Oh, hush thee, my babie! thy sire was a knight,
Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright;
The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see,
They all are belonging, dear babie, to thee.
Oh, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows,
It calls but the warders that guard thy repose;
Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red,
Ere the step of a foeman draw near to thy bed.
Oh, hush thee, my babie! the time soon will come,
When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum;
Then hush thee, my darling! take rest while you may;
For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day.
—Sir Walter Scott.
The Fairy Queen
(An Old Song)
Come follow, follow me,
You fairy elves that be,
Which circle on the green;
Come, follow Mab your queen.
Hand in hand let's dance around,
For this place is fairy ground.
The grasshopper, gnat, and fly,
Serve for our minstrelsy;
Grace said, we dance a while
And so the time beguile:
And if the moon doth hide her head,
The glowworm lights us home to bed.
On tops of dewy grass
So nimbly do we pass,
The young and tender stalk
Ne'er bends when we do walk;
Yet in the morning may be seen
Where we the night before have been.
—Unknown.
Ring Out, Wild Bells
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.