The secret commonwealth of elves, fauns & fairies

This book was published in 1893 and is a careful reproduction of a book printed in 1815 from a manuscript of 1691 by Rev. Robert Kirk. An Introduction and Notes have been added by Andrew Lang for the 1893 publication.

In this etext: Italic text is denoted by underscores. Bold text is denoted by =equal signs=.

Footnote anchors are denoted by [number], and the Lang footnotes have been placed at the end of the book in front of the two Catalog pages.

Except for a very few changes noted at the end of the book, all misspellings in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been left unchanged.

THE SECRET COMMONWEALTH OF ELVES FAUNS & FAIRIES

[Illustration: BIBLIOTHEQUE DE CARABAS]

Bibliothèque de Carabas

VOL. VIII

Five hundred and fifty copies of this Edition have been printed, five hundred of which are for sale.

[All rights reserved.]

[Illustration: (Kilted shepherd looking at an apparition)]

The Secret Commonwealth of

Elves, Fauns, & Fairies

A Study in Folk-Lore & Psychical Research. The Text by Robert Kirk, M.A., Minister of Aberfoyle, A.D. 1691. The Comment by Andrew Lang, M.A. A.D. 1893

[Illustration: (small decorative icon)]

LONDON. M.D.CCCXCIII. PUBLISHED BY DAVID NUTT, IN THE STRAND

Dedication.

TO

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

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 kens na hell!

Ye hae nae heather, peat, nor birks, Nae troot in a’ your burnies lurks, There are nae bonny U.P. kirks, An awfu’ place! Nane kens the Covenant o’ Works Frae that of 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’ oor hame. To speak the truth, I tak’ na 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 of the Banshie, And frae the water-kelpie flee, Ere a’ things cease, And island bairns may stolen be By the Folk o’ Peace.

Faith, they might steal me, wi’ ma will, And, ken’d I ony Fairy hill, I’d lay me down there, snod and still, Their land to win, For, man, I’ve maistly had my fill O’ this world’s din.

The Fairy Minister.

IN MEMORY OF THE REV. ROBERT KIRK, WHO WENT TO HIS OWN HERD, AND ENTERED INTO THE LAND OF THE PEOPLE OF PEACE, IN THE YEAR OF GRACE SIXTEEN HUNDRED AND NINETY-TWO, AND OF HIS AGE FIFTY-TWO.

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. A. L.