"The Laughter of Peterkin" by William Sharp is a storybook about the Celtic Wonderworld. The old tales reveal interesting facts about Celtic myths and legends. Excerpt: "At the rising of the moon, Peterkin awoke, and laughed. He was in his little white bed near the open window, so that when a moonbeam wavered from amid the branches of the great poplar, falling suddenly upon his tangled curls and yellowing them with a ripple of pale gold, it was as though a living thing stole in out of the June night. He had not awaked at first. The moonbeam seemed caught in a tangle: then it glanced along a crescent tress on the pillow: sprang back like a startled bird: flickered hither and thither above the little sleeping face: and at last played idly on the closed eyelids with their long dark eyelashes. It was then that Peterkin awoke."

Webpage containing full text version of the laughter of peterkin: a retelling of old tales of the Celtic underworld / by Fiona Macleod (William Sharp).

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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1897 edition. Excerpt: ... Darthool and the Sons of Usna THE story I will tell you now, Peterkin, is more beautiful, though not so old. In all the regions of the Gael throughout Scotland, and in every isle, from Arran and I slay in the south, to Iona in the west, and Tiree in mid-sea, and the Outer Hebrides, there is no story of the old far-off days so well known as that of Darthool. She it is who in Ireland is called Deirthre or Deirdre; and in Ireland to this day there is not a cowherd who has not heard of Deirdre. Her beauty filled the old world of the Gael with a sweet, wonderful, and abiding rumour. The name of Deirdre has been as a lamp to a thousand poets. In a land of heroes and brave and beautiful women, how shall one name sur L.p. 177 M vive? Yet to this day and for ever, men will remember Deirdre, the torch of men's thoughts, and Grainne whom Diarmid loved and died for, and Maev who ruled mightily, and Fand whose white feet trod faery dew, and many another. For beauty is the most excellent sweet thing in all the world, and though of it a few perish, and a myriad die from knowing nothing of it, beneath it the nations of men move forward as their one imperishable star. Therefore he who adds to the beauty of the world is of the sons of God. He who destroys or debases beauty is of the darkness, and shall have darkness for his reward. The day will come, Peterkin, when you will find a rare and haunting music in these names. They will bring you a lost music, a lost world, and imperishable beauty. You will dwell with them, till you love Deirdre as did the sons of Usna, and would die for her, or live to see her starry eyes; till you look longingly upon the Grainne of your dreams, and cry as Diarmid did, when he asked her, as death menaced them, if even yet she...