Ballade of Fairy Gold
A goblin trapped in netted skein,
Did bruise his wings with vain essay;
“Now who will rend this hempen chain?
Let that man ask me what he may,
I shall not, surely, say him nay:
The shadows wane, the day grows old,
Meseems this mesh will keep for aye
The sun-bright glint of Fairy Gold!”
These echoes of the creature’s pain,
As in the fowler’s net he lay,
Drew soon anigh a surly swain
Who cut the cords and freed the fay:
“Now what fair gift shall well repay
Thy service done?—for words are cold—
Sweet looks or wisdom! vine or bay?”
“The sun-bright glint of Fairy Gold.”
“Thou choosest ill, but speech is vain,
Lo! here is treasure good and gay:”
The goat-herd grasped his golden gain
And bore the shining store away;
He oped his chest, at break of day,
To find—no talents, bright and cold,
But soft, dead cowslips—nowhere lay
The sun-bright glint of Fairy Gold!
Envoy.
Take hands, O Prince, for we will stray,
We twain, where nought is bought or sold,
And find in every woodland way,
The sun-bright glint of Fairy Gold.
Graham R. Tomson.