THE FAIRY MINISTER

[The Rev. Mr. Kirk of Aberfoyle was carried away by the Fairies in 1692.]

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.

TO ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON WITH KIRK'S 'SECRET COMMONWEALTH'

O Louis! you that like them maist, Ye're far frae kelpie, wraith, and ghaist, And fairy dames, no unco chaste, And haunted cell. Among a heathen clan ye're placed, That kensna hell!

Ye hae nae heather, peat, nor birks, Nae trout in a' yer burnies lurks, There are nae bonny U.P. kirks, An awfu' place! Nane kens the Covenant o' Works Frae that o' Grace!

But whiles, maybe, to them ye'll read Blads o' the Covenanting creed, And whiles their pagan wames ye'll feed On halesome parritch; And syne ye'll gar them learn a screed O' the Shorter Carritch.

Yet thae uncovenanted shavers Hae rowth, ye say, o' clash and clavers O' gods and etins--auld wives' havers, But their delight; The voice o' him

that tells them quavers Just wi' fair fright.

And ye might tell, ayont the faem, Thae Hieland clashes o' our hame To speak the truth, I takna shame To half believe them; And, stamped wi' Tusitala's name, They'll a' receive them.

And folk to come ayont the sea May hear the yowl o' the Banshie, And frae the water-kelpie flee, Ere a' things cease, And island bairns may stolen be By the Folk o' Peace.