“And thou must carry with thee This wheaten cake so fine; This new-made pat of butter; This little flask of wine! “And tell the dear old body, This day I cannot come, For the good man went out yester-morn, And he is not come home. “And more than this, poor Amy Upon my knee doth lie; I fear me, with this fever-pain That little child will die! “And thou can’st help thy grandmother; The table thou can’st spread; Can’st feed the little dog and bird, And thou can’st make her bed. “And thou can’st fetch the water, From the lady-well hard by; And thou can’st gather from the wood The fagots brown and dry. “Can’st go down to the lonesome glen, To milk the mother-ewe; This is the work, my Mabel, That thou wilt have to do. “But listen now, my Mabel, This is Midsummer-day, When all the fairy people From elf-land come away. “And when thou art in lonesome glen, Keep by the running burn, And do not pluck the strawberry flower, Nor break the lady-fern. “But think not of the fairy folk, Lest mischief should befall; Think only of poor Amy, And how thou lov’st us all. “Yet keep good heart, my Mabel, If thou the fairies see, And give them kindly answer If they should speak to thee. “And when into the fir-wood Thou go’st for fagots brown, Do not, like idle children, Go wandering up and down. “But, fill thy little apron, My child, with earnest speed; And that thou break no living bough Within the wood, take heed. “For they are spiteful brownies Who in the wood abide, So be thou careful of this thing, Lest evil should betide. “But think not, little Mabel, Whilst thou art in the wood, Of dwarfish, wilful brownies, But of the Father good. “And when thou goest to the spring, To fetch the water thence, Do not disturb the little stream, Lest this should give offence. “For the queen of all the fairies She loves that water bright; I’ve seen her drinking there myself On many a summer night. “But she’s a gracious lady, And her thou need’st not fear; Only disturb thou not the stream, Nor spill the water clear!” “Now all this I will heed, mother, Will no word disobey, And wait upon the grandmother This livelong summer day!” PART II. Away tripped little Mabel, With the wheaten cake so fine; With the new-made pat of butter, And the little flask of wine. And long before the sun was hot, And morning mists had cleared, Beside the good old grandmother The willing child appeared. And all her mother’s message She told with right good-will, How that the father was away, And the little child was ill.