University of Virginia Library

ELFLAND:

A FAIRY INTERMEZZO.

• Peter . . . . . . A mortal.
• Queen Mab. . .A fairy
• Puck . . . .A fairy
• Candy . . . .A fairy
• Zephyr . . . .A fairy
• Thistledown . . .A fairy
• Echo . . . . . .A maiden.

Scene I.

A woodland dell.
Enter Peter meditatively.
Peter
A stoup of wine is good for many things:
It ravishes the heart of ruined kings
From dumb despair, redeems the yokel wretch
From dreams of scarlet bean and purple vetch,
Frees each man from his own fore-destined star,
Excites to love—and sleep, if love be far.
What matters love? To wile a tedious day
'Tis well devised, but if a man should say
'Tis more than that, why he and I must part.
They rave who rage of death and broken heart;
To no inclemencies doth Love incline,
And if he did—Heigh ho! a stoup of wine!...
How dizzily in dots the sunlight dances!
It fills the mazy brain with sleepy fancies.
And Philomel is not herself: her song
Is routed by its own rebellious throng.
Heavens! what a clamour. Peace! the bird is mad;
Such rupture of one's reasoning's too bad.
But here's a space, a bank not over steep,
I'll rest a moment, muse, it may be, sleep. (Reclines and presently sleeps.)
(Bugle within, and sound of the evening breeze. Down a blue forest glade, and swiftly borne in mid-air like a many-coloured cloud, comes a train of woodland elves. Queen Mab alights in the centre of the mossy hollow.)


Q. Mab.
In this moss-bespangled place
Let us rest a moment's space.

All.
Let us rest!

Mab.
For the sun, descending slow,
Now in calm and crimson glow
Brightens o'er the boundless west;
And closing eyes of weary devils
Wakes us unto moonlight revels.

All.
Moonlight revels, revels!

Echo.
Revels!

Mab.
But ere we begin the sport
Must we call our elfin court;
For the world would finely go
Did we e'er forget to deal
Fairy justice on the slow
Sense of mortals, and by playing
Pranks upon them make them feel
That the world is past their weighing:
That the meadow's not all mowing,
Nor the harvest as the hoeing;
That the sheep is more than shearing,
And the salmon than the spearing;
That the beast's not made for basting,
Nor the tongue for nought but tasting;
That the hive's not only honey,
Nor the only magic money;
That man's trade means not mistrusting;
That fair love lies not in lusting;
And, though grievous 'tis agreeing,
Sometimes truth transcendeth seeing;
That there's something in the air
Subtler than they e'er suspect,
Which, e'en where they were aware,
Were too dainty to detect.
Business first, then, and thereafter
Jolly leisure and loud laughter.

All.
And loud laughter, laughter!

Echo.
After!

Mab.
Hail, then! from your airy nooks
Underneath this leafy dome,
Elfin fairies, lightly come.
Leave your laughter-loving looks
For a moment, and endue
Graver bearing, as it brooks
Loyal-earnest fays to do.
Come! from overhead and under-
Foot, come swiftly footing it:
From the caverns of the thunder,
And the lean ant-lion's pit:
Come from where ye lazily
With grotesque grimacery
Swing in angles of the beech-boughs,
Or, like rare and dainty lord
Lady-friended on the sward,
Each politely unto each bows.
Come from every chink and cranny
Of grey bark and mossy cover,
Where ye teaze the long uncanny
Centipedes, and o'er them hover,
Filling them with dreadful anguish,
And foreboding of a beak!
Or from where ye lie and languish
Love beneath a leafy tent
Of white cyclamen, and seek
To commingle in mute glances
Fairy founts of wonderment.
Or with little limber lances,
Each the bristle of a boar,
And shrill horns of trumpet-moss,
Through the ancient woodlands hoar
Hunt the terrible and cross-
Grained stag-beetle till he roar
‘Mercy,’ for his antlers bright
Trophies are of valiant fight.
Come, then, over fern and bracken,
With swift pace: slow not nor slacken:
Down the sunbeam's line of splendour
Let your airy figures slender
Quickly slide. Let gentle Zephyr
Bear you as the winged heifer
Bore Europa....

Zephyr
(hiding himself).
Never! never!

Mab.
Come, our court waits; half a minute,
Sees our subjects subject in it.

(Elves come trooping in from all sides, and form a fairy ring round their queen.)
Mab
(seating herself).
This toadstool shall the seat of justice be;
And, first, if any of our subjects see
Cause of complaint against another ....

Candy.
Hear, Lady Queen, my huge half-brother,
Master Puck,'s been plaguing me,
And in the most outrageous fashion.

Puck.
Ho! little Candy's in a passion.

Mab.
Now, Puck, what's this, unruly man?

Puck.
Let him unfold it; he began.

Candy.
O mischief! Hear me, Lady Queen.
It was two minutes since, I think,
That I was wandering on the green,
When there a pretty maiden-pink
I did espy,
And clambering up right joyfully,
Upon its flat and level disk,
As fairies wont, began to frisk
And frolic; for, as mortals say,
The white dots on that dainty sweet
Carpet are prints of elfin feet.
Then Master Puck, passing that way,
Espied me, and—for, as you know,
Just in the midst of every flower
Of maiden-pink, where'er it blow,
There is a dark and narrow bower
Too deep for any sprite to view ....

Puck.
At least for one so small as you!

Candy.
He, Master Puck—of whom I talk—
Espying, shook the slender stalk,
That, in my horror and great fear,
My knees to tremble did begin ....

A voice.
And in he slipped!

All.
He sliddered in!

Echo.
In!

(General laughter and merriment.)
Mab.
Silence, I pray. Proceed, small elf.

Candy.
There's not much further to relate.
The pretty flower beneath my weight
Bent, and I boded in despair
That on my head I must be hurled;
But, sticking fast, in sheer mid-air,
Quite upside-down I saw the world.

All.
O ecstatic fancy!

Echo.
Fancy!

Mab.
Peace, profitless imps. This tale of his
Requires some proof. Call witnesses. (Witness appears.)

What is your name?—We know it well,
But for our courtly forms' sake tell
It us once more.

Thistledown.
'Tis Thistledown.

Mab.
What saw you, Master Thistledown?

This.
Now by the silver moon I swear,
That soon shall cleave the midnight air,
I saw a quaint and quirky scene.
As I was gliding o'er the green,
Driving in front a filmy sphere
Of that white down whose name I bear,
Lo! right afront, a flush of red
Upon the moss, and overhead
A cry of one in anguish pent.
Uplooking, in astonishment
I saw the sky one vast pink curtain,
And in the midst of it a certain
Not wholly unfamiliar feature,
Scarlet, the boss of that huge shield—
Tête sanguine on a purpure field.
'Twas Candy, said I, I'm your creature,
Slave, servant, minister, and man;
So helped him down, and hither ran.

Mab.
Puck, to this story what say you?

Puck.
In substance, I confess, 'tis true.

Mab
(solemnly).
Roundfaced scoundrel, with the sly
Smile and dark familiar eye,
Though I know thou'rt not in earnest,
Since all things to fun thou turnest,
Yet I warn thee such rude play
Ill besuits a loyal fay;
Therefore, lest condign displeasure
Visit thee with loss of leisure,
Leave these wayward habits scrapish,
End these wanton antics apish.

Echo.
Pish!

Mab.
What more awaits our royal grant?
In all the worlds that fairies haunt,
Not only on high moor or fen,
But in the stuffy brains of men,
Has aught been done amiss this day?
Has any housewife hoped to stay
Chimney soot from tumbling in
By counsel ta'en of kith or kin?
Has any farmer heaped his pride
On princely beast that has not died?
Has speculator made a hit,
Sleek-crediting his own sole wit?
Has any villain gone his way
Rejoicing that the night was dark,
And not learned ere the early lark
How much apiece stout handcuffs weigh?
Has any thought he understood
The world, and could do what he would,
And not been so fashed ere the morn
He wished himself had ne'er been born?
If any such mishap there be
Let it be signified to me.
(Enter 1st Wish.)
Who is this pallid eager elf?

1 Wish.
My name, great lady, is Love of Pelf.
I come of that exhaustless race
That in men's brains doth breed apace
More million-fold than ocean's fishes—
The countless tribe of mortal wishes.

Mab.
I know you well; what is your plaint?

1 Wish.
Ah, sovereign queen, from this restraint
Release me; for now ten long years
I suffer hateful prisonment
Within a miser's skull, fast pent
From all my fellow hopes and fears
In lonely greed of gain. Day-long
I chafe: no other fancies throng
That dismal vacant tenement,
But what from sheer ennui I paint
Upon its white unfurnished walls;
And brief the respite that befalls
When sleep nods from my master's nape
The signal of my glad escape.

Mab.
We know your tribe: 'tis yours to sting
Man from his brutish indolence
By fancied pleasures of the sense.
You teeming airy sprites, that wing
Your way about his dwelling house,
By cunning quaint devices rouse
Him ever from his former self,
And forward on the fancied pelf
With eager blind desire he rushes,
And finds it clay within his clutches.
So slowly learns the boorish clown,
By pointed sharp experience shown,
What is and is not; and may die
As wise, that is to say, well nigh,
As we are born. And each fond sprite
That's hatched as Wish in any wight
May never end his long career,
But like the bee that, flitting here
And there, makes trial of each flower,
Must flit from man to man till all
Have felt the magic of his power,
And yet have freed them from his thrall;
Then, having circled mortal toil,
He leaves the hated earthly coil
And enters into regions airy,
Becoming one of us—a fairy.
Say, elfin, has this miser then
Never yet come to wiser ken.

1 Wish.
He scrapes, scrapes, as the sinner sinned,
Aimlessly, endlessly, without tire.
I showed him wealth of either Ind,
He opened wider mouthed desire.
I am his thrice ill-fated slave—
Since he is mine—and till the grave
Holds him there is no hope for me.

Mab.
This case is past recovery.
I'll give you quittance, go and find
New lodging in another mind.

1 Wish.
The wretch will die without my help,
Like motherless unweaned whelp.

Mab.
Nought can make such an one live, so
'Tis fair farewell to let him go. (Enter 2nd Wish.)

Here comes a brother of your race.

2 Wish.
True, but the kinship's hard to trace.
I am an essence light as air,
Impalpable, men call me Prayer:
I dwell among them when the morn
Falls on each waking face forlorn,
At even, when the breeze is heard
In lofty trees, their hearts are stirred
By me to high imaginings
Of beautiful and holy things,
Which hold them as men in a dream,
Who, walking, to themselves scarce seem
To touch the ground whereon they tread.
That spirit whereto mine is wed
Is of a peaceful lonely nun.
Her hands are helpful on the ways,
Her heart, worldweary, ever prays
To pass and be a little one,
A star not far from God's high throne.
Grant, gracious lady, this may be.

Mab.
Such power I have not, yet I see
The end is not far distant. Stay
And watch with her another day.
Thy work builds up the world and gives
Substance and strength to mortal lives.
Who comes there now? Another one?

3 Wish.
I crave for justice to be done.

Mab.
What is your story.

3 Wish.
I'll relate.
'Tis of a simple maid, sedate,
From homely duties of the farm
And household round of quiet charm
Rudely decoyed, and sad her fate.
For often when the days were warm
He came, her lover, and at eve,
When quiet sheep their slumbers leave
And once again begin to browse,
Would find her at the milking pail
Among her dun and dappled cows;
And there upon the fragrant gale
Would breathe forth honey-sweetened vows.
And she was coy, yet simple too,
And loved him with a love so true
She could not love him falsely. So
No sooner saw he this intent
Than he deserted her to go
In search of other merriment;
And she, poor wight, left broken-hearted,
From all her happy life is parted;
Yet true in her true heart remains,
And when I whisper through her pains,
Revenge! bids me behind her back.

All.
Ah! might we stretch him on the rack!

Mab.
She who is wronged forgives, but we
Who are not wronged cannot forgive:
Such faithlessness while fairies live
Un-fairy-punished shall not be.
Whither away the wretch went he?

3 Wish.
Not far from here I saw him pass,
And fall asleep amid the grass.

All.
Asleep amid the grass!

Echo.
The ass!

Mab
(angrily).
What mocking Echo thus discerns
Sport in our solemn tones, and turns
Our every word to ridicule?
Have riddance of the brain-sick fool!
You, Puck, to gild your late disgrace,
Hie after her in earnest chase,
And bring her breathless to this place
To sit on penitential stool.

(Exit Puck, and re-enter after an interval, breathless, with a fair white nymph his prisoner.)
Mab.
Your punishment is quickly spoke (to Echo).
(To all.)

Within the hollow of an oak,
With age and winter gnarled and wizened,
This mocking maid shall be imprisoned.
Go, some of you, and with a chaunt
Disturb the white owl from his haunt;
Rake out the dead leaves of last year,
And line the den with lichens sere,
Then quickly put her in and close
The entrance with a wall of moss,
And braid it carefully across
With tough woodbine and briar rose.
There shall she stay befitting time,
Forgetful of her wanton chime.
(Exeunt Puck and others with reluctant Echo.
Now to behold this base-born wight,
Where is he? Hist! and bring a light.
A glowworm in a lucid bell
Of white bindweed will serve us well.
Hang it upon a hair, and swing
It as the priests the censer fling.
(They come upon a body in the grass.)
Lo!

All.
Oh, Oh!

Mab.
Hush! lest he hear. He moves. Away!

All.
Away!

(They vanish on the nightwind down a beechen alley. Peter sits up, rubs his eyes, and presently falls asleep again.)

Scene II.

The same. Midnight.
(The rising moon is seen through the trees.)
Queen Mab,
followed by the other Fairies, one after one, alights out of the night.
Hist! fairies all, the silver queen
Of our devotion now is seen
With tender glances on the green
Of maiden majesty.
Befits us then in choral ring
All wayward thoughts away to fling,
And loudly musically sing
Our heartfelt fealty.

Chorus.

Chorus.

Echo.
No!

(General laughter.)
Mab.
Once more this vagrant Echo mocks
Our voice, and shakes her laughter-locks
Contemptuous of the prison door;
Haste, Puck, and hale her here once more.

(Exit Puck. After an interval re-enters with Echo.)
Puck.
I found her mossy prison thrown
Upon the sward, and Echo flown.
Thrice loudly on her did I call,
And heard her by a ruined wall
Make faint reply; but when I came,
Our Lady Moon, in argent flame,
Passed by that way with all her suite;
I saw the fanciful white feet
Of all the maids that hold her train,
And lost my nymph. Like jewelled rain
A cloud of fireflies onward swept:
Upon the back of one I leapt
And bent its dance towards a dell
Among the woods which I know well;—
There in a huge and hollow stone
She oft will dwell whole days alone;—
And hardly had I found a place
Wherein to hide a moment's space,
When in, without doubt or demur,
She stept, and was my prisoner.

Mab.
My elves, what punishment condign
Shall we inflict?—a fairy fine
Of all her changeling properties,
Her mask and tricksy mimicries,
Her sandals swift and magic hood
Invisible? Think ye this would
Be too severe upon the sprite?

Puck.
Forget we not that other wight—
That mortal who of love makes sport,
And waits the sentence of our court.

Mab.
'Tis well. The maiden shall not lose
Her properties, provide she use
Them in our service for the just
Chastisement of that faithless dust.
He, jilting a true mortal maid,
Shall love a fickle mocking shade;
And jeering at heart-broken bliss
Shall break the little heart that's his.
(They move to the side of the sleeping man.)
Here, where he slumbers in the grass,
Beside his feet let stand the lass.
See how the dew has drenched his hair:
Doubtless his dreams are strange and rare.
See, on his forehead stand bright beads:
Doubtless the moon a fever breeds
Among his limbs. Soon will he wake:
Over his eyes love-cobwebs shake.
Stand all around, light elfin crew,
With censer lamps in order due,
And after me this song ensue,
Love-mystery to make.

Mab and Chorus.

Mab.
Haste now, the wight begins to wake;
Already doth the dim dawn break,
With fitful breathings of the breeze;
A glimmer strikes about the trees,
The beechen boles grow large and white;
Haste, while the morning yet is night;
Our work, all we can do, is done;
Haste, ere the rising of the sun;
Haste, ere the morning is full day;
Haste, fairies all, away, away!

(They vanish.)
Peter
(sitting up and stretching himself.)
O ay! 'tis cold. I dreamt.
(Sees Echo.)
But Gods above!
What's this? No dream: the dreamlass of my love! (To Echo.)

Look not so cold; see, I am wholly thine.
Look not so cold; I am not drunk with wine,
But love, true love. O how thou art so fair
As never mortal maid! The silver moon
Amid my dreams put off her starry shoon
To dwell amid thy hair, an aureole
Of unimagined brightness—like a bowl
Of sparkling wine when summer dries the soul.
O maiden, now the moonlight pales away
Thou art alone in beauty. Grant me, say,
Say thou wilt grant me but the single bliss
Of one complete explorative close kiss.
Yet 'twould not be enough, divinest elf,
But thou must render me thy whole sweet self.
(Echo moves backward.
Nay! be not angry. Let me touch thy hand —
How fickle is the light about the land.
She seems to fade. This doubtful morning haze
And glimmering white dawn begins to daze
My proper sight.
But I will follow thee,
And in my love-devotion shalt thou see
My joy to brave all danger. Dearest one,
Let us halt here a space. How now? she's gone.
And now? why now? But reason this outreaches:
A crowd of maids!—or are they only beeches?
No, here thou art: all danger is surpast.
My love, my lily-fair, ah, now at last
What longing arms I fling around thy neck —
(Embraces a beechen stem.)
Oh!

Echo
(out of the distance).
Echo.