The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies

The Fairy Minister

IN MEMORY OF
The Rev. ROBERT KIRK,
WHO WENT TO HIS OWN HERD, AND ENTERED INTO
THE LAND OF THE PEOPLE OF PEACE,
IN THE YEAR OF GRACE SIXTEEN
HUNDRED AND NINETY-TWO,
AND OF HIS AGE
FIFTY-TWO.

People of Peace! A peaceful man,
  Well worthy of your love was he,
Who, while the roaring Garry ran
  Red with the life-blood of Dundee,
While coats were turning, crowns were falling,
  Wandered along his valley still,
And heard your mystic voices calling
  From fairy knowe and haunted hill.
He heard, he saw, he knew too well
  The secrets of your fairy clan;
You stole him from the haunted dell,
  Who never more was seen of man.
Now far from heaven, and safe from hell,
  Unknown of earth, he wanders free.
Would that he might return and tell
  Of his mysterious company!
For we have tired the Folk of Peace;
  No more they tax our corn and oil;
Their dances on the moorland cease,
  The Brownie stints his wonted toil.
No more shall any shepherd meet
  The ladies of the fairy clan,
Nor are their deathly kisses sweet
  On lips of any earthly man.
And half I envy him who now,
  Clothed in her Court’s enchanted green,
By moonlit loch or mountain’s brow
  Is Chaplain to the Fairy Queen.
          A. L.

KIRK’S

SECRET COMMONWEALTH.