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قراءة كتاب Elves and Heroes
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
down before her,
She will raise him with a sigh—
Her love so bright who danced to-night across the Northern Sky.
Then up will leap the other,
And up will leap his clan—
O the lover and his company
Will fight them man to man—
All shrieking from the conflict
The merry maidens fly—
There's a Battle Royal raging now across the Northern Sky.
Through all the hours of darkness
The fearsome fight will last;
They are leaping white with anger,
And the blows are falling fast—
And where the slain have tumbled
A pool of blood will lie—
O it's dripping on the dark green stones from out the Northern Sky.
When yon lady seeks her lover
In the cold and pearly morn,
She will find that he has fallen
By the hand that she would scorn,—
She will clasp her arms about him,
And in her anguish die!—
O never again will trip the twain across the Northern Sky.
MY GUNNA.
When my kine are on the hill,
Who will charm them from all ill?
While I'll sleep at ease until
All the cocks are crowing clear.
Who'll be herding them for me?
It's the elf I fain would see—
For they're safe as safe can be
When the Gunna will be near.
He will watch the long weird night,
When the stars will shake with fright,
Or the ghostly moon leaps bright
O'er the ben like Beltane fire.
If my kine would seek the corn,
He will turn them by the horn—
And I'll find them all at morn
Lowing sweet beside the byre.
Croumba's bard has second-sight,
And he'll moan the Gunna's plight,
When the frosts are flickering white,
And the kine are housed till day;
For he'll see him perched alone
On a chilly old grey stone,
Nibbling, nibbling at a bone
That we'll maybe throw away.
He's so hungry, he's so thin,
If he'd come we'd let him in,
For a rag of fox's skin
Is the only thing he'll wear.
He'll be chittering in the cold
As he hovers round the fold,
With his locks of glimmering gold
Twined about his shoulders bare.
THE GRUAGACH.
(MILKMAID'S SONG.)
The lightsome lad wi' yellow hair,
The elfin lad that is so fair,
He comes in rich and braw attire—
To loose the kine within the byre—
My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there—
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi' yellow hair.
He's dressed so fine, he's dressed so grand,
A supple switch is in his hand;
I've seen while I a-milking sat
The shadow of his beaver hat.
My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there—
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi' yellow hair.
My chuckling lad, so full o' fun,
Around the corners he will run;
Behind the door he'll sometimes jink,
And blow to make my candle blink.
My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there—
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi' yellow hair.
The elfin lad that is so braw,
He'll sometimes hide among the straw;
He's sometimes leering from the loft—
He's tittering low and tripping soft.
My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there—
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi' yellow hair.
And every time I'll milk the kine
He'll have his share—the luck be mine!
I'll pour it in yon hollowed stone,
He'll sup it when he's all alone—
My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there—
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi' yellow hair.
O me! if I'd his milk forget,
Nor cream, nor butter I would get;
Ye needna' tell—I ken full well—
On all my kine he'd cast his spell.
My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there—
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi' yellow hair.
On nights when I would rest at ease,
The merry lad begins to tease;
He'll loose the kine to take me out,
And titter while I move about.
My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there—
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi' yellow hair.
THE LITTLE OLD MAN OF THE BARN.
When all the big lads will be hunting the deer,
And no one for helping Old Callum comes near,
O who will be busy at threshing his corn?
Who will come in the night and be going at morn?
The Little Old Man of the Barn,
Yon Little Old Man—
A bodach forlorn will be threshing his corn,
The Little Old Man of the Barn.
When the peat will turn grey and the shadows fall deep,
And weary Old Callum is snoring asleep;
When yon plant by the door will keep fairies away,
And the horse-shoe sets witches a-wandering till day.
The Little Old Man of the Barn,
Yon Little Old Man—
Will thresh with no light in the mouth of the night,
The Little Old Man of the Barn.
For the bodach is strong though his hair is so grey,
He will never be weary when he goes away—
The bodach is wise—he's so wise, he's so dear—
When the lads are all gone, he will ever be near.
The Little Old Man of the Barn,
Yon Little Old Man—
So tight and so braw he will bundle the straw—
The Little Old Man of the Barn.
YON FAIRY DOG.
'Twas bold MacCodrum of the Seals,
Whose heart would never fail,
Would hear yon fairy ban-dog fierce
Come howling down the gale;
The patt'ring of the paws would sound
Like horse's hoofs on frozen ground,
While o'er its back and curling round
Uprose its fearsome tail.
'Twas bold MacCodrum of the Seals—
Yon man that hath no fears—
Beheld the dog with dark-green back
That bends not when it rears;
Its sides were blacker than the night,
But underneath the hair was white;
Its paws were yellow, its eyes were bright,
And blood-red were its ears.
'Twas bold MacCodrum of the Seals—
The man who naught will dread—
Would wait it, stooping with his spear,
As nigh to him it sped;
The big black head it