’Twas when the spinning-room was here, Came Three Damsels clothed in white, With their spindles every night; Two and one, and Three fair Maidens, Spinning to a pulsing cadence, Singing songs of Elfin-Mere; Till the eleventh hour was told, Then departed through the wold. _Years ago, and years ago;_ _And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow._ Three white Lilies, calm and clear, And they were loved by every one; Most of all, the Parson’s son, Listening to their gentle singing, Felt his heart go from him, clinging, Round these Maids of Elfin-Mere; Sued each night to make them stay, Sadden’d when they went away. _Years ago, and years ago;_ _And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow._ Hands that shook with love and fear, Dared put back the village clock,— Flew the spindle, turn’d the rock, Flow’d the song with subtle rounding, Till the false “eleven” was sounding; Then these Maids of Elfin-Mere Swiftly, softly, left the room, Like three doves on snowy plume. _Years ago, and years ago;_ _And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow._ One that night who wander’d near Heard lamentings by the shore, Saw at dawn three stains of gore In the waters fade and dwindle. Nevermore with song and spindle Saw we Maids of Elfin-Mere. The Pastor’s Son did pine and die; Because true love should never lie. _Years ago, and years ago;_ _And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow._ WILLIAM ALLINGHAM. Epilogue. FAREWELL TO THE FAIRIES. Farewell rewards and fairies, Good housewives now may say, For now foul sluts in dairies Do fare as well as they. And though they sweep their hearths no less Than maids were wont to do, Yet who of late, for cleanliness, Finds sixpence in her shoe? Lament, lament, old abbeys, The fairies lost command; They did but change priests’ babies, But some have changed your land; And all your children sprung from thence Are now grown Puritans; Who live as changelings ever since, For love of your domains. At morning and at evening both, You merry were and glad, So little care of sleep or sloth These pretty ladies had; When Tom came home from labour, Or Cis to milking rose, Then merrily went their tabour, And nimbly went their toes. Witness those rings and roundelays Of theirs, which yet remain, Were footed in Queen Mary’s days On many a grassy plain; But since of late Elizabeth, And later, James came in, They never danced on any heath As when the time hath been. By which we note the fairies Were of the old profession, Their songs were Ave Maries, Their dances were procession: But now, alas! they all are dead, Or gone beyond the seas; Or farther for religion fled, Or else they take their ease.