnight : and you have 
 
 G 
 
82 THE SHEPHERDS BREAM. 
 
 Me shirt or slop, them greeved, for 
 
 I then would go away. 
 Yee fairies too made mothers, if 
 
 weake faith, to sweare that ye 
 Into their beds did foist your babes, 
 
 and theirs exchang'd to be. 
 When yee (that elvish manners did 
 
 from ehish shapes observe) 
 By pinching her, that beat that child, 
 
 made child and mother swerve. 
 This in that erd beliefe. That, not 
 
 corrected, bad that grew • 
 Thus yee, I, pope, and cloysterers, 
 
 all in one teame then drew. 
 But all things have gone crosse with us 
 
 since here the gospell shind. 
 Nor helps it aught that she that it 
 
 unclowded is inshrind*. 
 Well, though our Romish exorcists 
 
 and regulars be outed, 
 
 also heard that he would chafe exceedingly, if the maid or 
 good-wife of the house, having compassion on his nakednes, 
 laid anie clothes for him, beesides his messe of white bread 
 and milke, which was his standing fee. For in that case he 
 saith, what have we here ? 
 Hemton hamten^ 
 Here will I never more tread nor stampen." 
 
 Dlscoverie of witchcraft^ p. 85. 
 * Queen Elizabeth. 
 
THE SHEPHKRDS DREAM. 83 
 
 No lesse hypocrisie mongst some 
 
 their contraries is doubted : 
 And may they so persever and 
 
 so perish Robin prayes : 
 But too too zealous people are 
 
 too many cloy my wayes. 
 For that this realme is in the right, 
 
 Rome in the wrong for loore, 
 I must confesse, though much is else 
 
 as faultie as before. 
 To farmers came I, that, at least, 
 
 their lofe and cheese once freed. 
 For all would eate, but found themselves 
 
 the parings now to need : 
 So do their landlords rack their rents : 
 
 though in the mannor-place 
 Scarce smoakt a chimney: yet did smoke 
 
 perplex me in strange cace. 
 I saw the chimneys cleerd of fire, 
 
 where nerethelesse it smokt 
 So bitterly, as one not used 
 
 to like, it might have chokt. 
 But when I saw it did proceed 
 
 from nostrels, and from throtes 
 Of ladies, lords, and sillie groomes, 
 
 not burning skins nor cotes, 
 
 G 2 
 
84 THE SHEPHKRDS DREAM. 
 
 Great Belsabub, thought I, can all 
 
 spit fier as well as thine ? 
 Or where am I ? it cannot be 
 
 under the torred line. 
 My fellow Incubus (who heere 
 
 still residence did keepe, 
 Witnes so many dadlesse babes 
 
 begot on girles asleepe*) 
 Did put me by that feare, and said 
 
 it was an Indian weede. 
 That feum'd away more wealth than would 
 
 a many thousands feed. 
 Freed of that feare, the novelty 
 
 of cooches scath'd me so. 
 As from their drifts and cluttering 
 
 I knew not where to go. 
 These also worke, quoth Incubus, 
 
 to our availe, for why } 
 They tend to idle pride, and to 
 
 inhospitalitie. 
 With that I, comforted, did then 
 
 peepe into every one, 
 
 * Gervase of Tilbury says " Vidimus quosdam dcemones 
 tanto zelo muUeres amare^ quod ad inatidita prorumpiuit hi- 
 dibria, et e?im ad concubitiim carum acceditnt iriira mole eas 
 opprimunt, necabalns videntur.'** Otia imperiaha, D. 1, c. 17- 
 
THE SHEPHEllDS DREAM. 
 
 65 
 
 And of mine old acquaintances 
 
 spide many a countrie Jone, 
 Whose fathers drove the dung-cart^ though 
 
 the daughters now will none. 
 1 knew when prelates, and the peeres 
 
 had faire attendance on. 
 By gentlemen and yeomandrie, 
 
 but that faire world is gone : 
 For most, like Jehu, hurrie with 
 
 pedanties two or three, 
 Yet all go downe the winde, save those 
 
 that hospitalious bee. 
 Great'st ladies with their women, on 
 
 their palfries mounted faire 
 Rode through the streets, well waited on, 
 
 their artless faces bare, 
 Which now in coches scorne to be 
 
 salued of the aire. 
 1 knew when men-judicial rode 
 
 on sober mules, whereby 
 They might of suters, these, and they, 
 
 aske, answere, and replie. 
 1 knew wh(in more was thriv'd abroad 
 
 by war than now by peace. 
 And English feard where they be frumpt, 
 
 since hostile tearmes did cease : 
 But by occasion, all things are 
 
 produced, be, decrease. 
 
86 THE SHEPHERDS DREAM. 
 
 Times were when practize also preacht, 
 
 and well-said was well-done. 
 When courtiers cleerd the old before 
 
 they on the new would run. 
 When no judiciall place was bought, 
 
 lest justice might be sould. 
 When quirts, nor quillets, overthrew, 
 
 or long did causes hold. 
 When lawyers more deservd their fees, 
 
 and fatted lesse with gold. 
 When to the fifteenth psalme, sometimes, 
 
 had citizens recourse. 
 When lords of farmers, farmers of 
 
 the poore had more remorse. 
 When Povertie had Patience more : 
 
 when none, as some of late. 
 Illiterate, ridiculous, 
 
 might on the altar wate. 
 When canons, rubrick, liturgie, 
 
 and disciphne throughout 
 One shiftlesse practise had, not to 
 
 indifFerencie a flout. 
 More than be convocations now, 
 
 Diocessors were stout. 
 Although in clarks pluralities 
 
 were tolerated then 
 Of lemmens (livings should I say) 
 are now of clargie-men. 
 
THE SHEPHERDS DREAM. 87 
 
 Pluralitie that huddle, have 
 
 also their brace of wives : 
 But all the better, all that while 
 
 hells heer-imployment thrives. 
 That thus and worse hold, and increase, 
 
 sith Rome may not returne. 
 Pray, fairies, graunt, infernals, that 
 
 in fire of envie burne. 
 1 have, faire fairie-elfes, besides 
 
 large catalogue of sinne. 
 Observed in this land, in this 
 
 short time I heere have bin. 
 The which at my departure, when 
 
 Elizabeth first raign'd. 
 Were not in beeing, or were then 
 
 religiously refraind. 
 Howbeit, hence for Ireland at 
 
 the least I must transfreat : 
 Where Rome hath roome there riot I : 
 
 somes faith is heere too great. 
 Yet largelier than most statesmen know, 
 
 heere could I sport long while. 
 In sociable is not, ywis, 
 
 for catholics this ile. 
 Suppose the shepheard all this while 
 
 to have a troubled sleepe : 
 Well might he heare the preachment, by 
 
 the pulpit could not peepe ; 
 
88 THE SHKPHKRDS DREAM. 
 
 Till merrie Robin^ gerding out 
 
 a scape or twaine, did rise. 
 And, with the wind therof, might see me, 
 
 were cleerd the shepherds eyes : 
 \Mio glad he was deliverd so 
 
 of them, then vanisht cleene. 
 Told some> I know not whom, what ye 
 
 have heard was said and seene** 
 
 * Warners Albions England, London, 1612, 8vo. chap. 
 91. 
 
TALE VllJ. 
 
 NYMPHIDIA : THK COURT OF PAt^Y. 
 
 Old Chaucer dbth of Topas tell. 
 Mad Rabelais of Pantagruel, 
 A latter third of Dowsabel, 
 
 With such poor trifles playing r 
 Others the like have laboui^'d at, 
 Some of this thing, and some of that. 
 And matiy of they know not what. 
 
 But that th^y must be saying. 
 
 Another sort there be, that will 
 Be talking of the fairies still. 
 Nor ' ever* can they have their fill 
 
 As they were wedded to them : 
 No tales of them their thirst can' slake. 
 So much delight therein they take. 
 And some strange Ifhing they fain would make, 
 
 KneW they the' way to db them. 
 
90 NYMPHIDIA. 
 
 Then since no muse hath been so bold. 
 Or of the later, or the old. 
 Those elvish secrets to unfold. 
 
 Which lie from others reading ; 
 My active muse to light shall bring 
 The court of that proud fairy king, 
 And tell there of the revelling : 
 
 Jove prosper my proceeding. 
 
 And thou, Nymphidia, gentle fay. 
 Which, meeting me upon the way. 
 These secrets didst to me bewray. 
 
 Which now I am in telling : 
 My pretty, light, fantastic maid, 
 I here invoke thee to my aid. 
 That I may speak what thou hast said. 
 
 In numbers smoothly swelling. 
 
 This palace standeth in the air. 
 By necromancy placed there. 
 That it no ' tempest' needs to fear. 
 
 Which way soe'er it blow it : 
 And somewhat southward tow'rd the noon. 
 Whence lies a way up to the moon. 
 And thence the fairy can as soon 
 
 Pass to the earth below it. 
 
NYMPHTDIA. 91 
 
 The walls of spiders legs are made. 
 Well morticed and finely laid 5 
 He was the master of his trade 
 
 It curiously that builded : 
 The windows of the eyes of cats. 
 And for the roof, instead of slates. 
 Is cover'd with the skins of bats. 
 
 With moonshine that are gilded. 
 
 Hence Oberon, him sport to make, 
 (Their rest when wear^^ mortals take. 
 And none bu^nly fairies wake) 
 
 Descendetn for his pleasure : 
 And Mab, his merry queen, by night 
 Bestrides young folks that lie upright, 
 (In elder times the mare that hight) 
 
 Which plagues them out of measure. 
 
 Hence shadows, seeming idle shapes 
 
 Of little frisking elves and apes. 
 
 To earth do make their wanton scapes. 
 
 As hope of pastime hastes them : 
 Which maids think on the hearth they see. 
 When fires well- near consumed be. 
 There dancing hayes by two and three. 
 
 Just as their fancy casts them. 
 
9S NYMrHIDlA. 
 
 These make our girls their slutt'ry rue. 
 By pinching them both black and blue. 
 And put a penny in their shoe, 
 
 ITie house for cleanly sweeping : 
 And in their courses make that round. 
 In meadows and in marshes found. 
 Of them so call'd the fairy-ground. 
 
 Of which they have the keeping. 
 
 These, when a child haps to be got. 
 Which after proves an idiot, 
 AVhen folk perceive it thriveth not. 
 
 The fault therein to smother. 
 Some silly doating brainless calf. 
 That understands things by the half, 
 ' Says' that the fairy left this aulf. 
 
 And took away the other. 
 
 But listen, and 1 shall you tell, 
 
 A chance in Fairy that befell. 
 
 Which, certainly, may please some well. 
 
 In love and arms delighting, 
 Of Oberon, that jealous grew. 
 Of one of his own fairy crew. 
 Too well (he fear'd) his queen that knew. 
 
 His love but ill requiting. 
 
NVMPHIDIA. 
 
 Pigwiggen was this fair)- knight. 
 
 One wond'rous gracious in the sight 
 
 Of fair queen Mab, which day and night, 
 
 He amorously observed : 
 Which made king Oberon suspect 
 His service 'took too good effect. 
 His sauciness and often check'd, 
 
 And could have wish'd him starved. 
 
 Pigwiggen gladly would commend 
 Some token to queen Mab to send, 
 If sea or land him aught could lend 
 
 Were worthy of her wearing. 
 At length this lover doth devise 
 A bracelet made of emmets eyes, 
 A thing he thought that she would prize, 
 
 No whit her state impairing. 
 
 And to the queen a letter writes. 
 Which he most curiously indites. 
 Conjuring her by all the rites 
 
 Of love, she would be pleased 
 To meet him, her true servant, where 
 They might without suspect or fear 
 Themselves to one another clear. 
 
 And have their poor hearts eased. 
 
94 NYMPHIDIA. 
 
 ^' At midnight the appointed hour. 
 And for the queen a fitting bow'r, 
 (Quoth he) is that fair cowslip flow'r. 
 
 On Hipcut-hill that groweth. 
 In all your train there's not a fay. 
 That ever went to gather May, 
 But she hath made it in her way. 
 
 The tallest there that groweth." 
 
 When by Tom Thum, a fairy page. 
 He sent it, and doth him engage. 
 By promise of a mighty wage. 
 
 It secretly to carry. 
 Wliich done, the queen her maids doth call. 
 And bids them to be ready all. 
 She would go see her summer-hall. 
 
 She could no longer tarry. 
 
 Her chariot ready straight is made. 
 Each thing therein is fitting laid. 
 That she by nothing may be stay'd. 
 
 For naught must her be letting : 
 Four nimble gnats the horses were. 
 Their harnesses of gossamere. 
 Fly Cranion, her charioteer. 
 
 Upon the coach-box getting. 
 
NYMPHIDIA. 95 
 
 Her chariot of a snails fine shell. 
 Which for the colours did excell ; 
 The fair queen Mab becoming well. 
 
 So lively was the limning : 
 The seat the soft wool of the bee, 
 The cover (gallantly to see) 
 The wing of a py'd butterflee 
 
 I trow, 'twas simple trimming. 
 
 The wheels compos'd of crickets bones. 
 And daintily made for the nonce j 
 For fear of rattling on the stones. 
 
 With thistle-douTi they shod it : 
 For all her maidens much did fear. 
 If Oberon had chanc'd to hear. 
 That Mab his queen should have been there. 
 
 He would not have abode it. 
 
 She mounts her chariot ' in' a trice, 
 Nor would she stay, for no advice. 
 Until her maids, that were so nice. 
 
 To wait on her were fitted, 
 But ran herself away alone ; 
 Which when they heard, there was not one. 
 But hasted after to be gone. 
 
 As she had been diswitted. 
 
96 NYMPHIDIA. 
 
 Hop, and Mop, and Drap so clear, 
 Pip, and Trip, and Skip, that were 
 To Mab, their sovereign [most] dear. 
 
 Her special maids of honour -, 
 Fib, and Tib, and Pink, and Pin, 
 Tick, and Quick, and Jil, and Jin, 
 Tit, and Nit, and Wap, and Win, 
 
 The train that wait upon her. 
 
 Upon a grasshopper they got. 
 
 And, what with amble and with trot. 
 
 For hedge ' or ' ditch they spared not, 
 
 But after her they hye them. 
 A cobweb over them they throw. 
 To shield the wind if it should blow. 
 Themselves they wisely could bestow. 
 
 Lest any should espy them. 
 
 But let us leave queen Mab a while. 
 Through many a gate, o'er many a stile. 
 That now had gotten by this wile. 
 
 Her dear Pigwiggen kissing 3 
 And tell how Oberon doth fare 
 Who grew as mad as any hare. 
 When he had sought each place with care. 
 
 And found his queen was missing. 
 
NYMPHTDIA. 97 
 
 By giiesly Pluto he doth swear. 
 
 He rent his clothes, and tore his hair. 
 
 And as he runneth here and there. 
 
 An acron-cup he getteth j 
 Which soon he taketh by the stalk. 
 About his head he lets it walk. 
 Nor doth he any creature baulk. 
 
 But lays on all he meeteth. 
 
 The Tuscan poet doth advance 
 
 The frantic Paladine of France, / 
 
 And those more ancient do inhance 
 
 Alcides in his fury j 
 And others Ajax Telamon : 
 But to this time there hath been none 
 So bedlam as our Oberon, 
 
 Of which I dare assure ye. 
 
 And first encount'ring with a wasp. 
 
 He in his arms the fly doth clasp. 
 
 As tho' his breath he forth would grasp. 
 
 Him for Pigwiggen taking : 
 Where is my wife, thou rogue ? (quoth he), 
 Pigwiggen, she is come to thee ; 
 Restore her, or thou dy'st by me. 
 
 Whereat the poor wasp quaking. 
 
98 NYMPHIDIA. 
 
 Cries^ Oberon^ great Fairy king, 
 Content thee, I am no such thing j 
 I am a wasp, behold my sting ! 
 
 At which the fairy started. 
 When soon away the wasp doth go. 
 Poor wretch was never frighted so. 
 He thought his wings were much too slow, 
 
 O eqoy'd they so were parted. 
 
 He next upon a glow-worm light, 
 (You must suppose it now was night) 
 Which, for her hinder part was bright. 
 
 He took to be a devil 3 
 And furiously doth her assail 
 For carrying fire in her tail 3 
 He thrash'd her rough coat with his flail. 
 
 The mad king fear'd no evil. 
 
 Oh ! (quoth the glow-worm) hold thy hand. 
 
 Thou puissant king of Fairy-land, 
 
 Thy mighty strokes who may withstand } 
 
 Hold, or of life despair I. 
 Together then herself doth roll. 
 And tumbling down into a hole. 
 She seem'd as black as any coal. 
 
 Which vext away the fairy. 
 
NYMPHIDIA. 99 
 
 From thence he ran into a hive. 
 Amongst the bees he letteth drive. 
 And down their combs begins to rive. 
 
 All likely to have spoiled : 
 Which with their wax his face besmear'd. 
 And with their honey daub'd his beard j 
 It would have made a man affear'd. 
 
 To see how he was moiled. 
 
 A new adventure him betides : 
 He met an ant, which he bestrides. 
 And post thereon away he rides. 
 
 Which with his haste doth stumble j 
 And came full over on her snout. 
 Her heels so threw the dirt about. 
 For she by no means could get out. 
 
 But over him doth tumble. 
 
 And being in this piteous case. 
 And all beslurried head and face. 
 On runs he in this wild-goose chase. 
 
 As here and there he rambles. 
 Half blind, against a mole-hill hit. 
 And for a mountain taking it. 
 For all he was out of his wit. 
 
 Yet to the top he scrambles. 
 
 H 2 
 
100 l^YMPHIDIA. 
 
 And being gotten to the top. 
 
 Yet there himself he could not stop, 
 
 But down on th' other side doth chop. 
 
 And to the foot came rumbling : 
 So that the grubs therein that bred. 
 Hearing such turmoil over head. 
 Thought surely they had all been dead. 
 
 So fearful was the jumbling. 
 
 And falling down into a lake. 
 Which him up to the neck doth take. 
 His fury it doth somewhat slake. 
 
 He calleth for a ferry : 
 Where you may some recovery note. 
 What was his club he made his boat. 
 And in his oaken cup doth float. 
 
 As safe as in a wherry. 
 
 Men talk of the adventures strange 
 Of Don Quishot, and of their change. 
 Through which he armed oft did range. 
 
 Of Sancho Panchas travel : 
 But should a man tell every thing 
 Done by this frantic fairy king, 
 And them in lofty numbers sing. 
 
 It well his wits might gravel. 
 
NVMPHIDIA. 101 
 
 Scarce set on shore, but therewithal 
 He meeteth Puck, which most men call 
 Hob-goblin, and on him doth fall 
 
 With words from frenzy spoken : 
 Hoh, lioh, quoth Hob, god save thy grace 
 Who dress'd thee in this piteous case ? 
 He thus that spoil'd my sov'reigns face 
 
 I would his neck were broken. 
 
 This Puck seems but a dreaming dolt. 
 Still walking like a ragged colt. 
 And oft out of a bush doth bolt. 
 
 Of purpose to deceive us ; 
 And, leading us, makes us to stray. 
 Long winters nights out of the way. 
 And, when we stick in mire and clay. 
 
 He doth with laughter leave us. 
 
 Dear Puck, quoth he, my wife is gone. 
 As ' e'er' thou lov'st king Oberon, 
 Let every thing but this alone. 
 
 With vengeance and pursue her : 
 Bring her to me, alive or dead j 
 Or that vile thief Pigwiggens head j 
 That villain hath defil'd my bed. 
 
 He to this folly drew her. 
 
10^ NYMPHIDIA. 
 
 Quoth Puck, My liege, I '11 never lin. 
 But I will thorough thick and thin. 
 Until at length I bring her in. 
 
 My dearest lord, ne'er doubt it. 
 Thorough brake, thorough brier. 
 Thorough muck, thorough mier. 
 Thorough water, thorough fier. 
 
 And thus goes Puck about it. 
 
 This thing Nymphidia overhear'd. 
 That on this mad king had a guard. 
 Not doubting of a great reward. 
 
 For first this business broaching : 
 And through the air away doth go. 
 Swift as an arrow from the bow. 
 To let her sovereign Mab to know 
 
 What peril was approaching. 
 
 The queen, bound with loves pow'rful'st charm. 
 
 Sate with Pigwiggen arm in arm 3 
 
 Her merry maids, that thought no harm. 
 
 About the room were skipping : 
 A humble-bee, their minstrel, play'd 
 Upon his hautbois, ev'ry maid. 
 Fit for this revel, was array'd. 
 
 The hornpipe neatly tripping. 
 
NYMPHIDIA. 103 
 
 In comes Nymphidia, and doth cry, 
 " My sovereign, for your safety fly. 
 For there is danger but too nigh, 
 
 I posted to forewarn you : 
 The king hath sent Hob-goblin out. 
 To seek you all the fields about. 
 And of your safety you may doubt. 
 
 If he but once discern you/' 
 
 When, like an uproar in a town. 
 Before them every thing went down ; 
 Some tore a ruff, and some a gown, 
 
 'Gainst one another justling 
 They flew about like chaff i' th' wind ; 
 For haste some left their masks behind. 
 Some could not stay their gloves to find ; 
 
 There never was such bustling. 
 
 Forth ran they by a secret way. 
 Into a brake that near them lay. 
 Yet much they doubted there to stay. 
 
 Lest Hob should hap to find them : 
 He had a sharp and piercing sight. 
 All one to him the day and night. 
 And therefore were resolv'd by flight. 
 
 To leave this place behind them. 
 
101^ NYMPHIDIA. 
 
 At length one chanc'd to find a nut. 
 In th' end of which a hole was cut. 
 Which lay upon a hazel root. 
 
 There scatter'd by a squirrel. 
 Which out the kernel gotten had : 
 When quoth this fay. Dear queen, be glad. 
 Let Oberon be ne'er so mad, 
 
 I'll set you safe from peril. 
 
 Come all into this nut, quoth she. 
 Come closely in, be rul'd by me. 
 Each one may here a chuser be. 
 
 For room ye need not wrestle, 
 Nor need ye be together heapt : 
 So one by one therein they creept. 
 And lying down, they soundly slept. 
 
 And safe as in a castle. 
 
 Nymphidia, that this while doth watch, 
 Perceiv'd if Puck the queen should catch. 
 That he would be her over-match. 
 
 Of which she well bethought her ^ 
 Found it must be some pow'rful charm. 
 The queen against him that must arm. 
 Or surely he would do her harm. 
 
 For throughly he had sought her. 
 
NYMPHIDIA. 105 
 
 And list'ning if she aught could hear. 
 That her might hinder, or might fear 3 
 But finding still the coast was clear. 
 
 Nor creature had descry'd her ; 
 Each circumstance and ha^dng scann'd. 
 She came thereby to understand. 
 Puck would be with them out of hand. 
 
 When to her charms she hy'd her. 
 
 And first her fern-seed doth bestow. 
 
 The kernel of the missletow 3 
 
 And here and there as Puck should go. 
 
 With terror to affright him. 
 She night-shade straws to work him ill. 
 Therewith her vervain, and her dill. 
 That hind'reth witches of their will. 
 
 Of purpose to despight him. 
 
 Then sprinkles she the juice of rue. 
 That groweth underneath the yew. 
 With nine drops of the midnight dew, 
 
 From lunary distilling 5 
 The molewarps brain mixt therewithall. 
 And with the same the pismires gall : 
 For she in nothing short would fall. 
 
 The fairy was so willing. 
 
106 NYMPHIDIA. 
 
 Then thrice under a brier doth creep. 
 Which at both ends was rooted deep. 
 And over it three times ' doth leap,' 
 
 Her magick much availing : 
 Then on Proserpina doth call. 
 And so upon her spell doth fall. 
 Which here to you repeat I shall. 
 
 Not in one tittle failing. 
 
 " By the croaking of the frog j 
 By the howling of the dog 5 
 By the crying of the hog ; 
 
 Against the storm arising j 
 By the evening curfeu-bell ; 
 By the doleful dying knell 5 
 
 let this my direful spell. 
 Hob, hinder thy surprising. 
 
 By the mandrakes dreadful groans j 
 By the lubricans sad moans 3 
 By the noise of dead mens bones 
 
 In charnel-houses rattling 5 
 By the hissing of the snake. 
 The rustling of the fire-drake, 
 
 1 charge thee this place forsake. 
 
 Nor of Queen Mab be prattling. 
 
NYMPHIDIA. 107 
 
 By the whirlwinds hollow sound. 
 By the thunders dreadful stound. 
 Yells of spirits under ground, 
 
 I charge thee not to fear us : 
 By the scritch-owls dismal note. 
 By the black night-ravens throat, 
 I charge thee. Hob, to tear thy coat 
 
 With thorns, if thou come near us." 
 
 Her spell thus spoke, she stept aside. 
 And in a chink herself doth hide. 
 To see thereof what would betide. 
 
 For she doth only mind him : 
 When, presently, she Puck espies. 
 And well she markt his gloating eyes. 
 How under every leaf he pries. 
 
 In seeking still to find them. 
 
 But once the circle got within. 
 
 The charms to work do straight begin. 
 
 And he was caught as in a gin : 
 
 For as he thus was busy, 
 A pain he in his head-piece feels. 
 Against a stubbed tree he reels. 
 And up went poor Hob-goblins heels : 
 
 Alas ! his brain was dizzy. 
 
108 NYMPHIDTA. 
 
 At length upon his feet he gets. 
 Hobgoblin fumes. Hobgoblin frets^ 
 And as again he forward sets. 
 
 And through the bushes scrambles, 
 A stump doth trip him in his pace, 
 Down comes poor Hob upon his face. 
 And lamentably tore his case. 
 
 Amongst the briers and brambles. 
 
 [A] plague upon queen Mab, quoth he. 
 And all her maids, where 'er they be j 
 I think the devil guided me. 
 
 To seek her, so provoked. 
 When stumbling at a piece of wood. 
 He fell into a ditch of mud. 
 Where to the very chin he stood. 
 
 In danger to be choked. 
 
 Now worse than e'er he was before. 
 
 Poor Puck doth yell, poor Puck doth roar. 
 
 That wak'd queen Mab, who doubted sore 
 
 Some treason had been wrought her : 
 Until Nymphidia told the queen 
 What she had done, what she had seen. 
 Who then had well-near crack'd her spleen 
 
 With very extreme laughter. 
 
NYMPHIDIA. 109 
 
 But leave we Hob to clamber out. 
 Queen Mab, and all her fairy rout. 
 And come again to have a bout 
 
 With Oberon yet madding : 
 And vi^ith Pigwiggen now distrought 
 Who much was troubled in his thought, 
 That he so long the queen had sought. 
 
 And through the fields was gadding : 
 
 And, as he runs, he still doth cry. 
 
 King Oberon, I thee defy. 
 
 And dare thee here in. arms to try, 
 
 For my dear ladys honour : 
 For that she is a queen right good. 
 In whose defence Til shed my blood. 
 And that thou in this jealous mood 
 
 Hast laid this slander on her. 
 
 And quickly arms him for the field, 
 A little cockle-shell his shield. 
 Which he could very bravely wield. 
 
 Yet could it not be pierced j 
 His spear a bent both stiff and strong, 
 And well near of two inches long : 
 The pile was of a horse-flys tongue. 
 
 Whose sharpness naught reversed. 
 
110 NYMPHTDIA. 
 
 And puts him on a coat of mail_, 
 Which was [form'd] of a fishes scale, 
 That, when his foe should him assail. 
 
 No point should be prevailing. 
 His rapier was a hornets sting. 
 It was a very dangerous thing -, 
 For if he chanc'd to hurt the king. 
 
 It would be long in healing. 
 
 His helmet was a beetles head. 
 Most horrible and full of dread. 
 That able was to strike one dead, 
 
 Yet it did well become him : 
 And, for a plume, a horses hair. 
 Which, being tossed by the air. 
 Had force to strike his foe with fear 
 
 And turn his weapon from him. 
 
 Himself he on an ear- wig set. 
 
 Yet scarce he on his back could get. 
 
 So oft and high he did curvet. 
 
 Ere he himself could settle : 
 He made him turn, and stop, and bound. 
 To gallop, and to trot the round. 
 He scarce could stand on any ground. 
 
 He was so full of mettle. 
 
NYMPHIDIA. Ill 
 
 When soon he met with Toniahn, 
 One that a valiant knight had been^ 
 And to great Oberon of kin : 
 
 Quoth he. Thou manly fairy. 
 Tell Oberon I come prepar'd. 
 Then bid him stand upon his guard j 
 This hand his baseness shall reward 
 
 Let him be ne'er so wary. 
 
 Say to him thus. That I defy 
 His slanders and his infamy. 
 And, as a mortal enemy. 
 
 Do publickly proclaim him : 
 Withal, that if I had mine own. 
 He should not wear the fairy crown. 
 But with a vengeance should come down ; 
 
 Nor we a king should name him. 
 
 This Tomalin could not abide. 
 To hear his sovereign vilify'd. 
 But to the fairy court him hy'd. 
 
 Full furiously he posted. 
 With every thing Pigwiggen said. 
 How title to the crow n he laid. 
 And in what arms he was array'd. 
 
 And how himself he boasted. 
 
112 NYMPHIDIA. 
 
 'Twixt head and foot, from point to point. 
 He told the arming of each joint. 
 In every piece how neat and quaint 3 
 
 For Tomalin could do it : 
 How fair he sat, how sure he rid ; 
 As of the courser he bestrid. 
 How manag'd, and how well he did. 
 
 The king, which listen'd to it. 
 
 Quoth he. Go, Tomalin, with speed, 
 Provide me arms, provide my steed. 
 And every thing that I shall need. 
 
 By thee I will be guided : 
 To strait account call thou thy wit. 
 See there be wanting not a whit. 
 In every thing see thou me fit. 
 
 Just as my foe's provided. 
 
 Soon flew this news through fairy-land. 
 Which gave queen Mab to understand 
 The combate that was then in hand 
 
 Betwixt those men so mighty : 
 Which greatly she began to rue. 
 Perceiving that all fairy knew 
 The first occasion from her grew 
 
 Of these affairs so weighty. 
 
NYMPHIDIA. 113 
 
 Wherefore, attended with her maids_, 
 
 Through fogs, and mists, and damps, she wades. 
 
 To Proserpine the queen of shades. 
 
 To treat, that it would please her 
 The cause into her hands to take. 
 For ancient love and friendships sake. 
 And soon thereof an end to make. 
 
 Which of much care would ease her. 
 
 A while there let we Mab alone. 
 And come we to king Oberon, 
 Who arm'd to meet his foe is gone. 
 
 For proud Pigwiggen crying : 
 Who sought the fairy king as fast. 
 And had so well his journies cast. 
 That he arrived at the last. 
 
 His puissant foe espying. 
 
 Stout Tomalin came with the king, 
 Tom Thum doth on Pigwiggen bring, 
 That perfect were in every thing 
 
 To single fights belonging : 
 And therefore they themselves engage. 
 To see them exercise their rage, 
 AVith fair and comely equipage, 
 
 Not one the other wronging. 
 
114 NYMPHIDIA. 
 
 So like in arms these champions were. 
 As they had been a very pair. 
 So that a man would almost swear 
 
 That either had been either : 
 Their furious steeds began to neigh. 
 That they were heard a mighty way : 
 Their staves upon their rests they lay ; 
 
 Yet, ere they flew together. 
 
 Their seconds minister an oath. 
 Which was indifferent to them both. 
 That on their knightly faith and troth. 
 
 No magick them supplied 3 
 And sought them that they had no charms. 
 Wherewith to work each others harms. 
 But came with simple open arms. 
 
 To have their causes tried. 
 
 Together furiously they ran. 
 
 That to the ground came horse and man -, 
 
 The blood out of their helmets span. 
 
 So sharp were their encounters : 
 And though they to the earth were thrown. 
 Yet quickly they regained their own ; 
 Such nimbleness was never shown. 
 
 They were two gallant mounters. 
 
NVMPHIDTA. llij 
 
 ^^Tien in a second course again, 
 
 They forward came with might and main. 
 
 Yet which had better of the twain. 
 
 The seconds could not judge yet : 
 Their shields were into pieces cleft. 
 Their helmets from their heads were reft. 
 And to defend them nothing left. 
 
 These champions would not budge yet. 
 
 Away from them their staves they threw. 
 Their cruel swords they quickly drew. 
 And freshly they the fight renew. 
 
 They every stroke redoubled. 
 Which made Proserpina take heed. 
 And make to them the greater speed. 
 For fear lest they too much should bleed. 
 
 Which wond'rously her troubled. 
 
 When to th' infernal Styx she goes. 
 She takes the fogs from thence that rose. 
 And in a bag doth them enclose. 
 
 When well she had them blended : 
 She hies her then to Lethe spring, 
 A bottle and thereof doth bring, 
 Wlierewith she meant to work the thing 
 
 Which only she intended. 
 
 i2 
 
116 NVMPHIDIA. 
 
 Now Proserpine with Mab is gone 
 Unto the place where Oberon 
 And proud Pigwiggen^ one to one. 
 
 Both to be slain were likely : 
 And there themselves they closely hide -, 
 Because they would not be espy'd ^ 
 For Proserpine meant to decide 
 
 The matter very quickly. 
 
 And suddenly unites the poke. 
 Which out of it sent such a smoke. 
 As ready was them all to choke. 
 
 So grievous was the pother : 
 So that the knights each other lost. 
 And stood as still as any post, 
 Tom Thum nor Tomalin could boast 
 
 Themselves of any other. 
 
 But, when the mist 'gan somewhat cease, 
 Proserpina commandeth peace. 
 And that a while they should release 
 
 Each other of their peril : 
 Which here, quoth she, I do proclaim 
 To all, in dreadful Plutos name. 
 That, as ye will eschew his blame. 
 
 You let me hear the quarrel. 
 
NYMPHIDIA. 117 
 
 But here yourselves you must engage 
 Somewhat to cool your spleenish rage. 
 Your grievous thirst and to assvvage. 
 
 That first you drink this liquor 3 
 Which shall your understandings clear. 
 As plainly shall to you appear. 
 Those things from me that you shall hear. 
 
 Conceiving much the quicker. 
 
 This Lethe water, you must know. 
 The memory destroyeth so. 
 That of our weal, or of our woe, 
 
 ' Is' all remembrance blotted. 
 Of it nor can you ever think : 
 For they no sooner took this drink. 
 But nought into their brains could sink. 
 
 Of what had them besotted. 
 
 King Oberon forgotten had 
 
 That he for jealousy ran mad ; 
 
 But of his queen was wond'rous glad, 
 
 And ask'd how they came thither. 
 Pigwiggen, likewise, doth forget. 
 That he queen Mab had ever met. 
 Or that they were so hard beset. 
 
 When they were found together. 
 
118 NYMPHIDIA. 
 
 Nor either of 'em both had thought. 
 That e'er they had each other sought^ 
 Much less that they a combat fought. 
 
 But such a dream were loathing. 
 Tom Thum had got a little sup. 
 And Tomalin scarce kiss'd the cup. 
 Yet had their brains so sure lock'd up. 
 
 That they remember'd nothing. 
 
 Queen Mab and her light maids the while 
 Amongst themselves do closely smile. 
 To see the king caught with this wile. 
 
 With one another jesting : 
 And to the fairy-court they went. 
 With micklejoy and merriment. 
 Which thing was done with good intent. 
 
 And thus I left them feasting *. 
 
 * Dray tons Woiks, 17^3, p. 451 . 
 
TALE IX. 
 
 THE FAIRY-PRINCE. 
 
 There lived in Spain a notable and beautiful 
 virgin, but far more famous for excellence at her 
 needle, insomuch that happy did the courtier 
 think himself, who could wear the smallest piece of 
 her work, though at a price almost invaluable. It 
 happened one day, as this admirable seamstress sate 
 working in her garden, that, casting aside her eyes 
 on some fair flower or tree, she saw, as she thought, 
 a little gentleman, yet one that shewed great no- 
 bility by his clothing, come riding toward her from 
 behind a bed of flowers j thus surprised how any 
 body should come into her garden, but much more, 
 at the stature of the person, who, as he was on 
 horseback, exceeded not a foots length in height, 
 she had reason to suspect that her eyes deceived 
 her. But the gallant, spurring his horse up the 
 garden, made it not long, though his horse was 
 little, before he came to see her : then greeting the 
 
120 THE FAIRV-PRINCE. 
 
 lady in most decent manner, after some compli- 
 ments passed, he acquaints her with the cause of 
 his bold arrival 3 that, forasmuch as he was a prince 
 amongst the fairies, and did intend to celebrate his 
 marriage on such a day, he desired she would work 
 points for him and his princess against the time he 
 appointed. The lady consented to his demands, 
 and he took his leave 5 but whether the multitude 
 of business caused the lady to forget her promise, 
 or the strangeness of the thing made her neglect 
 the work, thinking her sight to have been deceived, 
 I know not 3 yet so it fell out, that, when the ap- 
 pointed time came, the work was not ready. The 
 hour, wherein she had promised the fairy-prince 
 some fruits of her needle, happened to be one day 
 as she was at dinner with many noble persons, 
 having quite forgot her promise ; when, on a sudden, 
 casting her eye to the door, she saw an infinite 
 train of fairies come in : so that fixing her eyes on 
 them, and remembering how she [had] neglected 
 her promise, she sate as one amazed, and astonished 
 the whole company. But, at last, the train had 
 mounted upon the table, and, as they were prancing 
 on their horses round the brims of a large dish of 
 white-broth, an officer that seemed too busy in 
 making way before them, fell into the dish, which 
 caused the lady to burst into a sudden fit of laughter, 
 
THE FAIRY-PRINCE. 121 
 
 and thereby to recover her senses. When the 
 whole fairy company was come upon the table, 
 that the brims of every dish seemed filled with 
 little horsemen, she saw the prince coming toward 
 her, [who] hearing she had not done what she pro- 
 mised, seemed to go away displeased. The lady 
 presently fell into a fit of melancholy, and, being 
 asked by her friends the cause of these alterations 
 and astonishments, related the whole matter 3 but, 
 notwithstanding all their consolations, pined away, 
 and died not long after *. 
 
 * Pleasant treatise of witches^ ^c. London, 1G73, p. 64. 
 
 I 
 
TALE X. 
 
 THE SOW AND PIGS. 
 
 'Tis reported of a country girl, being sent out 
 daily by her mother to look to a sow that was then 
 big with pigs, that the sow always strayed out of 
 the girls sight, and yet always came safe home at 
 night ', this the maid often observing, resolved to 
 watch her more narrowly, and followed her one day 
 closely, till they both came to a fair green valley, 
 where was laid a large bason full of milk and white 
 bread. The sow, having eaten her mess, returned 
 home, and that night pigged eleven pigs. The 
 good wife, rising early the next morning to look to 
 her beast, found on the threshold of the sty ten 
 half-crowns, and, entering in, saw but one pig ; 
 judging by these things, that the fairies had fed 
 her sow, and bought her pigs*. 
 
 • IbL p. 62. 
 
TALE XI. 
 
 THE CHANGELING. 
 
 A CERTAIN woman having put out her child to 
 nurse in the country, found, when she came to 
 take it home, that its form was so much altered 
 that she scarce knew it j nevertheless, not know- 
 ing what time might do, took it home for her own. 
 But, when, after some years, it could neither speak 
 nor go, the poor woman was ' fain' to carry it, with 
 much trouble, in her arms ; and, one day, a poor 
 man coming to the door, [said] God bless you, 
 mistress, and your poor child, be pleased to bestow 
 something on a poor man. Ah ! this child, replied 
 she, is the cause of all my sorrow j and related 
 what had happened , adding, moreover, that she 
 thought it was changed, and none of her child. 
 The old man, whom years had rendered more pru- 
 dent in such matters, told her that to find out the 
 truth, she should make a clear fire, sweep the 
 hearth very clean, and place the child fast in his 
 
124 THE CHANGELING. 
 
 chair, that he might not fall before it 3 then break 
 a dozen eggs, and place the four and twenty half- 
 shells before it 3 then go out, and listen at the door, 
 for if the child spoke, it was certainly a changeling 3 
 and then she should carry it out, and leave it on 
 the dunghill to cry, and not to pity it, till she heard 
 its voice no more. The woman, having done all 
 things according to these words, heard the child 
 say. Seven years old was I, before I came to the 
 nurse, and four years have I lived since, and never 
 saw so many milk-pans before. So the woman 
 took it up, and left it upon the dunghill to cry, and 
 not to be pitied, till at last she thought the voice 
 went up into the air ; and, coming out, found, 
 there in the stead, her own natural and well- 
 favoured child*. 
 
 ♦ Ibi. p. 62. 
 
TALE XII. 
 
 THE CORNISH FAIRIES. 
 
 Ann Jefferies (for that was her maiden name) 
 of whom the following strange things are related, 
 was born in the parish of St. Teatli, in the county 
 of Cornwall, in December 1626, and she is still 
 living, 1696, being now in the 70th year of her 
 age. She is married to one William Warren, for- 
 merly hind to the late eminent physician dr. 
 Richard Lower deceased, and now lives as hind to 
 Sir Andrew Slanning of Devon, bart. 
 
 It is the custom in the county of Cornwall for the 
 most substantial people of each parish, to take ap- 
 prentices the poors children, and to breed them up 
 till they attain to twenty-one years of age, and, for 
 their service, to give them meat, drink, and clothes. 
 This Ann Jefferies, being a poor mans child of the 
 parish, by providence fell into our family*, where 
 
 * The authors name is Moses Pitt, who communicates 
 
126 THE CORNISH FAIRIES. 
 
 she lived several years 3 being a girl of a bold, 
 daring spirit, she would venture at those difficulties 
 and dangers that no boy would attempt. 
 
 In the year 1645 (she then being nineteen 
 years old), she being, one day, knitting in an 
 arbour in our garden, there came over the garden- 
 hedge to her (as she affirmed) six persons, of a 
 small stature, all clothed in green, which she called 
 fairies , upon which she was so frighted, that she 
 fell into a kind of convulsion -fit. But, when we 
 found her in this condition, we brought her into 
 the house j and put her to bed, and took great care 
 of her. As soon as she recovered out of her fit, 
 she cries out, '^ They are just gone out of the win- 
 dow j they are just gone out of the window 3 do 
 you not see them ?" And thus, in the height of her 
 sickness, she would often cry out, and that with 
 eagerness 3 which expressions were attributed to 
 her distemper, supposing her light-headed. 
 
 [On her recovery she becomes very religious, 
 goes constantly to church, and takes mighty de- 
 light in dei^otion, although she could not herself 
 read. She even begins to work miracles, and, by 
 the blessing of god, cures her old mistress's leg, 
 which had been hurt by a fall, as she was coming 
 
 these particulars to the right reverend father in god Edward 
 Fowler lord bishop of Gloucester, printed in 1696. 
 
THE CORNISH FAIRIES. 127 
 
 from the mill, with continued stroking of the part 
 affected : when our author thus proceeds :] 
 
 On this, my mother demanded of her, how she 
 came to the knowledge of her fall? She [who 
 had been walking at the time in the gardens and 
 orchard till the old woman came from the mill] 
 made answer. That half a dozen persons told her of 
 it. That, repUed my mother, could not be, for 
 there was none came by at that time but my 
 neighbour, who brought me home. Ann answers 
 again. That that was truth, and it was true that 
 half a dozen persons told her so : For, said slic, 
 you know I went out of the house into the gardens 
 and orchard, very unwillingly, and now I will tell 
 you the truth of all matters and things which have 
 befallen me. 
 
 " You know, that this my sickness and fits came 
 very suddenly upon me, which brought me very 
 low and weak, and have made me very simple. 
 Now the cause of my sickness was this : I was, 
 one day, knitting of stockings in the arbour in 
 the garden, and there came over the garden-hedge, 
 of a sudden, six small people, all in green clothes, 
 which put me into such a fright, that was the cause 
 of my great sickness : and they continue their ap- 
 pearance to me, never less than two at a time, 
 nor never more than eight : they always appear 
 
128 THE CORNISH FATUTFS. 
 
 in even numbers, two, four, six, eight. When I 
 said, often, in my sickness. They were just gone 
 out of the vnndow ; it was really so, although you 
 thought me light-headed. At this time, when I 
 came out into the garden, they came to me, and 
 asked me. If you had put me out of the house 
 against my will ? I told them, I was unwilHng to 
 come out of the house. Upon this, they said, — 
 You should not fare the better for it 5 and there- 
 upon, in that place, and at that time, in a fair 
 path-way, you fell, and hurt your leg, I would not 
 have you send for a surgeon, nor trouble yourself 
 for I will cure your leg :" the which she did, in a 
 little time. 
 
 The cure of my mothers leg, and the stories she 
 told of these fairies, made such a noise over all the 
 county of Cornwall, as that people of all dis- 
 tempers came not only so far off as the Lands- 
 end, but also from London, and were cured by 
 her. She took no monies of them, nor any re- 
 ward, that ever I knew or heard of 3 yet had she 
 monies, at all times, sufficient to supply her wants. 
 She neither made, nor bought any medicines, or 
 salves, that ever I saw or heard of, yet wanted them 
 not, as she had occasion. She forsook eating our 
 victuals, and was fed by these fairies from that 
 harvest-time to the next Christmas-day 3 upon 
 
THE CORNISH FAIRIES. 129 
 
 which day she came to our table, and said, Because 
 it was that day, she would eat some roast beef 
 with us : the which she did, I myself being then 
 at table. 
 
 One time (I remember it perfectly well) I had 
 a mind to speak with her, and not knowing better 
 where to find her than in her chamber, I went 
 thither, and fell a knocking very earnestly, at her 
 chamber-door, with my foot, and calling to her 
 earnestly, Ann, Ann, open the door, and let me in. 
 She answered me. Have a little patience, and I 
 will let you in immediately. Upon which, I looked 
 through the key-hole of the door, and I saw her 
 eating j and when she had done eating, she stood 
 still by her bed-side, as long as thanks to god 
 might be given, and then she made a courtesy (or 
 bow), and opened the chamber-door, and gave me 
 a piece of her bread, which I did eat ; and, I 
 think, it was the most delicious bread that ever 1 
 did eat, either before, or since. 
 
 [She could, also, render herself invisible, of 
 which he relates an instance ^ and then proceeds :] 
 One day, these fairies gave my sister Mary 
 (the now wife of Mr. Humping Martyn) then 
 about four years of age, a silver cup, which held 
 about a quart, bidding her give it my mother, and 
 she did bring it my mother -, but my mother would 
 
130 THE CORNISH FAIRIES. 
 
 not accept of it, but bid her carry it to them again, 
 which she did. I presume this was the time my 
 sister owns she saw the fairies 
 
 I have seen Ann, in the orchard, dancing among 
 the trees ^ and she told me she was then dancing 
 with the fairies. 
 
 The great noise of the many strange cures Ann 
 did, and also her living without eating our victuals 
 (she being fed, as she said, by these fairies) caused 
 both the neighbouring magistrates and ministers 
 to resort to my fathers house, and talk with her, 
 and strictly examine her, about the matters here 
 related -, and she gave them very rational answers 
 to all those questions they then asked her (for by 
 this time she was well recovered out of her sick- 
 ness and fits, and her natural parts; and under- 
 standing much improved) 3 my father, and all his 
 family, affirming the truth of all we saw. The 
 ministers endeavoured to persuade her, they were 
 evil spirits which resorted to her, and that it was 
 the delusion of the devil, and advised her not to 
 go to them, when they called her. Upon these 
 admonitions of the ministers and magistrates, our 
 Ann was not a little troubled. However, that 
 night, my father, with his family, sitting at a great 
 fire in his hall, Ann being also present, she spake 
 to my father, and said. Now they call (meaning 
 
\ 
 
 THE CORXISH FAIRIKS. ISl 
 
 the fairies): we all of us urged her not to go. In 
 less tlian half a quarter of an hour, she said. Now 
 they call a second time. We encouraged her 
 again, not to go to them. By-and-by she said. 
 Now they call a third time : upon which, away to 
 her chamber she went to them (of all these three 
 calls of the fairies none heard them but Ann). 
 After she had been in her chamber some time, 
 she came to us again with a bible in her hand, 
 and tells us, that^ when she came to the fairies, 
 they said to her. What ! has there been some 
 magistrates and ministers with you, and dissuaded 
 you from coming any more to us, saying, we are 
 evil spirits, and that it was all the delusion of the 
 devil ? Pray desire them to read that place of 
 scripture in the 1st epistle of St. John, chap. 4, 
 ver. 1 . ^' Dearly beloved, believe not every spirit, 
 but try the spirits, whether they be of god, ^^c.*' 
 This place of scripture was turned down to in 
 the said bible. 
 
 After this, one John Trcgeagle esq. (who was 
 steward to the late John earl of Radnor) being 
 then a justice of peace in Cornwall, sent his 
 warrant for Ann, and sent her to Bodmin jail, 
 and there kept her a long time. That day the 
 constable came to execute his warrant, Ann milk- 
 ing the cows, the fairies appeared to her, and 
 
 K 2 
 
132 THB: CORNISH FAIRIES. 
 
 told her. That a constable would come that day, 
 with a warrant, for to carry her before a justice of 
 peace, and she would be sent to jail. She asked 
 them, if she should hide herself ? They answered 
 her. No : she should fear nothing, but go with 
 the constable. So she went with the constable to 
 the justice, and he sent her to Bodmin jail, and 
 ordered the prison-keeper that she should be kept 
 without victuals ; and she was so kept, and yet 
 she lived, and that without complaining. . . . But 
 poor Ann lay in jail for a considerable time after ; 
 and also justice Tregeagle, who was her great per- 
 secutor, kept her in his house some time, as a pri- 
 soner, and that without victuals : and, at last, 
 when Ann was discharged out of prison, the jus- 
 tices made an order, that Ann should not live any 
 more with my father. Whereupon, my fathers 
 only sister, Mrs. Frances Tom, a widow, near Pad- 
 stow, took Ann into her family, and there she 
 lived a considerable time, and did many great 
 cures : and from thence she went to live with her 
 own brother ; and, in process of time, married, as 
 aforesaid *. 
 
 Here ends this singular narrative, which atheists 
 
 * Morgans Phiinix Bntannicus : London, 1732, 4to. p. 
 545. 
 
THP: CORNISH PRAIRIES. 133 
 
 and infidels will, doubtless, be inclined to ridicule, 
 and accuse of falsehood and imposture 3 the facts, 
 however, are so fairly represented, and so authen- 
 tically proved, that no pious Christian, who sin- 
 cerely believes the gospel, can hesitate, for a mo- 
 ment, to admit its veracity. 
 
TALE XIII. 
 
 THE WHITE POWDER. 
 
 There was a poor illiterate man in Germany, 
 who, being apprehended for suspicion of witchcraft, 
 and examined by a judge, told him. That one night, 
 before day was gone, as he was going home from 
 his labour, being very sad and full of heavy 
 thoughts, not knowing how to get meat and drink 
 for his wife and children, he met a fair woman, in 
 fine clothes, who asked him why he was so sad, 
 and he told her that it was by reason of his poverty, 
 to which she said, that, if he would follow her 
 counsel, she would help him to that which would 
 serve to get him a good living j to which he said 
 he would consent with all his heart, so it were not 
 by unlawful ways : she told him that it should not 
 be by any such ways, but by doing of good, and 
 curing of sick people j and so, warning him, strictly. 
 
THE WHITE POWDER. 135 
 
 to meet her there^ the next night, at the same time, 
 she departed from him, and he went home. The 
 next night, at the time appointed, he duly waited, 
 and she (according to promise) came and told him 
 it was well that he came so duly, otherwise he had 
 missed of that benefit that she intended to do unto 
 him, and so bade him follow her, and not be afraid. 
 Tliereupon she led him to a Utile hill, and came to 
 a fair hall, wherein was a queen sitting in great 
 state, and many people about her, and the gentle- 
 woman that brought him presented him to the 
 queen, and she said, he was welcome, and bid the 
 gentlewoman give him some of the white powder, 
 and teach him how to use it j which she did, and 
 gave him a little wood-box full of the white powder, 
 and bad him give two or three grains of it to any 
 that were sick, and it would heal them, and so she 
 brought him forth of the hill, and so they parted. 
 Being asked by the judge, whether the place with- 
 in the hill, which he called a hall, were light or 
 dark, he answered, *' Indifferent, as it is withms 
 in the twilight j" and, being asked how he got 
 more powder, he said, " When he wanted he went 
 to that hill, and knocked three times, and said 
 every time, I am coming, I am coming 3 where- 
 upon it opened, and he, going in, was conducted 
 
136 THE WHITE POWDER. 
 
 by the aforesaid woman to the queen, and so had 
 more powder given him *. 
 
 * Hothams epistle to the Mysferium magnum of Jacob 
 Behmen, upon Genesis^ as quoted in Websters Displaying of 
 supposed witchcraft: London, 1677j fo. p. 300. 
 
TALE XJV, 
 
 THE MAUTHE DOOG. 
 
 The Maiiks say, that an apparition, called in 
 their language, the Mauthe doog, in the shape of a 
 large black spaniel, with curled shaggy hair, was 
 used to haunt Peel- castle 3 and has been frequently 
 seen in every room, but particularly in the guard- 
 chamber, where, as soon as candles were lighted, 
 it came and lay down before the fire, in the pre- 
 sence of all the soldiers, who, at length, by being 
 so much accustomed to the sight of it, lost great 
 part of the terror they were seized with at its first 
 appearance. They still, however, retained a certain 
 awe, as believing it was an evil spirit, which only 
 waited permission to do them hurt, and, for that 
 reason, forbore swearing and all prophane discourse 
 while in its company. But though they endured the 
 shock of such a guest when al together in a body, 
 none cared to be left alone with it : it being the 
 custom, therefore, for one of the soldiers to lock 
 
138 THE MAUTHK DOOG. 
 
 the gates of the castle, at a certain hour, and carry 
 them to the captain, to whose apartment the way 
 led through a church j they agreed among them- 
 selves, that whoever was to succeed the ensuing 
 night, his fellow in this errand should accompany 
 him that went first, and, by this means, no man 
 would be exposed singly to the danger : for the 
 Mauthe Doog was always seen to come from that 
 passage at the close of day, and return to it again 
 as soon as the morning dawned, which made them 
 look to this place as its pecuhar residence. 
 
 One night a fellow, being drunk, and, by the 
 strength of the liquor, rendered more daring than 
 ordinary, laughed at the simplicity of his com- 
 panions, and though it was not his turn to go with 
 the keys, would needs take that office upon him to 
 testify his courage. All the soldiers endeavoured 
 to dissuade him, but the more they said, the more 
 resolute he seemed, and swore that he desired no- 
 thing more than that [the] Mauthe doog would 
 follow him, as it had done the others, for he would 
 try if it were dog or devil. After having talked 
 in a very reprobate manner for some time, he 
 snatched up the keys, and went out of the guard- 
 room. In some time after his departure a great 
 noise was heard, but nobody had the boldness to 
 see what occasioned it, till the adventurer return- 
 
THE MAUTHE DOOG. 139 
 
 ing, they demanded the knowledge of him 3 but as 
 loud and noisy as he had been at leaving them, he 
 was now become sober and silent enough 3 and 
 though all the time he lived, which was three days, 
 he was entreated by all who came near him, either 
 to speak, or, if he could not do that, to make some 
 signs, by which they might understand what had 
 happened to him, yet nothing intelligible could be 
 got from him, only, that, by the distortion • of his 
 limbs and features, it might be guessed that he 
 died in agonies more than is common to a natural 
 death. 
 
 The Mauthe Doog was, however, never seen 
 after in the castle, nor would any one attempt to 
 go through that passage, for which reason it was 
 closed up, and another way made. This accident 
 happened about threescore years since, and I 
 HKARD IT ATTESTED by scvcral, but especially, by 
 AN OLD SOLDIER, who assurcd me, he had seen 
 
 IT OFTENER than he HAD THEN HAIRS ON HIS 
 HEAD*. 
 
 • Waldrons History of the Isle of Man : 2d edition : 
 liondon, 1744, 8vo, p. 23. 
 
TALE XV. 
 
 A FAIRY FEAST. 
 
 A Manks-man, who had been led by invisible 
 musicians for several miles together j and, not 
 being able to resist the harmony, followed till it 
 conducted him to a large common, where was a 
 great number of little people sitting round a table, 
 and eating and drinking in a very jovial manner. 
 Among them were some faces which he thought 
 he had formerly seen, but forbore taking any notice 
 [of them] or they of him, till the little people 
 offering him drink, one of them, whose features 
 seemed not unknown to him, plucked him by the 
 coat, and forbad him, whatever he did, to taste any 
 thing he saw before him 3 for, if you do, added he, 
 you will be as I am, and return no more to your 
 family, llie poor man was much affrighted, but 
 resolved to obey the injunction : accordingly a 
 large silver cup, filled with some sort of liquor, 
 being put into his hand, he found an opportunity 
 
A FAIRY FEAST. 141 
 
 to throw what it contained on the ground. Soon 
 after, the music ceasing, all the company disap- 
 peared, leaving the cup in his hand 3 and he re- 
 turned home, though much wearied and fatigued. 
 He went the next day, and communicated to the 
 minister of the parish all that had happened, and 
 asked his advice how he should dispose of the cup : 
 to which the parson replied he could not do better 
 than to devote it to the serv ice of the church 3 and 
 this very cup, they say, is that which is now used 
 for the consecrated wine in Kirk-Merlugh*. 
 
 * Waldron, as before, p. 54. This tale, however, seems 
 no other than a slight alteration of Tfic silver cup, already 
 inserted. 
 
TALE XVI. 
 
 THE UNFORTUNATE FIDDLER. 
 
 A FIDDLER, in the Isle of Man,, having agreed 
 with a person, who was a stranger, for so much 
 money, to play to some company he should bring 
 him to, all the twelve days of Christmas, and re- 
 ceived earnest for it, saw his new master vanish 
 into the earth the moment he had made the bar- 
 gain. Nothing could be more terrified than was 
 the poor fiddler 5 he found he had entered into the 
 devils service, and looked on himself as already 
 damned j but, having recourse to a clergyman, he 
 received some hope : he ordered him, however, as 
 he had taken earnest, to go when he should be 
 called ) but that, whatever tunes should be called 
 for, to play none but psalms. On the day ap- 
 pointed, the same person appeared, with whom he 
 went, though with what inward reluctance 'tis 
 easy to guess 3 but, punctually obeying the mi- 
 nisters directions, the company to whom he played 
 
THE UNFORTUNATE FIDDLER. 143 
 
 were so angry, that they all vanished at once, 
 leaving him at the top of a high hill, and so bruised 
 and hurt, though he was not sensible when, or 
 from what hand, he received the blows, that he 
 got not home without the utmost difficulty*. 
 
 ♦ Waldron, as before^ p. 56. 
 
TALE XVII. 
 
 THE FAIRY-ELF. 
 
 I WAS prevailed upon, says Waldron, to go and 
 see a child, who, they told me, was one of these 
 changelings, and, indeed, must own, was not a 
 little surprised, as well as shocked, at the sight : 
 nothing under heaven could have a more beautiful 
 face 'y but, though between five and six years old, 
 and seeming healthy, he was so far from being able 
 to walk or stand, that he could not so much as 
 move any one joint: his limbs were vastly long 
 for his age, but smaller than an infants of six 
 months j his complexion was perfectly delicate, and 
 he had the finest hair in the world 3 he never spoke 
 nor cried 5 eat scarce any things and was very 
 seldom seen to smile 5 but, if any one called him 
 a fairy-elfy he would frown, and fix his eyes so 
 earnestly on those who said it, as if he would look 
 them through. His mother, or, at least, his sup- 
 posed mother, being very poor, frequently went 
 
THE FAIRY-ELF. 145 
 
 out a charing, and left him a whole day together : 
 ' the neighbours, out of curiosity, have often looked 
 in at the window, to see how he behaved when 
 alone -, which whenever they did, they were sure 
 to find him laughing, and in the utmost delight. 
 This made them judge that he was not without 
 company more pleasing to him than any mortals 
 could be ', and what made this conjecture seem 
 the more reasonable, was, that, if he were left 
 ever so dirty, the woman, at her return, saw him 
 with a clean face, and his hair combed with the 
 utmost exactness and nicety*. 
 
 * Idem, ut supra, p. 57. 
 
TALE XVIII. 
 
 THE KIDNAPPERS. 
 
 A SECOND account of this nature, lie says, I had 
 from a woman to whose offspring the fairies seemed 
 to have taken a particular fancy. The fourth or 
 fifth night after she was delivered of her first 
 child, the family was alarmed with a most terrible 
 cry of fire ; on which, every body ran out of the 
 house to see whence it proceeded, not excepting 
 the nurse, who, being as much frighted as the 
 others, made one of the number. The poor woman 
 lay trembling in her bed, alone, unable to help 
 herself, and her back being turned to the infant, 
 saw not that it was taken away by an invisible 
 hand. Those who had left her, having inquired 
 in the neighbourhood, and finding there was no 
 cause for the outcry they had heard, laughed at 
 each other for the mistake 3 but, as they were 
 going to reenter the house, the poor babe lay on 
 the threshold, and by its cries preserved itself 
 
THE KinXAPPKKS. 147 
 
 from being trod upon. This exceedingly amazed 
 all that saw it ; and, the mother being still in bed, 
 they could ascribe no reason for finding it there -, 
 but having been removed by fairies, who, by their 
 sudden return, had been prevented from carrying 
 it any farther*. 
 
 About a year after, he says, the same woman 
 was brought to bed of a second child, which had 
 not been born many nights, before a great noise 
 was heard in the house where they keep their 
 cattle. Every body that was stirring ran to see 
 what was the matter, believing that the cows had 
 got loose : the nurse was as ready as the rest j 
 but finding all safe, and the barn-door close, imme- 
 diately returned, but not so suddenly but that the 
 new-born babe was taken out of the bed, as the 
 former had been, and dropped, on their coming, 
 in the middle of the entry. This was enough to 
 prove the fairies had made a second attempt 3 and 
 the parents, sending for a minister, joined with 
 him in thanksgiving to god, who had twice de- 
 livered their children from being taken from 
 
 themf. 
 
 But, in the time of her third delivery, every 
 body seemed to have forgot what had happened in 
 
 • Idem, u. s. p. 58. f Idem, w. s. p. 59. 
 
 l2 
 
148 THE KIDNAPPERS. 
 
 the first and second, and on a noise in the cattle- 
 house, ran out to know what had occasioned it. 
 The nurse was the only person, excepting the 
 woman in the straw, who stayed in the house, 
 nor was she detained through care, or want of cu- 
 riosity, but by the bonds of sleep, having drunk a 
 little too plentifully the preceding day. The mo- 
 ther, who was broad awake, saw her child lifted 
 out of the bed, and carried out of the chamber, 
 though she could not see any person touch it 3 on 
 which she cried out as loud as she could. Nurse ! 
 nurse ! my child ! my child is taken away ! but the 
 old woman was too fast [asleep] to be awakened 
 by the noise she made, and the infant was irre- 
 trievably gone. When her husband, and those 
 who had accompanied him, returned, they found 
 her wringing her hands, and uttering the most 
 piteous lamentations for the loss of her child j on 
 which, said the husband, looking into the bed. 
 The woman is mad 5 do not you see the child lies 
 by you ? On which she turned, and saw, indeed, 
 something like a child, but far different from her 
 own, which was a very beautiful, fat, well-featured 
 babe 3 whereas, what was now in the room of it 
 was a poor, lean, withered, deformed creature. 
 It lay quite naked, but the clothes belonging to 
 the child that was exchanged for it lay wrapt 
 up altogether on the bed. 
 
THE KIDNAPPKllS. 149 
 
 This creature lived with them near the space of 
 nine years, in all which time it eat nothing except 
 a few herbs, nor was ever seen to void any other 
 excrement than water : it neither spoke, nor could 
 stand or go, but seemed enervate in every joint 5 
 and in all its actions showed itself to be of the 
 same nature*. 
 
 * Idem, u. s. p. 60. 
 
TALE XIX. 
 
 THE LUCK OF EDEN-HALL. 
 
 In Eden-hall, in Cumberland, the mansion of 
 the knightly family of Musgrave for many gene- 
 rations, is carefully preserved, in a leathern case, 
 an old painted drinking-glass, which, according to 
 the tradition of the neighbourhood, was long ago 
 left bv fairies near a well not far from the house, 
 with an inscription along with it to this effect : 
 
 If this glass do break or fall, 
 Farewell the luck of Eden-hall. 
 
 From this friendly caution the glass obtained 
 the name recorded in a humorous and excellent 
 ballad, usually, but erroneously attributed to the 
 duke of Wharton, of a famous drinking match at 
 this place, which begins thus: 
 
 God prosper long from being broke, 
 The Inck of Eden-hall. 
 
 The good-fortune, however, of this ancient house 
 
THE LUCK OF EDKN-HALL. 151 
 
 was never so much endangered as by the duke 
 himself, who, having drunk its contents, to the 
 success and perpetuity, no doubt, of the worthy 
 owner and his race, inadvertently dropped it, and 
 here, most certainly, would have terminated The 
 luck of Eden-hall, if the butler, who had brought 
 the draught, and stood at his elbow, to receive the 
 empty cup, had not happily caught it in his napkin. 
 
TALE XX. 
 
 THE MOTHER, THE NURSE, AND THE FAIRY. 
 
 Give me a son. The blessing sent. 
 Were ever parents more content ? 
 How partial are their doating eyes ! 
 No child is half so fair and wise. 
 
 Wak'd to the mornings pleasing care. 
 The mother rose, and sought her heir. 
 She saw the nurse, like one possess'd, 
 With wringing hands, and sobbing breast. 
 
 Sure some disaster has befel : 
 Speak, nurse ; I hope the boy is well. 
 
 Dear madam, think me not to blame ; 
 hmsible the fairy came : 
 Your precious babe is hence convey 'd. 
 And in the place a changeling laid. 
 Where are the fathers mouth and nose } 
 The mothers eyes, as black as sloes ? 
 See here, a shocking awkward creature. 
 That speaks a fool in every feature. 
 
THE MOTHER, THE NURSE, &c. 153 
 
 The woman's blind, the mother cries j 
 I see wit sparkle in his eyes. 
 Lord ! madam, what a squinting leer ! 
 No doubt the fairy hath been here. 
 
 Just as she spoke, a pigmy sprite 
 Pops through the key-hole, swift as light j 
 Perch'd on the cradles top he stands. 
 And thus her folly reprimands. 
 
 Whence sprung the vain, conceited lie. 
 That we the world with fools supply } 
 What ! give our sprightly race away. 
 For the dull helpless sons of clay ! 
 Besides, by paitial fondness shown. 
 Like you we doat upon our own. 
 Where yet was ever found a mother. 
 Who 'd give her booby for another ? 
 And should we change with human breed. 
 Well might we pass for fools indeed*. 
 
 • Gays Fables. 
 
TALE XXI. 
 
 THE WHIPPING OF THE LITTLE GIRL, 
 
 A GIRL, about ten years old, daughter of a 
 woman who lived about two miles from Ballasalli, 
 in the Isle of Man, being sent over the fields to the 
 town, for a pennyworth of tobacco for her father, 
 was, on the top of a mountain, surrounded by a 
 great number of little men, who would not suffer 
 her to pass any farther. Some of them said she 
 should go with them, and accordingly laid hold of 
 her 'j but one, seeming more pitiful, desired they 
 would let her alone 3 which they refusing, there 
 ensued a quarrel, and the person who took her 
 part fought bravely in her defence. This so in- 
 censed the others, that, to be revenged on her, for 
 being the cause, two or three of them seized her, 
 and, pulling up her clothes, whipped her heartily 5 
 after which, it seems, they had no further power 
 over her, and she ran home directly, telling what had 
 befallen her, and showingfprints of several small 
 
THE WHIPPING, &c. 155 
 
 hands. Several of the towns-people went with her 
 to the mountain, and, she conducting them to the 
 spot, the little antagonists were gone, but had left 
 behind them proofs (as the good woman said) that 
 what the girl had informed them was true 3 for 
 there was a great deal of blood to be seen on the 
 stones*. 
 
 • Waldron, u. s. p. 62. 
 
TALE XXII. 
 
 THE CHRISTENING. 
 
 Another woman^ equally superstitious and 
 fanciful as the former, told the author that, being 
 great with child, and expecting every moment the 
 good hour, as she lay awake one night in her bed, 
 she saw seven or eight little women come into her 
 chamber, one of whom had an infant in her arms : 
 they were followed by a man of the same size with 
 themselves, but in the habit of a minister. One 
 of them went to the pail, and finding no water in 
 it, cried out to the others. What must they do to 
 christen the child ? On which they replied, it 
 should be done in beer. With that, the seeming 
 parson took the child in his arms, and performed 
 the ceremony of baptism, dipping his hand in a 
 great tub of strong-beer, which tlie woman had 
 brewed the day before, to be ready for her lyiug- 
 in. She told me, that they baptized the infant by 
 the name of Joan, which made her know slie was 
 
THE CHRISTENING. Ie57 
 
 pregnant of a girl, as it proved a few days after, 
 when she was delivered. She added also, that it 
 was common for the fairies to make a mock- 
 christening when any person was near her time, 
 and that, according to what child, male or female, 
 they brought, such should the woman bring into 
 the world*. 
 
 * Idem, u. 8. p. 63. 
 
TALE XXIII. 
 
 THE HORN. 
 
 A YOUNG sailor, coming off a long voyage, 
 though it was late at night, chose to land rather 
 •than lie another night in the vessel : being per- 
 mitted to do so, he vi^as set on shore at Duglas. 
 It happened to be a fine moon-light night, and 
 very dry, being a small frost 3 he, therefore, for- 
 bore going into any house to refresh himself, but 
 made the best of his way to the house of a sister 
 he had at Kirk-Merlugh. As he was going over a 
 pretty high mountain, he heard the noise of horses, 
 the halloo of a huntsman, and the finest horn in 
 the world. He was a little surprised that any 
 body pursued those kind of sports in the night, 
 but he had not time for much reflection before 
 they all passed by him, so near, that he was able 
 to count what number there was of them, which, 
 he said, was thirteen, and that they were all 
 dressed in green, and gallantly mounted. He 
 
THK HORN. 159 
 
 was so well pleased with the sight, that he would 
 gladly have followed^ could he have kept pace with 
 them 3 he crossed the foot-way, however, that lie 
 might see them again, which he did more than 
 once, and lost not the sound of the horn for some 
 miles. At length, being arrived at his sisters, he 
 tells her the stor)', who, presently, clapped her 
 hands for joy that he was come home safe -, For, 
 said she, those you saw were fairies, and 'tis well 
 they did not take you away with them*. 
 
 • Idem, w. *. p G4. 
 
TALE XXIV. 
 
 THE SCHOOL-BOYS. 
 
 At my first coming into the island of Man^ says 
 Waldron, and hearing this sort of stories, I imputed 
 the giving credit to them merely to the simplicity 
 of the poor creatures who related them ; but was 
 strangely surprised, when I heard other narratives 
 of this kind, and altogether as absurd, attested by 
 men who passed for persons of sound judgement. 
 Among this number, was a gentleman, my near 
 neighbour, who affirmed, with the most solemn 
 asseverations, that, being of my opinion, and en- 
 tirely averse to the belief that any such beings were 
 permitted to wander for the purposes related of 
 them, he had been at last convinced by the ap- 
 pearance of several little figures, playing and leap- 
 ing over some stones in a field, whom, a few yards 
 distance, he imagined were school-boys, and in- 
 tended, when he came near enough, to reprimand, 
 for being absent from their exercises at that time 
 
THE SCHOOL-BOYS. 161 
 
 of the day 3 it being then, he said, between three 
 and four of the clock : but, when he approached 
 as near as he could guess, within twenty paces, 
 they all, immediately, disappeared, though he had 
 never taken his eye off them from the ftrst moment 
 he beheld them 3 nor was there any place where 
 they could so suddenly retreat, it being an open 
 field, without hedge or bush, and, as is said before, 
 broad day*. 
 
 • Idem, u. s. p. f»6. 
 
TALE XXV. 
 
 THE BARGAIN, 
 
 Another instance, which might serve to 
 strengthen the credit of the last, was told to Wal- 
 dron by a person who had the reputation of the 
 utmost integrity. This man, being desirous of dis- 
 posing of a horse he had, at that time, no great 
 occasion for, and riding him to market for that 
 purpose, yvas accosted, in passing over the moun- 
 tains, by a little man in a plain dress, who asked 
 him if he would sell his horse. 'Tis the design 
 I am going on, replied the person who told the 
 story: on which the other desired to know the 
 price. Eight pounds, said he. No, resumed the 
 purchaser, 1 will give no more than seven 3 which 
 if you will take, here is your money. The owner, 
 thinking he had bid pretty fair, agreed with him, 
 and, the money being told out, the one dismounted, 
 and the other got on the back of the horse, which 
 he had no sooner done, than both beast and rider 
 
THE BAUGAIN. 163 
 
 sunk into the earth, immediately, leaving the per- 
 son who had made the bargain in the utmost terror 
 and confusion. As soon as he had a little recovered 
 himself, he went directly to the parson of the parish, 
 and related what had passed, desiring he would 
 give his opinion whether he ought to make use of 
 the money he had received, or not : To which he 
 replied, that as he had made a fair bargain, and no 
 way circumvented, nor endeavoured to circumvent 
 the buyer, he saw no reason to believe, in case it 
 was an evil spirit, it could have any power over 
 him. On this assurance, he went home well satis- 
 fied, and nothing afterward happened to give him 
 any disquiet concerning this affair *. 
 
 * Idem, M. s. p. 67* 
 
 m2 
 
TALE XXVI 
 
 FAIRY-MUSIC. 
 
 An English gentleman, the particular friend of 
 our author^ to whom he told the story, was about 
 passing over Duglas- bridge before it was broken 
 down • but, the tide being high, he was obliged to 
 take the river 5 having an excellent horse under 
 him, and one accustomed to swim. As he was in 
 the middle of it, he heard, or imagined he heard, 
 the finest symphony, he would not say in the 
 world, for nothing human ever came up to it. 
 The horse wavS no less sensible of the harmony 
 than himself, and kept in an immoveable posture 
 all the time it lasted ; which, he said, could not 
 be less than three quarters of an hour, according 
 to the most exact calculation he could make, when 
 he arrived at the end of his little journey, and 
 found how long he had been coming. He, who 
 
FAIRY MUSIC. 165 
 
 before laughed at all the stories told of fairies, 
 now became a convert, and believed as much as 
 ever a Manks-man of them all*. 
 
 * Waldron, as before, p. 72. A little beyond a hole in the 
 earth, just at the foot of a mountain, about a league and a half 
 from Barool, which they call The Devils den, '* is a small 
 lake, in the midst of which is a large stone, on which, for- 
 merly, stood a cross : round this lake the fairies are said to 
 celebrate the obsequies of any good person ; and I have heard 
 many people, and those of a considerable share of understand- 
 ing too, protest, that, in passing that way, they have been 
 saluted with ihe sound of such musick, as could proceed from 
 no earthly instruments." p. 137» 
 
TALE XXVII 
 
 THE PORRIDGE-POT. 
 
 In the vestry of Frensham church in Surrey, 
 on the north side of the chancel, is an extraor- 
 dinary great kettle or caldron, which the inha- 
 bitants say, by tradition, was brought hither by 
 the fairies, time out of mind, from Borough-hill, 
 about a mile hence. To this place if any one 
 went to borrow a yoke of oxen, money, SfC, he 
 might have it for a year or longer, so he kept his 
 word to return it. There is a cave, where some 
 have fancied to hear music. On tliis Borough- 
 hill (in the same parish) is a great stone lying 
 along, of the length of about six feet. They 
 went to this stone, and knocked at it, and de- 
 clared what they would borrow, and when they 
 would repay, and a voice would answer, when they 
 should come, and that they should find what they 
 desired to borrow at that stone. This caldron. 
 
THE PORRIDGE-POT. 167 
 
 with the trivet^ was borrowed here after the manner 
 aforesaid, but not returned according to promise ; 
 and, though the caldron was afterward carried to the 
 stone, it could not be received, and ever since that 
 time, no borrowing there *. 
 
 * Aubreys Natural history of Surrey^ Hi. 36G. 
 
TALE XXVIII. 
 [the welsh fairies.] 
 
 One D. Hardiug, about twenty years ago, iu 
 Lanbistan parish, saw a circle upon the snow, and 
 in it, as it were, the track of hundreds of children 
 in little pump-shoes. It was near a way, said to 
 be haunted, or where people were usually dis- 
 turbed, in going to and coming from Knighton- 
 market, or at other times at night*. 
 
 * From a Welsh MS. 
 
TALE XXIX. 
 
 KKNSINGTON GARDEN 
 
 Campos^ ubi Trojafuit. Virg. 
 
 Where Kensington high o'er the neighb'ring 
 lands, 
 'Midst greens and sweets, a regal fabrick stands. 
 And sees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers, 
 A snow of blossoms, and a wild of flowers. 
 The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair 
 To groves and lawns, and unpolluted air. 
 Here, while the town in damps and darkness lies. 
 They breathe in sunshine, and see azure skies. 
 Each walk, with robes of various dies bespread. 
 Sees from afar a moving tulip-bed. 
 Where rich brocades and glossy damasks glow. 
 And chints, the rival of the showery bow. 
 Here Englands daughter, darling of the land. 
 Sometimes, surrounded with her virgin band. 
 Gleams through the shades. She, towering o'er the 
 
 rest. 
 Stands fairest of the fairer kind confess'd. 
 
170 KENSINGTON GARDEN. 
 
 Form'd to gain hearts, that Brims wicks cause 
 
 deny'd. 
 And charm a people to her fathers side. 
 
 Long have these groves to royal guests been known. 
 Nor Nassau first preferr'd them to a throne. 
 Ere Norman banners waved in British air. 
 Ere lordly Hubba with the golden hair 
 Pour'd in his Danes ; ere elder Julius came j 
 Or Dardan Brutus gave our isle a name 3 
 A prince of Albions lineage graced the wood. 
 The scene of wars, and stain 'd with lovers blood. 
 You, who through gazing crowds, your captive 
 
 throng, 
 Throw pangs and passions, as you move along. 
 Turn on the left, ye fair, your radiant eyes. 
 Where all unlevel'd the gay garden lies : 
 If generous anguish for anothers pains 
 Ere heaved your hearts, or shiver'd through your 
 
 veins. 
 Look down attentive on the pleasing dale. 
 And listen to my melancholy tale. 
 
 That hollow space, where, now, in living rows. 
 Line above line the yews sad verdure grows. 
 Was, ere the planters hand its beauty gave, 
 A common pit, a rude, unfashion'd cave ; 
 The landscape, now so sweet, we well may praise. 
 But far, far sweeter in its ancient days. 
 
KENSINGTON GARDEN. 171 
 
 Far sweetei v\ as it, when its peopled ground 
 With fairy domes and dazzling towers were crown'd. 
 Where, in the midst, those verdant pillars spring. 
 Rose the proud palace of the elfin king. 
 For every hedge of vegetable green. 
 In happier years, a crowded street was seen. 
 Not all those leaves, that now the prospect grace, 
 Could match the numbers of its pigmy race. 
 What urged this mighty empire to its fate, 
 A tale of woe and wonder, I relate. 
 
 M^hen Albion ruled the land, whose lineage came 
 From Neptune mingling with a mortal dame. 
 Their midnight pranks the sprightly fairies play'd 
 On every hill, and danced in every shade. 
 But, foes to sun-shine, most they took delight 
 in dells and dales, conceal'd from human sight : 
 There hew'd their houses in the arching rock j 
 Or scoop'd the bosom of the blasted oak -, 
 Or heard, o ershadow'd by some shelving hill. 
 The distant murmurs of the falling rill. 
 They, rich in pilfer'd spoils, indulged their mirth. 
 And pitied the huge wretched sous of earth. 
 Even now, 'tis said, the hinds o'erhear their strain, 
 And strive to Wew their airy forms in vain j 
 They to their cells at mans approach repair. 
 Like the shy leveret, or the mother-hare. 
 
1T2 KENSINGTON GAllDEN. 
 
 The whilst poor mortals startle at the sound 
 Of unseen footsteps on the haunted ground. 
 
 Amid this garden, then with woods o'ergrown. 
 Stood the loved seat of royal Oberon. 
 From every region to his palace-gate 
 Came peers and princes of the fairy state, 
 ^Vho, rank'd in council round the sacred shade. 
 Their monarchs will and great behests obey'd. 
 From Thames fair banks, by lofty towers adorn'd. 
 With loads of plunder oft his chiefs return'd * : 
 Hence in proud robes, and colours bright and gay. 
 Shone every knight, and every lovely fay. 
 Whoe'er on Powells dazzling stage displayed 
 Hath famed king Pepin and his court survey'd. 
 May guess, if old by modern things we trace. 
 The pomp and splendour of the fairy race. 
 
 By magick fenced, by spells encompass'd round. 
 No mortal touch'd this interdicted ground 3 
 No mortal entered, those alone who came 
 Stol'n from the couch of some terrestrial dame : 
 For oft of babes they robb'd the matrons bed. 
 And left some sickly changeling in their stead. 
 
 It chanced a youth of Albions royal blood 
 Was foster'd here, the wonder of the wood. 
 
 • This is calumny ; the fairies weie always liberal, never 
 unjust : the only things they ever stole were children^ as re- 
 presented below. 
 
KENSINGTON GARDEN. 173 
 
 Milkah for wiles above her peers ronowu'd, 
 Deep-skill'd in charms, and many a mystick sound. 
 As through the regal dome she sought for prey. 
 Observed the infant Albion where he lay. 
 In mantles broider'd o'er with gorgeous pride. 
 And stole him from his sleeping mothers side. 
 
 Who now but Milkah triumphs in her mind ! 
 Ah wretched nymph ! to future evils blind. 
 The time shall come when thou shalt dearly pay 
 The theft, hard-hearted I of that guilty day : 
 Thou in thy turn shall like the queen repine. 
 And all her sorrows doubled shall be thine : 
 He who adorns thy house, the lovely boy 
 Who now adorns it, shall at length destroy. 
 
 Two hundred moons in their pale course had 
 seen 
 '^The gay-robed fairies glimmer on the green. 
 And Albion now had reach'd in youthful prime 
 To nineteen years, as mortals measure time. 
 Flush'd with resistless charms he fired to love 
 Each nymi)h and little dryad of the grove -, 
 For skilful Milkah spared not to employ 
 Her utmost art to rear the princely boy j 
 Each supple limb she swath d, and tender bone. 
 And to the elfin standard kept him down ; 
 She robb'd dwarf elders of their fragrant fruit. 
 And fed him early with the daisys root. 
 
174 KENSINGTON GARDEN. 
 
 Whence through his veins the powerful juices ran. 
 
 And form'd in beauteous miniature the man. 
 
 Yet still, two inches taller than the rest. 
 
 His lofty port his human birth confess'd, 
 
 A foot in height, how stately did he show ! 
 
 How look superior on the crowd below ! 
 
 What knight like him could toss the rushy lance ? 
 
 Who move so graceful in the mazy dance ? 
 
 A shape so nice, or features half so fair. 
 
 What elf could boast ? or such a flow of hair ? 
 
 Bright Kenna saw, a princess born to reign. 
 
 And felt the charmer burn in every vein. 
 
 She, heiress to this empires potent lord. 
 
 Praised like the stars, and next the moon adored. 
 
 She, whom at distance thrones and princedoms 
 
 view'd. 
 To whom proud Oriel and Azuriel sued. 
 In her high palace languish'd, void of joy. 
 And pined in secret for a mortal boy. 
 
 He too was smitten, and discreetly strove 
 By courtly deeds to gain the virgins love. 
 For her he cull'd the fairest flowers that grew. 
 Ere morning suns had drain'd their fragrant dew j 
 He chased the hornet in his mid- day flight 
 And brought her glow-worms in the noon of night ; 
 When on ripe fruits she cast a wishing eye. 
 Did ever Albion think the tree too high ! 
 
KENSINGTOiN GAUDKN. 175 
 
 He show'd her where the pregnant goldfinch 
 
 hung. 
 And the wren-mother brooding o'er her young ; 
 To her th' inscription on their eggs he read : 
 (Admire, ye clerks, the youth whom Milkah bred !) 
 To her he show'd each herb of virtuous juice. 
 Their powers distinguish'd, and described their 
 
 use : 
 All vain their powers, alas ! to Kenna prove. 
 And well sung Ovid, There '5 no herb for love. 
 
 As when a ghost, enlarged from realms below. 
 Seeks its old friend to tell some secret woe. 
 The poor shade shivering stands, and must not 
 
 break 
 His painful silence, till the mortal speak ; 
 So fared it with the little love-sick maid. 
 Forbid to utter what her eyes betray'd. 
 He saw her anguish, and reveal'd his flame. 
 And spared the blushes of the tongue-tyed dame. 
 The day would fail me, should I reckon o'er 
 The sighs they lavisli'd, and the oaths they swore j 
 In words so melting, that compared with those. 
 The nicest courtship of terrestrial beaus 
 Would sound like compHments from country 
 
 clowns. 
 To red-cheek'd sweet-hearts in their home-spun 
 
 gowns. 
 
17(5 KKNSINGTON GARDEN. 
 
 All in a lawn of many a various hue, 
 A bed of flowers (a fair^^ forest) grew ; 
 Twas here, one noon, the gaudiest of the May, 
 The still, the secret, silent, hour of day. 
 Beneath a lofty tulips ample shade 
 Sate the young lover, and th' immortal maid. 
 They thought all fairies slept, ah luckless pair ! 
 Hid, but in vain, in the suns noon -tide glare ! 
 When Albion, leaning on his Kennas breast. 
 Thus all the softness of his soul expressed : 
 '^ All things are hush'd. The suns meridian rays 
 Veil the horizon in one mighty blaze -, 
 Nor moon nor star in heavens blue arch is seen. 
 With kindly rays to silver o'er the green. 
 Grateful to fairy eyes -, they secret take 
 Their rest, and only wretched mortals wake. 
 This dead of day I fly to thee alone, 
 A world to me, a multitude in one. 
 Oh sweet as dew-drops on these flowery lawns. 
 When the sky opens, and the evening dawns ! 
 Straight as the pink, that towers so high in air. 
 Soft as the blue-bell, as the daisy, fair ! 
 Bless'd be the hour, when first I was convey 'd 
 An infant captive to this blissful shade ! 
 And bless'd the hand that did my form refine. 
 And shrunk my stature to a match with thine ! 
 
KENSINGTON GARDEN. 177 
 
 Glad I for thee renounce my royal birth, 
 And all the giant daughters of the earth. 
 Thou, if thy breast with equal ardour bum. 
 Renounce thy kind, and love for love return. 
 So from us two, combined by nuptial ties, 
 A race unknown of demi-gods shall rise. 
 Oh speak, my love ! my vows with vows repay. 
 And sweetly swear my rising fears away." 
 To whom (the shining azure of her eyes 
 More brighten'd) thus th' enamour'd maid replies : 
 
 *' By all the stars, and first the glorious moon, 
 I swear, and by the head of Oberon, 
 A dreadful oath ! no prince of fairy line 
 Shall e'er in wedlock plight his vows with mine. 
 Where'er my footsteps in the dance are seen. 
 May toadstools rise, and mildews blast the green. 
 May the keen east- wind blight my fa v' rite flowers. 
 And snakes and spotted adders haunt my bowers. 
 Confined whole ages in a hemlock shade. 
 There rather pine I a neglected maid j 
 Or worse, exiled from Cynthias gentle rays. 
 Parch in the sun a thousand summer-days. 
 Than any prince, a prince of fairy line. 
 In sacred wedlock plight his vows \nth mine." 
 
 She ended : and with lips of rosy hue 
 Dipp'd five times over in ambrosial dew. 
 
178 KENSINGTON GARDEN. 
 
 Stifled his words. When, from his covert rear'd. 
 
 The frowning brow of Oberon appear 'd. 
 
 A sun-flowers trunk was near, whence (killing 
 
 sight!) 
 The monarch issued, half an ell in height : 
 Full on the pair a furious look he cast. 
 Nor spake -, but gave his bugle -horn a blast. 
 That through the woodland echo'd far and wide. 
 And drew a swarm of subjects to his side. 
 A hundred chosen knights, in war renown'd. 
 Drive Albion banished from the sacred ground -, 
 And twice ten myriads guard the bright abodes. 
 Where the proud king, amidst his demi-gods. 
 For Kennas sudden bridal bids prepare. 
 And to Azuriel gives the weeping fair. 
 
 If fame in arms, with ancient birth combined. 
 And faultless beauty, and a spotless mind. 
 To love and praise can generous souls incline. 
 That love, Azuriel, and that praise were thine. 
 Blood, only less than royal, fill'd thy veins. 
 Proud was thy roof, and large thy fair domains. 
 Where now the skies high Holland-house invades 
 And short-lived Warwick sadden'd all the shades. 
 Thy dwelling stood : nor did in him afford 
 A nobler owner, or a lovelier lord. 
 For thee a hundred fields produced their store. 
 And by thy name ten thousand vassals swore. 
 
KENSINGTON GAIIDEN. 179 
 
 So loved thy name, that, at their monarchs choice. 
 All Fairy shouted with a general voice. 
 Oriel alone a secret rage suppress'd. 
 That from his bosom heaved the golden vest. 
 Along the banks of Thame his empire ran. 
 Wide was his range, and populous his clan. 
 When cleanly servants, if we trust old talcs. 
 Beside their wages had good fairy vails. 
 Whole heaps of silver tokens, nightly paid 
 The careful wife or the neat dairy- maid. 
 Sunk not his stores. With smiles and powerful 
 
 bribes 
 He gain'd the leaders of his neighbour tribes. 
 And ere the night the face of heaven had changed, 
 Beneath his banners half the fairies ranged. 
 
 Mean-while driven back to earth, a lonely way 
 Tlie cheerless Albion wander'd half the day, 
 A long,, long journey, choked with brakes and 
 
 thorns. 
 Ill-measured by ten thousand barley-corns. 
 Tired out at length, a spreading stream he spy'd 
 Fed by old Thame, a daughter of the tide : 
 'Twas then a spreading stream, though, now, its 
 
 fame 
 Obscured, it bears the creeks inglorious name^ 
 And creeps, as through contracted bounds it strays, 
 A leap for boys in these degenerate days. 
 
 n2 
 
180 KENSINGTON GARDEN. 
 
 On the clear crystals verdant bank he stood. 
 And thrice look'd backward on the fatal wood. 
 And thrice he groan'd, and thrice he beat his 
 
 breast. 
 And thus in tears his kindred gods address'd : 
 
 '^ If true, ye watery powers, my lineage came 
 From Neptune mingUng with a mortal dame -, 
 Down to his court, with coral garlands crown'd. 
 Through all your grottos waft my plaintive sound. 
 And urge the god, whose trident shakes the earth. 
 To grace his offspring and assert my birth." 
 
 He said. A gentle Naiad heard his prayer. 
 And, touch 'd with pity for a lovers care. 
 Shoots to the sea, where low beneath the tides 
 Old Neptune in th' unfathom'd deep resides. 
 Roused at the news the seas stern sultan swore 
 Revenge, and scarce from present arms forbore. 
 But first the nymph his harbinger he sends. 
 And to her care the fav'rite boy commends. 
 
 As through the Thames her backward course she 
 guides. 
 Driven up his current by the refluent tides. 
 Along his banks the pygmy legions spread. 
 She spies, and haughty Oriel at their head. 
 Soon with wrong'd Albions name the host she 
 
 fires. 
 And counts the oceans god among his sires 3 
 
KENSINGTON GARDEN. 181 
 
 " The oceans god_, by whom shall be o'erthrown 
 (Styx heard his oath) the tyrant Oberon. 
 See here, beneath a toadstools deadly gloom 
 Lies Albion : him the fates your leader doom. 
 Hear and obey -, 'tis Neptunes powerful call. 
 By him Azuriel and his king shall fall." 
 
 Shesaid. Theybow'd: and on their shields upbore. 
 With shouts, their new-saluted emperor. 
 Even Oriel smiled : at least to smile he strove. 
 And hopes of vengeance triumph'd over love. 
 
 See now the mourner of the lonely shade 
 By gods protected, and by hosts obey'd, 
 A slave, a chief, by fickle Fortunes play. 
 In the short course of one revolving day. 
 What wonder if the youth, so strangely bless'd. 
 Felt his heart flutter in his little breast ! 
 His thick embattled troops, with secret pride. 
 He views extended half an acre wide j 
 More light he treads, more tall he seems to rise. 
 And struts a straw-breadth nearer to the skies. 
 
 O for thy muse, great bard*, whose lofty strains 
 In battle join'd the pygmies and the cranes ! 
 Each gaudy knight, had I that warmth divine. 
 Each colour'd legion in my verse should shine. 
 But simple I, and innocent of art. 
 The tale, that soothed my infant years, impart, 
 • Mr. Addison. 
 
182 KENSINGTON GARDEN. 
 
 The tale I hear'd whole winter-eves, untired. 
 And sing the battles that my nurse inspired. 
 
 Now the shrill corn-pipes, echoing loud to arms. 
 To rank and file reduce the straggling swarms. 
 Thick rows of spears at once, with sudden glare, 
 A grove of needles, glitter in the air 5 
 Loose in the winds small ribbon streamers flow, 
 Dipp'd in all colours of the heavenly bow, 
 And the gay host, that now its march pursues. 
 Gleams o*er the meadows in a thousand hues. 
 
 Unseen and silent march the slow brigades 
 Through pathless wilds, and unfrequented shades. 
 In hope already vanquish 'd by surprise. 
 In Albions power the fairy empire lies 5 
 Already has he seized on Kennas charms. 
 And the glad beauty trembles in his arms. 
 
 The march concludes : and now in prospect near. 
 But fenced with arms, the hostile towers appear. 
 For Oberon, or druids falsely sing. 
 Wore his prime visor in a magic ring. 
 A subtle spright, that opening plots foretold 
 By sudden dimness on the beamy gold. 
 Hence, in a crescent form'd, his legions bright. 
 With beating bosoms, waited for the fight ; 
 To charge their foes they march, a glittering band. 
 And in their van doth bold Azuriel stand. 
 
KENSINGTON GARDEN. 183 
 
 What rage that hour did Albions soul possess^ 
 Let chiefs imagine, and let lovers guess ! 
 Forth issuing from his ranks, that strove in vain 
 To check his course, athwart the dreadful plain 
 He strides indignant : and v^ith haughty cries 
 To single fight the fairy prince defies. 
 
 Forbear, rash youth, th' unequal war to try 5 
 Nor, sprung from mortals, with immortals vie. 
 No god stands ready to avert thy doom. 
 Nor yet thy grandsire of the waves is come. 
 My words are vain — no words the wretch can 
 
 move. 
 By beauty dazzled and bewitch'd by love : 
 He longs, he burns, to win the glorious prize. 
 And sees no danger, while he sees her eyes. 
 
 Now from each host the eager warriors start. 
 And furious Albion flings his hasty dart : 
 'Twas feather'd from the bees transparent wing. 
 And its shaft ended in a hornets sting j 
 But toss'd in rage, it flew without a wound. 
 High o'er the foe, and guiltless pierced the ground. 
 Not so Azuriels : with unerring aim 
 Too near the needle-pointed javelin came. 
 Drove through the seven-fold shield and silken 
 
 vest. 
 And lightly rased the lovers ivory breast. 
 
184 KENSINGTON GARDEN. 
 
 Roused at the smart, and rising to the blow. 
 With his keen sword he cleaves his fairy foe. 
 Sheer from the shoulder to the waist he cleaves. 
 And of one arm the tott'ring trunk bereaves. 
 
 His useless steel brave Albion wields no more. 
 But sternly smiles, and thinks the combat o'er. 
 So had it been, had aught of mortal strain. 
 Or less than fairy felt the deadly pain. 
 But empyreal forms, howe'er in fight 
 Gash'd and dismember'd, easily unite. 
 As some frail cup of Chinas purest mold. 
 With azure varnish'd, and bedropp'd with gold. 
 Though broke, if cured by some nice virgins hands. 
 In its old strength and pristine beauty stands ^ 
 The tumults of the boiling bohea braves. 
 And holds secure the coffees sable waves : 
 So did Azuriels arm, if fame say true. 
 Rejoin the vital trunk whence first it grew 5 
 And, whilst in wonder fix'd poor Albion stood. 
 Plunged the cursed sabre in his hearts warm blood. 
 The golden broidery, tender Milhah wove. 
 The breast to Kenna sacred and to love. 
 Lie rent and mangled : and the gaping wound 
 Pours out a flood of purple on the ground. 
 The jetty lustre sickens in his eyes : 
 On his cold cheeks the bloomy freshness dies : 
 
KENSINGTON GARDEN. 185 
 
 '' Oh Kenna, Kenna/' thrice he try'd to say 
 " Kenna, farewell :" and sigh'd his soul away. 
 
 His fall the dryads with loud shrieks deplore^ 
 By sister naiads echo'd from the shore. 
 Thence down to Neptunes secret realms convey*d. 
 Through grots, and glooms, and many a coral 
 
 shade. 
 The seas great sire, with looks denouncing war. 
 The trident shakes, and mounts the pearly car 5 
 With one stem frown the wide-spread deep deforms. 
 And works the madding ocean into storms. 
 O'er foaming mountains, and through bursting tides. 
 Now high, now low, the bounding chariot rides, 
 'Till through the Thames in a loud whirlwinds roar 
 It shoots, and lands him on the destined shore. 
 
 Now fix'd on earth his towering stature stood. 
 Hung o'er the mountains, and o'erlook'd the wood. 
 To Bromptons grove one ample stride he took, 
 (The valleys trembled, and the forests shook) 
 The next huge step reach 'd the devoted shade. 
 Where choked in blood was wretched Albion laid : 
 Where now the vanquish'd with the victors join'd. 
 Beneath the regal banners stood combined. 
 
 Th' embattled dwarfs with rage and scorn he 
 pass'd. 
 And on their town his eye vindictive cast. 
 
186 KENSINGTON GARDEN. 
 
 Its deep foundations his strong trident cleaves. 
 And high in air th* uprooted empire heaves 5 
 On his broad engine the vast ruin hung. 
 Which on the foe with force divine he flung ; 
 Aghast the legions, in th' approaching shade, 
 Th' inverted spires and rocking domes survey'd. 
 That downward tumbling on the host below 
 Crush'd the whole nation at one dreadful blow. 
 Towers, arms, nymphs, warriors, are together lost. 
 And a whole empire falls to sooth sad Albion s ghost. 
 
 Such was the period, long restrain 'd by Fate, 
 And such the downfall of the fairy state. 
 This dale, a pleasing region, not unbless'd. 
 This dale possess'd they; and had still possess'd 
 Had not their monarch, with a fathers pride. 
 Rent from her lord th' inviolable bride. 
 Rash to dissolve the contract seal'd above. 
 The solemn vows, and sacred bonds of love. 
 Now, where his elves so brightly danced the round. 
 No violet breathes, nor daisy paints the ground. 
 His towers and people fill one common grave, 
 A shapeless ruin, and a barren cave. 
 
 Beneath huge hills of smoking piles he lay 
 Stunn'd and confounded a whole summers day. 
 At length awaked (for what can long restrain 
 Unbody'd spirits ?) but awaked in pain : 
 
KENSINGTON GAKDEN. 187 
 
 And as he saw the desolated wood. 
 
 And the dark den where once his empire stood. 
 
 Grief chill'd his heart : to his half -open' d eyes 
 
 In every oak a Neptune seem'd to rise : 
 
 He fled : and left, with all his trembling peers. 
 
 The long possession of a thousand years. 
 
 Through bush, through brake, through groves, 
 
 and gloomy dales. 
 Through dank and dry, o'er streams and flowery 
 
 vales. 
 Direct they fled ; but often look'd behind. 
 And stopp'd and started at each rustling wind. 
 Wing'd with hke fear his abdicated bands. 
 Disperse and wander into difi'erent lands. 
 Part did beneath the Peaks deep caverns lie. 
 In silent glooms impervious to the sky -, 
 Part on fair Avons margin seek repose,* 
 Whose stream o'er Britains midmost region flows. 
 Where formidable Neptune never came. 
 And seas and oceans are but known by fame : 
 Some to dark woods and secret shades retreat. 
 And some on mountains choose their airy seat. 
 
 * " Thou soft-flowing Avon, by thy silver stream 
 
 Of things more tlian mortal thy Shakspeare would dream : 
 The fairies by mooi^ight dance round his green bed, 
 For hullow'd the turf is which pillow'd his head." 
 
 Garrick. 
 
188 KENSINGTON GARDEN. 
 
 There haply by the ruddy damsel seen. 
 Or shepherd-boy, they featly foot the green. 
 While from their steps a circling verdure springs ; 
 But fly from towns, and dread the courts of kings. 
 
 Mean-while sad Kenna loth to quit the grove. 
 Hung o'er the body of her breathless love, 
 Try'd every art (vain arts !) to change his doom. 
 And vow'd (vain vows !) to join him in the tomb. 
 What could she do ? the Fates alike deny 
 The dead to live, or fairy forms to die. 
 
 An herb there grows (the same old Homer tells 
 Ulysses bore to rival Circes spells) :* 
 Its root is ebon-black, but sends to light, 
 A stem that bends with flowerets milky white. 
 Holy the plant, which gods and fairies know. 
 But secret kept from mortal men below. 
 On his pale limbs its virtuous juice she shed, 
 And murmur'd mystic numbers o'er the dead. 
 When lo ! the little shape by magic power 
 Grew less and less, contracted to a flower, 
 A flower, that first in this sweet garden smiled. 
 To virgins sacred, and the snow- drop s tiled. 
 
 The new-born plant with sweet regret she 
 view'd, 
 Warm'd with her sighs, and with her tears be- 
 dew'd, 
 
 * Odys. B. 10. 
 
KENSINGTON GARDEN . 189 
 
 Its ripen'd seeds from bank to bank convey' d. 
 And with her lover whiten'd half the shade. 
 Thus won from death each spring she sees him 
 
 grow 
 And glories in the vegetable snow. 
 Which now increased through wide Britannias 
 
 plains. 
 Its parents warmth and spotless name retains 3 
 First leader of the flowery race aspires. 
 And foremost catches the suns genial fires, 
 'Mid frosts and snows triumphant dares appear. 
 Mingles the seasons, and leads on the year. 
 
 Deserted now of all the pygmy race. 
 Nor man nor fairy touch'd this guilty place. 
 In heaps on heaps, for many a rolling age. 
 It lay accursed the mark of Neptunes rage 3 
 'Till great Nassau recloth'd the desert shade 
 Thence sacred to Britannias monarchs made. 
 'Twas then the green-robed nymph, fair Keuna^ 
 
 came, 
 (Kenna that gave the neighbouring town its 
 
 name). 
 Proud when she saw th' ennobled garden shine 
 With nymphs and heros of her lovers line. 
 She vow'd to grace the mansions once her own. 
 And picture out in plants the fairy town. 
 
190 KENSINGTON GARDEN. 
 
 To far-famed Wise her flight unseen she sped. 
 And with gay prospects fiU'd the craftsman s 
 
 head. 
 Soft in his fancy drew a pleasing scheme. 
 And plann'd that landskip in a morning dream. 
 
 With the sweet view the sire of gardens fired, 
 Attempts the labour by the nymph inspired. 
 The walls and streets in rows of yew designs. 
 And forms the town in all its ancient lines ; 
 The corner trees he lifts more high in air. 
 And girds the palace with a verdant square. 
 
 With a sad pleasure the aerial maid 
 This image of her ancient realm surveyed ; 
 How changed, how fall'n from its primaeval pride ! 
 Yet here each moon, the hour her lover died. 
 Each moon his solemn obsequies she pays. 
 And leads the dance beneath pale Cynthias rays j 
 Pleased in these shades to head her fairy train. 
 And grace the groves where Albion s kinsmen 
 reign.* 
 
 * By Thomas TickelL 
 
SONG I. 
 
 TITANIAS LULLABY. 
 BY SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 You spotted snakes, with double tongue. 
 Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen j 
 
 Newts, and blind-worms, do no wrong, 
 Come not near our fairy queen. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Philomel, with melody. 
 Sing in our sweet lullaby } 
 LuUa, lulla, lullaby J lulla, lulla, luUaby. 
 
 Weaving spiders come not here. 
 
 Hence, you long-legg*d spinners, hence 
 
 Beetles black, approach not near j 
 Worm, nor snail, do no offence. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Philomel, with melody, 8fC. 
 
SONG II. 
 
 IMITATION. 
 
 Lo ! here, beneath this hallow'd shade. 
 Within a cowshps blossom deep. 
 
 The lovely queen of elves is laid. 
 
 May nought disturb her balmy sleep ! 
 
 Let not the snake, or baleful toad. 
 Approach the silent mansion near. 
 
 Or newt profane the sweet abode. 
 Or owl repeat her orgies here ! 
 
 No snail or worm shall hither come. 
 With noxious filth her bow'r to stain -, 
 
 Hence be the beetles sullen hum. 
 And spiders disembowel'd train ! 
 
 The love-lorn nightingale alone 
 
 Shall through Titanias arbour stray. 
 
 To soothe her sleep with melting moan. 
 And lull her with his sweetest lay. 
 
SONG III. 
 
 PUCKS NIGHT ADDRESS. 
 
 BY SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 Now the haughty lion roars. 
 
 And the wolf behovvls the moon j 
 
 Whilst the heavy ploughman snores. 
 All with weary task fordone. 
 
 Now the wasted brands do glow. 
 
 Whilst the screech-owl, screeching 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, 
 
 Eveiy one lets forth his sprite. 
 In the church- way path, to glide. 
 
194 PUCKS NIGHT ADDRESS. 
 
 And we fairys, that do run. 
 
 By the triple Hecates team_, 
 From the presence of the sun. 
 
 Following darkness like a dream. 
 Now are frolick 5 not a mouse 
 Shall disturb this hallow'd house : 
 I am sent, with broom, before. 
 To sweep the dust behind the door*. 
 
 * Midsummer-nights Dream, 
 
SONG IV. 
 
 QUEEN MABS INVITATION. 
 
 Come follow, follow me. 
 Ye fairy elves that be 
 Light tripping o'er the green. 
 Come follow Mab your queen : 
 
 Hand in hand we'll dance around. 
 
 For this place is fairy-ground. 
 
 When mortals are at rest. 
 And snoring in their nest. 
 Unheard and unespied. 
 Through key-holes we do glide ; 
 
 Over tables, stools, and shelves. 
 
 We trip it with our fairy elves. 
 
 And if the house be foul. 
 With platter, dish, or bowl. 
 Up stairs we nimbly creep, 
 And find the sluts asleep ; 
 
 o2 
 
196 QUEEN MABS INVITATION. 
 
 Then we pinch their arms and thighs ; 
 None us hears, and none us spies. 
 
 But if the house be swept. 
 And from uncleanness kept. 
 We praise the household maid. 
 And duly she is paid : 
 
 Every night before we go, 
 
 We drop a tester in her shoe. 
 
 Then o'er a mushrooms head 
 Our table-cloth we spread 5 
 A grain of rye or wheat 
 The diet that we eat 5 
 Pearly drops of dew we drink. 
 In acorn cups fiU'd to the brink. 
 
 The grasshopper, gnat, and fly. 
 Serve for our minstrelsy^ 
 Grace said, we dance ti while. 
 And so the time beguile : 
 And, if the moon doth hide her head. 
 The glow-worm lights us home to bed. 
 
 0*er tops of dewy grass 
 So nimbly we do puss. 
 
QUEEN MABS INVITATION. 197 
 
 The young and tender stalk 
 Ne'er bends where we do walk 3 
 Yet in the morning may be seen 
 Where we the night before have been. 
 
SONG V. 
 
 THE PRANKS OF ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW. 
 
 From Oberon^ in fairy-land. 
 
 The king of ghosts and shadows there. 
 Mad Robin I, at his command. 
 
 Am sent to view the night-sports here -, 
 What revel-rout 
 Is kept about 
 In every corner where I go, 
 I will o'ersee. 
 And merry be. 
 And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho ! 
 
 More swift than lightning can I fly 
 
 About this airy welkin soon. 
 And, in a minutes space, descry 
 
 Each thing that's done below the moon : 
 There 's not a hag, 
 Nor ghost shall wag. 
 
ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW. 199 
 
 Nor cry. Goblin ! where I do go 3 
 
 But Robin I 
 
 Their feats will spy. 
 And fear them home, with ho, ho, ho ! 
 
 If any wanderers I meet. 
 
 That from their night-sport do trudge home. 
 With counterfeiting voice 1 greet. 
 
 And cause them on with me to roam 5 
 Through woods, through lakes. 
 Through bogs, through brakes. 
 O'er bush and brier, with them 1 go, 
 I call upon 
 Them to come on. 
 And wend me laughing, ho, ho, ho ! 
 
 Sometimes 1 meet them like a man. 
 
 Sometimes, an ox, sometimes, a hound 3 
 And to a horse I turn me can. 
 
 To trip and trot about them round j 
 But if, to ride. 
 My back they stride, 
 More swift than wind away I go 3 
 O'er hedge and lands. 
 Through pools and ponds, 
 I whinny laughing, ho, ho, ho ! 
 
200 UOBIN GOOD-FELLOW. 
 
 When lads and lasses merry be. 
 
 With possetSj and with junkets fine^ 
 Unseen of all the company, 
 
 I eat their cates, and sip their wine -, 
 And to make sport, 
 I f — t and snort. 
 And out the candles I do blow ; 
 The maids I kiss 3 
 They shriek — who's this ? 
 I answer nought, but ho, ho, ho ! 
 
 Yet, now and then, the maids to please, 
 
 I card, at midnight, up their wool ; 
 And, while they sleep, snort, f — t, and fease. 
 With wheel to thread their flax I pull -, 
 I grind at mill 
 Their malt up still, 
 I dress their hemp, I spin their tow 3 
 If any wake. 
 And would me take, 
 I wend me laughing, ho, ho, ho ! 
 
 When house or hearth doth sluttish lie, 
 I pinch the maidens black and blue ; 
 
 And from the bed the bed-clothes I 
 Pull off, and lay them nak'd to view j 
 
ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW. 201 
 
 'Twixt sleep and wake, 
 
 I do them take. 
 And on the ' clay-cold' floor them throw. 
 
 If out they cry. 
 
 Then forth I fly. 
 And loudly laugh I, ho, ho, ho ! 
 
 When any need to borrow ought. 
 
 We lend them what they do require 3 
 And for the use demand we nought ; 
 Our own is all we do desire : 
 If to repay 
 They do delay. 
 Abroad amongst them then I go 5 
 And night by night 
 I them affright. 
 With pinching, dreams, and ho, ho, ho ! 
 
 When lazy queans have nought to do. 
 
 But study how to cog and lie. 
 To make debate, and miscliief too, 
 'Twixt one another secretly, 
 1 mark their glose. 
 And it disclose 
 To them that they have wronged so 3 
 When I have done 
 I get me gone. 
 And leave them scolding, ho, ho, ho ! 
 
202 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW. 
 
 When men do traps and engines set 
 
 In loop-holes, where the vermin creep. 
 Who from their folds and houses fet 
 
 Their ducks and geese, and lambs and sheep, 
 I spy the gin. 
 And enter in. 
 And seem a vermin taken so 5 
 But, when they there 
 Approach me near, 
 I leap out laughing, ho, ho, ho ! 
 
 By wells, and gills, in meadows green. 
 
 We nightly dance our hey-day guise 5 
 And, to our fairy king and queen. 
 We chant our moonlight minstrelsies : 
 When larks 'gin sing 
 Away we fling. 
 And babes new-born steal as we go. 
 An elf in bed 
 We leave instead. 
 And wend us laughing, ho, ho, ho ! 
 
 From hag-bred Merlins time have I 
 Thus nightly revell'd to and fro 3 
 And for my pranks men call me by 
 The name of Robin Good-fellow : 
 Fiends ghosts and sprites. 
 That haunt the nights. 
 
IIOBIN GOOD-FELLOW. 203 
 
 The hags and goblins^ do me know 5 
 
 And beldames old 
 
 My feats have told j 
 So vale, vale ! ho, ho, ho ! 
 
SONG VI. 
 
 THE FAIRYS FAREWELL, 
 
 Farewell rewards and fairies ! 
 
 Good housewives now may say -, 
 For now foul sluts in dairies. 
 
 Do fare as well as they . 
 And though they sweep their hearths no less 
 
 Than maids were wont to do. 
 Yet who of late for cleanliness 
 
 Finds six-pence in her shoe ? 
 
 Lament, lament old abbies. 
 
 The fairies lost command 3 
 They did but change priests babies. 
 
 But some have changed your land : 
 And all your children stol'n from thence 
 
 Are now grown puritanes. 
 Who live as changelings ever since. 
 
 For love of your demaines. 
 
THK FAIRYS FAREWELL. 205 
 
 At morning and at evening both 
 
 You merry were and glad. 
 So little care of sleep and sloth. 
 
 These pretty ladies had. 
 When Tom came home from labour. 
 
 Or Ciss to milking rose. 
 Then merrily went their tabour. 
 
 And nimbly went their toes. 
 
 Witness those rings and roundelays 
 
 Of theirs, which yet remain ; 
 Were footed in queen Marys days 
 
 On many a grassy plain. 
 But since of late Elizabeth, 
 
 And later James came in. 
 They never danced on any heath. 
 
 As when the time hath bin. 
 
 By which we note the fairies 
 
 Were of the old profession -, 
 Their songs were Ave Maries, 
 
 Their dances were procession. 
 But now, alas ! they all are dead. 
 
 Or gone beyond the seas, 
 Or farther for religion fled. 
 
 Or else to take their ease. 
 
206 THE FAIRYS FAREWELL, 
 
 A tell-tale in their company, 
 
 They never could endure 5 
 And whoso kept not secretly 
 
 Their mirth was punish' d sure : 
 It was a just and christian deed 
 
 To pinch such black and blue : 
 O how the commonwealth doth need 
 
 Such justices as you ! 
 
 Now they have left our quarters 3 
 
 A register they have. 
 Who can preserve their charters 5 
 
 A man both wise and grave. 
 An hundred of their merr^- pranks 
 
 By one that I could name 
 Are kept in store ; con twenty thanks 
 
 To William for the same. 
 
 To William Churne of Staffordshire 
 
 Give laud and praises due. 
 Who every meal can mend your chear 
 
 With tales both old and true : 
 To William all give audience, 
 
 And pray ye for his noddle : 
 
THE FAIRYS FAREWELL. 201 
 
 For all the fairies evidence 
 Were lost if it were addle.* 
 
 • By Richard Corbet, afterwards bishop of Oxford and 
 Norwich, who died in 1635. Posterity would have been 
 much more indebted to this witty prelate for a few of gaffer 
 Chumes fairy-tales than for all the sermons his lordship 
 ever wrote. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON', WHITEFRIARS. 
 
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 I. 
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