Elphin Irving

THE FAIRIES' CUPBEARER.

"The lady kilted her kirtle green
A little aboon her knee,
The lady snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she's gane to the good greenwood
As fast as she could hie.

And first she let the black steed pass,
And syne she let the brown,
And then she flew to the milk-white steed,
And pulled the rider down:
Syne out then sang the queen o' the fairies,
Frae midst a bank of broom,
She that has won him, young Tamlane,
Has gotten a gallant groom."

_Old Ballad_.

"The romantic vale of Corriewater, in Annandale, is regarded by the
inhabitants, a pastoral and unmingled people, as the last border refuge
of those beautiful and capricious beings, the fairies. Many old people
yet living imagine they have had intercourse of good words and good deeds
with the 'good folk'; and continue to tell that in the ancient days the
fairies danced on the hill, and revelled in the glen, and showed
themselves, like the mysterious children of the deity of old, among the
sons and daughters of men. Their visits to the earth were periods of joy
and mirth to mankind, rather than of sorrow and apprehension. They
played on musical instruments of wonderful sweetness and variety of note,
spread unexpected feasts, the supernatural flavour of which overpowered
on many occasions the religious scruples of the Presbyterian shepherds,
performed wonderful deeds of horsemanship, and marched in midnight
processions, when the sound of their elfin minstrelsy charmed youths and
maidens into love for their persons and pursuits; and more than one
family of Corriewater have the fame of augmenting the numbers of the
elfin chivalry. Faces of friends and relatives, long since doomed to the
battle-trench or the deep sea, have been recognised by those who dared to
gaze on the fairy march. The maid has seen her lost lover, and the
mother her stolen child; and the courage to plan and achieve their
deliverance has been possessed by, at least, one border maiden. In the
legends of the people of Corrievale, there is a singular mixture of elfin
and human adventure, and the traditional story of the Cupbearer to the
Queen of the Fairies appeals alike to our domestic feelings and
imagination.

"In one of the little green loops or bends on the banks of Corriewater,
mouldered walls, and a few stunted wild plum-trees and vagrant roses,
still point out the site of a cottage and garden. A well of pure spring-
water leaps out from an old tree-root before the door; and here the
shepherds, shading themselves in summer from the influence of the sun,
tell to their children the wild tale of Elphin Irving and his sister
Phemie; and, singular as the story seems, it has