Dark to our eyes, Alas!
After all, Geoffrey Chaucer, even in his distant day, lamented that England was bereft of the Silent Folk. Whisper, and they will return—bringing with them Prince Oberon, who "is of heyght but of III fote, and crokyd shulderyd.... And yf ye speke to hym, ye are lost for ever."
[140]. "Awm. 'Who feasts tonight?'"
Another mere fragment—from p. 182 of Mr. C. M. Doughty's Play, entitled The Cliffs. For the complete "feast" bestowed on the world by this great traveller and poet, the reader must seek out not only this volume, but his Arabia Deserta, and his Dawn in Britain.
"All in Their Watchet Cloaks." (line 15)
"Nan Page (my daughter) and my little sonne,
And three or foure more of their growth, wee'l dress
Like Urchins, Ouphes, and Fairies, greene and white,
With rounds of waxen Tapers on their heads,
And rattles in their hands ..."