The green hill cleaves, and forth, with a bound,
      Comes elf and elfin steed;
   The moon dives down in a golden cloud,
      The stars grow dim with dread;
   But a light is running along the earth,
      So of heaven’s they have no need: 
   O’er moor and moss with a shout they pass,
      And the word is spur and speed—­
   But the fire maun burn, and I maun quake,
   And the hour is gone that will never come back.

   And when they came to Craigyburnwood,
      The Queen of the Fairies spoke: 
   “Come, bind your steeds to the rushes so green,
      And dance by the haunted oak: 
   I found the acorn on Heshbon Hill,
      In the nook of a palmer’s poke,
   A thousand years since; here it grows!”
      And they danced till the greenwood shook: 
   But oh! the fire, the burning fire,
   The longer it burns, it but blazes the higher.

   “I have won me a youth,” the Elf Queen said,
      “The fairest that earth may see;
   This night I have won young Elph Irving
      My cupbearer to be. 
   His service lasts but seven sweet years,
      And his wage is a kiss of me.” 
   And merrily, merrily, laughed the wild elves
      Round Corris’s greenwood tree. 
   But oh! the fire it glows in my brain,
   And the hour is gone, and comes not again.

   The Queen she has whispered a secret word,
      “Come hither my Elphin sweet,
   And bring that cup of the charmed wine,
      Thy lips and mine to weet.” 
   But a brown elf shouted a loud, loud shout,
      “Come, leap on your coursers fleet,
   For here comes the smell of some baptised flesh,
      And the sounding of baptised feet.” 
   But oh! the fire that burns, and maun burn;
   For the time that is gone will never return.

   On a steed as white as the new-milked milk,
      The Elf Queen leaped with a bound,
   And young Elphin a steed like December snow
      ’Neath him at the word he found. 
   But a maiden came, and her christened arms
      She linked her brother around,
   And called on God, and the steed with a snort
      Sank into the gaping ground. 
   But the fire maun burn, and I maun quake,
   And the time that is gone will no more come back.

   And she held her brother, and lo! he grew
      A wild bull waked in ire;
   And she held her brother, and lo! he changed
      To a river roaring higher;
   And she held her brother, and he became
      A flood of the raging fire;
   She shrieked and sank, and the wild elves laughed
      Till the mountain rang and mire. 
   But oh! the fire yet burns in my brain,
   And the hour is gone, and comes not again.