When he came to himself, which was not for a long time, back he went to his cabin, and ate his dry potatoes along with Father Horrigan, who made quite light of the thing; but Dermod could not help thinking it a mighty hard case that his reverence, whose words had the power to banish the fairies at such a rate, should have no sort of relish to his supper, and that the fine salmon he had in the net should have been got away from him in such a manner. THE FAIRY WELL OF LAGNANAY. BY SAMUEL FERGUSON. Mournfully, sing mournfully-- "O listen, Ellen, sister dear: Is there no help at all for me, But only ceaseless sigh and tear? Why did not he who left me here, With stolen hope steal memory? O listen, Ellen, sister dear, (Mournfully, sing mournfully)-- I'll go away to Sleamish hill, I'll pluck the fairy hawthorn-tree, And let the spirits work their will; I care not if for good or ill, So they but lay the memory Which all my heart is haunting still! (Mournfully, sing mournfully)-- The Fairies are a silent race, And pale as lily flowers to see; I care not for a blanched face, For wandering in a dreaming place, So I but banish memory:-- I wish I were with Anna Grace!" Mournfully, sing mournfully! Hearken to my tale of woe-- 'Twas thus to weeping Ellen Con, Her sister said in accents low, Her only sister, Una bawn: 'Twas in their bed before the dawn, And Ellen answered sad and slow,-- "Oh Una, Una, be not drawn (Hearken to my tale of woe)-- To this unholy grief I pray, Which makes me sick at heart to know, And I will help you if I may: --The Fairy Well of Lagnanay-- Lie nearer me, I tremble so,-- Una, I've heard wise women say (Hearken to my tale of woe)-- That if before the dews arise, True maiden in its icy flow With pure hand bathe her bosom thrice, Three lady-brackens pluck likewise, And three times round the fountain go, She straight forgets her tears and sighs." Hearken to my tale of woe!