Taken from The Book of Fairy Poetry, published in 1920:

“Over the hills and far away”–

That is the tune I heard one day,

When heather-drowsy I lay and listened

And watched where the stealthy sea-tide glistened.

Beside me there on the Hills of Ruel

An old man stooped and gathered fuel–

And I asked him this: if his son were dead,

As the folk in Glendaruel all said,

How could he still believe that never

Duncan had crossed the shadowy river?

Forth from his breast the old man drew

A lute that once on a rowan tree grew;

And speaking now words, began to play

“Over the hills and far away.”

“But how do you know,” I said, thereafter,

“That Duncan has heard the fairy-laughter?

How do you know he has followed the cruel

Honey-sweet folk of the Hills of Ruel?”

“How do I know?” the old man said,

“Sure I knew well my boy’s not dead,

For late on the morrow they hid him, there

I saw him alow on the moor close by,

I watched him low on the hillside lie,

An’ I heard him laughin’ wild up there,

An’ talk, talk, talkin’ beneath his hair–

For down his face a long hair lay

But I saw it was cold and ashen-gray,

Ay, laughin’ and talkin’ wild he was,

An’ that to a Shadow out on the grass,

A Shadow that made my blood go chill,

For, never its like have I seen on the hill.

An’ the moon came up, and the stars grew white,

An’ the hills grew black in the bloom o’ the night.

An’ I watched till the death-star sank in the moon,

An’ the moonmaid fled with her moonwhite shoon,

Then the Shadow that was on the moorside there

Rose up and shook its shadowy hair;

And Duncan he laughed no more, but grey

As the rainy dust of a rainy day,

Went over the hills and far away.”
” Over the hills and far away”–

That is the tune I heard one day.

O that I too might hear the cruel

Honey-sweet fold of the Hills of Ruel.

NOTE:  Fiona Macleod was the alter ego of writer William Sharp (1855-1905)