CONNLA of the Fiery Hair was son of Conn of the Hundred Fights. One day as he stood by the side of his father on the height of Usna, he saw a maiden clad in strange attire coming towards him.

" Whence comest thou, maiden? " said Connla.

" I come from the Plains of the Ever Living," she said, "there where there is neither death nor sin. There we keep holiday alway, nor need we help from any in our joy. And in all our pleasure we have no strife. And because we have our homes in the round green hills, men call us the Hill Folk."

The king and all with him wondered much to hear a voice when they saw no one. For save Connla alone, none saw the Fairy Maiden.

" To whom art thou talking, my son? " said Conn the king.

Then the maiden answered, " Connla speaks to a young, fair maid, whom neither death nor old age awaits. I love Connla, and now I call him away to the Plain of Pleasure, Moy Mell, where Boadag is king for aye, nor has there been complaint or sorrow in that land since he has held the kingship. Oh, come with me, Connla of the Fiery Hair, ruddy as the dawn with thy tawny skin. A fairy crown awaits thee to grace thy comely face and royal form. Come, and never shall thy comeliness fade, nor thy youth, till the last awful day of judgment."

The king in fear at what the maiden said, which lie heard though he could not see her, called aloud to his Druid, Coran by name.

" Oh, Coran of the many spells," he said, " and of the cunning magic, I call upon thy aid. A task is upon me too great for all my skill and wit, greater than any laid upon me since I seized the kingship. A maiden unseen has met us, and by her power would take from me my dear, my comely son. If thou help not, he will be taken from thy king by woman's wiles and witchery."

Then Coran the Druid stood forth and chanted his spells towards the spot where the maiden's voice had been heard. And none heard her voice again, nor could Connla see her longer. Only as she vanished before the Druid's mighty spell, she threw an apple to Connla.

For a whole month from that day Connla would take nothing, either to eat or to drink, save only from that apple. But as he ate it grew again and always kept whole. And all the while there grew within him a mighty yearning and longing after the maiden he had seen.

But when the last day of the month of waiting came, Connla stood by the side of the king his father on the Plain of Arcomin, and again he saw the maiden come towards him, and again she spoke to him.
 
 

"Tis a glorious place, forsooth, that Connla holds among short-lived mortals awaiting the day of death. But now the folk of life, the ever-living ones, beg and bid thee come to Moy Mell, the Plain of Pleasure, for they have learnt to know thee, seeing thee in thy home among-thy dear ones."

When Conn the king heard the maiden's voice he called to his men aloud and said:

"Summon swift my Druid Coran, for I see she has again this day the power of speech."

Then the maiden said: " Oh, mighty Conn, fighter of a hundred fights, the Druid's power is little loved; it has little honour in the mighty land, peopled with so many of the upright. When the Law will come, it will do away with the Druid's magic spells that come from the lips of the false black demon."

Then Conn the king observed that since the maiden came Connla his son spoke to none that spake to him. So Conn of the hundred fights said to him, " Is it to thy mind what the woman says, my son? "

" 'Tis hard upon me," then said Connla; "I love my own folk above all things; but yet, but yet a longing seizes me for the maiden."

When the maiden heard this, she answered and said

"The ocean is not so strong as the waves of thy longing. Come with me in my curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. Soon we can reach Boadag's realm. I see the bright sun sink, yet far as it is, we can reach it before dark. There is, too, another land worthy of thy journey, a land joyous to all that seek it. Only wives and maidens dwell there. If thou wilt, we can seek it and live there alone together in joy."

When the maiden ceased to speak, Connla of the Fiery Hair rushed away from them and sprang into the curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. And then they all, king and court, saw it glide away over the bright sea towards the setting sun. Away and away, till eye could see it no longer, and Connla and the Fairy Maiden went their way on the sea, and were no more seen, nor did any know where they came.
 

From Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs

The Fairy Pendant 
By W.B. Yeats 

First Fairy: Afar from our lawn and our levee, 
O sister of sorrowful gaze! 
Where the roses in scarlet are heavy 
And dream of the end of their days, 
You move in another dominion 
And hang o'er the historied stone: 
Unpruned in your beautiful pinion 
Who wander and whisper alone. 

All: Come away while the moon's in the woodland, 
We'll dance and then feast in a dairy. 
Though youngest of all in our good band, 
You are wasting away, little fairy. 

Second Fairy: Ah! cruel ones, leave me alone now 
While I murmur a little and ponder 
The history here in the stone now; 
Then away and away I will wander, 
And measure the minds of the flowers, 
And gaze on the meadow-mice wary, 
And number their days and their hours-- 

All: You're wasting away, little fairy. 

Second Fairy: O shining ones, lightly with song pass, 
Ah! leave me, I pray you and beg. 
My mother drew forth from the long grass 
A piece of a nightingle's egg, 
And cradled me here where are sung, 
Of birds even, longings for aery 
Wild wisdoms of spirit and tongue. 

All: You're wasting away, little fairy. 

First Fairy [turning away]: 
Though the tenderest roses were round you, 
The soul of this pitiless place 
With pitiless magic has bound you-- 
Ah! woe for the loss of your face, 
And the loss of your laugh with its lightness-- 
Ah! woe for your wings and your head-- 
Ah! woe for your eyes and their brightness-- 
Ah! woe for your slippers of red. 

All: Come away while the moon's in the woodland, 
We'll dance and then feast in a dairy. 
Though youngest of all in our good band, 
She's wasting away, little fairy.

Slipping through the silent trees,
Flowing through the silent night,
Swimming on the summer breeze,
Knowing all of summer's delight.

Silver wings glide through the air,
blue as the sky show her eyes,
Silver is her flowing hair,
True beauty shows with no disguise.

Laughter on the summer wind,
Dance by night in the forest glen,
Banter with her spiritly kin,
Prancing with her bright eyed friend.

Faeries dance in the pale moon light,
Sidhe join in to dance and sing,
Merrily they dance and fly tonight,
Did they not enjoyment bring?

Slipping through the flowers they go,
To their homes to sleep today,
Flitting away from the sun that shows,
To bed they head do not delay.

Daylight shows on the faerie ring,
Grass and flowers and stones,
But tonight what moon light brings,
They court of the fey, queen on her throne.

Slowly goes the bright sun down,
Twilight spreads across the land,
Mostly have the fey gathered around,
By flight they come with pixie brands.

The night is bright with faerie light,
The queen does dance this faerie round,
The sight is sweet this faerie night,
The queen does sing, a beautiful sound.

With child's eyes we must seek out,
The faerie dance this lovely sight,
With innocence and heart devout,
We seek the faerie dance tonight.

Fairy Song
By Felicia Dorothea Browne-Hemans

 ALL my life is joy and plaesure,
Sportive as my tuneful measure;
In the rose's cup I dwell, Balmy sweets perfume my cell;
My food the crimson luscious cherry,
And the vine's luxurious berry; The nectar of the dew is mine;
Nectar from the flowers divine.
And when I join the fairy band, Lightly tripping hand in hand,
By the moonlight's quivering beam, In concert with the dashing stream;
Then my music leads the dance, When the gentle fays advance;
And oft my numbers on the green, Lull to rest the fairly queen.
" All my life is joy and plaesure, " Sportive as my airy measure."

The Loreley
by Heinrich Heine

I do not know what haunts me,
What saddened my mind all day;
An age-old tale confounds me,
A spell I cannot allay.

The air is cool and in twilight
The Rhine's dark waters flow;
The peak of the mountain in highlight
Reflects the evening glow.

There sits a lovely maiden
Above so wondrous fair,
With shining jewels laden,
She combs her golden hair.

It falls through her comb in a shower,
And over the valley rings
A song of mysterious power
That lovely maiden sings.

The boatman in his small skiff is
Seized by a turbulent love,
No longer he marks where the cliff is,
He looks to the mountain above.

I think the waves must fling him
Against the reefs nearby,
And that did with her singing
The lovely Loreley.

Fairy Song
by Thomas Haynes Bayly

Oh, where do fairies hide their heads,
when snow lies on the hills,
when frost has spoil'd their mossy beds
and crystalized their rills?

Beneath the moon they cannot trip
in circles o're the plain,
and drafts of dew they cannot sip
till green leaves come again;
till green leaves come again.

Perhaps in small blue diving bells
they plunge beneath the waves,
inhabiting the wreathed shells
that liein coral caves.

Perhaps in red Vesuvius Carousals they maintain,
and cheer their little spirits up,
till green leaves come again;
till green leaves come again.

When back they come there'll be glad mirth
and music in the air,
and fairy wings upon the earth,
and mischief everywhere.

Children born of fairy stock
Never need for shirt or frock,
Never want for food or fire,
Always get their heart's desire:
Jingle pockets full of gold,
Marry when they're seven years old.
Every fairy child may keep
Two strong ponies and ten sheep;
All have houses, each his own,
Built of brick or granite stone;
They live on cherries, they run wild
I'd love to be a Fairy's child.

The Elve's Dance
annonamous

The Fairies

by Rose Fyleman

 There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
It's not so very, very far away;
You pass the gardener's shed and you just keep straight ahead--
I do so hope they've really come to stay.
There's a little wood, with moss in it and beetles,
And a little stream that quietly runs through;
You wouldn't think they'd dare to come merrymaking there--
Well, they do.

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
They often have a dance there on summer nights;
The butterflies and bees make a lovely breeze,
And the rabbits stand about to hold the lights.
Did you know that they could sit upon the moonbeams
And pick a little star to make a fan,
And dance away up there in the middle of the air?
Well, they can.

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
You cannot think how beautiful they are;
They all stand up and sing when the Fairy Queen and King
Come gently floating down upon their car.
The King is very proud and very handsome;
The Queen--now you can guess who that could be?
(She's a little girl all day, but at night she steals away)
Well, it's me!

Faery Song
John Keats

Ah ! Woe is me ! poor silver-wing !
That I must chant they lady's dirge,
And death to this fair haunt of spring,
Of melody, and streams of flowery verge --
Poor silver-wing ! ah ! woe is me !
That I must see
These blossoms snow upon thy lady's pall !
Go, pretty page ! and in her ear
Whisper that the hour is near !
Softly tell her not to fear
Such calm Favonian burial !
Go, pretty page ! and softly tell --
The blossoms hang by a melting spell,
And fall they must, ere a star wink thrice
Upon her closed eyes,
That now in vain are weeping in their last tears,
At sweet life leaving, and these arbors green --
Rich dowry from the spirit of the spheres
alas ! poor queen !

Fairy places, fairy things,
Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,
Tiny trees for tiny dames--
These must all be fairy names!

Tiny woods below whose boughs
Shady fairies weave a house;
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme,
Where the braver fairies climb!

Fair are grown-up people's trees,
But the fairest woods are these;
Where, if I were not so tall,
I should live for good and all.

When at home alone I sit
And am very tired of it,
I have just to shut my eyes
To go sailing through the skies--
To go sailing far away
To the pleasant Land of Play;
To the fairy land afar
Where the Little People are;
Where the clover-tops are trees,
And the rain-pools are the seas,
And the leaves, like little ships,
Sail about on tiny trips;
And above the Daisy tree
Through the grasses,
High o'erhead the Bumble Bee
Hums and passes.

In that forest to and fro
I can wander, I can go;
See the spider and the fly,
And the ants go marching by,
Carrying parcels with their feet
Down the green and grassy street.
I can in the sorrel sit
Where the ladybird alit.
I can climb the jointed grass
And on high
See the greater swallows pass
In the sky,
And the round sun rolling by
Heeding no such things as I.

Through that forest I can pass
Till, as in a looking-glass,
Humming fly and daisy tree
And my tiny self I see,
Painted very clear and neat
On the rain-pool at my feet.
Should a leaflet come to land
Drifting near to where I stand,
Straight I'll board that tiny boat
Round the rain-pool sea to float.

Little thoughtful creatures sit
On the grassy coasts of it;
Little things with lovely eyes
See me sailing with surprise.
Some are clad in armour green--
(These have sure to battle been!)--
Some are pied with ev'ry hue,
Black and crimson, gold and blue;
Some have wings and swift are gone;--
But they all look kindly on.

When my eyes I once again
Open, and see all things plain:
High bare walls, great bare floor;
Great big knobs on drawer and door;
Great big people perched on chairs,
Stitching tucks and mending tears,
Each a hill that I could climb,
And talking nonsense all the time--
O dear me,
That I could be
A sailor on a the rain-pool sea,
A climber in the clover tree,
And just come back a sleepy-head,
Late at night to go to bed.

Have you watched the fairies when the rain is done
Spreading out their litting wings to dry them in the sun?
I have, I have! Isn't it fun?

Have you heard the fairies all among the limes
Singing little fairy tunes to little fairy rhymes?
I have, I have, lots and lots of times!

Have you seen the fairies dancing in the air
And dashing off behind the stars to tidy up their hair?
I have, I have: I've been there!

La Belle Dame sans Merci

by
John Keats

Artwork ©Cris Ortega.