voices and head-voices, and it would raise gloom from one's heart to hear a good song from them.
There was one of the pipers who knew fairy music. He often used to play the fairy music on the pipes, of his own accord; but it was very hard to get him to play it when he was asked to do so. He used to say it was not right to play it to people because it was too eerie.
When they were all tired and fagged and worn out and exhausted by the dancing, they asked the piper to play the fairy music to them. He refused for a long time. He said the music was too eerie, and that it would not do to play it in a company. They gave him another drink of the King's wine, and they went on urging him until he had to yield. He got the pipes ready, and filled the bag. The company became as silent as if they had neither life nor breath.
Soon the people heard a low murmuring sound, deep and tender, fine and soft and smooth, moving round the house outside. Then people thought there was something like a rush of wind accompanying the movement of sound, and that it was the wind that was producing the sound, and not the pipes. Then a beautiful melody broke through the sound, and both the melody and the low murmuring came into the house. The murmur grew stronger, and there came a sort of trembling and swaying in the sound of it. Soon there was heard another sound, trembling and swaying in the same manner, with a sweet, delightful melody running through it, while it and the other sound and melody did not detract from, but rather enhanced each other, so that the melody was improved by the sound, and the sound
