At matins and evensong
Pray ye for a faery soul!
If the day be long
With grief and dole
May your hearts be strong;
Pray ye deep and well,
Yea, pray deep,
For low in the dell
Doth a dead fay sleep.
Light and shimmering dance;
Light danced he on moor and lea!
O’er the river’s glance,
And the green sea:
And now lies still
By the bitter cress and brier,
By the slow and shallow rill,
That from out the thymy hill
Flows, from elfin forge and fire;
Pray aloud, and say,
“Farewell, O thou dancing fay!”
Canst thou, priest, for wandering sprite
Say a mass?
He dwelt not in house at night,
But, in light
Eager mazes swiftly going,
Danced on mountain and morass;
Give him, father, of thy prayer,
For he was most brightly fair:
Yet, priest, if thou will not pray,
Thou’lt not compass his undoing.
At matins and evensong,
With mass and requiem
Say, “For soul of errant fay,
For a leaf plucked from the stem,
For a spirit bright as day
Do we pray”:
And the brier and bitter cress
By his side
Both put on a sober dress;
In the tide
Of the slow and shallow rill
Every herb his tears doth spill:
Every herb that decks the dell
Scattereth all his gems, and saith,
“Weep we for a faery’s death!
Fay, farewell!”