The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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The Haunted Glen.
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
The Haunted Glen.
- Lu, a Scottish prince, carried off by the Fairies, and afterwards chosen their king.
- Knight.
- Spirit.
- Lula, a princess living in concealment.
- Philany, Fairy.
- Dew, Fairy.
- Snowflake, Fairy.
- Foambell, Fairy.
- Rue, Fairy.
- Mothe, Fairy.
- Gossamer, Fairy.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Scene I.
—A dell, by moonlight, with a distant view behind.A fairy enters, winding swiftly among the trees. Voice above.
Voice.
Fairy, fairy, whither away?
Fairy.
Come down and see;
It fits not thee
To hide in the bud of the chestnut tree,
And scare with yelp and eldritch croon
The spirits that pass by the light of the moon.
Voice.
I heard a sound come through the wood,
I feared it came from flesh and blood;
But I'll be with thee for evil or good.
Spirit enters.
Now, fairy, tell me whither away,
For I have much to thee to say,
And much to do ere the break of day.
Fairy.
For I have much to thee to say,
And much to do ere the break of day.
I know thee not—I cannot tell
Whether thou art from heaven or hell.
In Scottish glen, since the days of old,
I have watched the hamlet and the fold;
Long have I sojourned by mountain and dale;
I have sailed on the moonbeam, and rode on the gale
For a thousand years, and a thousand more,
But, spirit, I never saw thee before.
Spirit.
Here am I sent a while to dwell;
Tell me thy nature, and mine I'll tell.
Fairy.
This form was made when the rose first grew,
Of an odour dissolved in the falling dew,
When first from the heaven it 'gan to distil
Above the top of the highest hill:
And if I may judge, from the moment I came,
There's a germ of the rainbow in my frame;
For my being grew, I remember well,
When first the bow on the rose-bud fell;
And the very first scene that met my view,
Was its pale blossom, tinged anew
With stripes of the green, the red, and the blue.
But I am a spirit of joy and love,
For the breath that formed me was from above.
Spirit.
Then, gladsome spirit, list to me,
For we may meet by tower and tree:
When first the fires of vengeance and wrath
Were kindled in a world beneath,
They from their boundaries burst on high,
And flashed into the middle sky;
From these a thin blue vapour came,
Something between a smoke and flame,
And it journeyed on through the firmament,
Till with a sun-beam it was blent:
Of that I was framed, and in my mood
There is something evil and something good.
But I have been busy since I came here;
There's a comely corse lies stretched near—
Within yon wood of alders grey
There was murder done at the close of day.
Oh, I ne'er saw so lovely a sight,
As a maiden's corse in the pale moonlight!
Fairy.
Ah! spirit of stern and ill intent,
The land may rue that thou wast sent.
Spirit.
'Tis true, I love to seek and see
The evils of humanity,
And the woes and the plagues of the human lot!
But I cannot hurt where sin is not.
Come, trifling fay, I'll consort you,
The relics of mortal beauty to view;
The writhed limb you there may see,
And the stripes of blood upon the lea;
Half open is her still blue eye;
Her face is turned unto the sky;
The shadows sleep on her bosom bare,
And the dew-weft on her raven hair;
And never again shall spirit see
Such picture of sorrow and sanctity!
Fairy.
Get thee away,
Thou elfin gray,
Thou art not fit with fairies to stay!
For me, I am sent by the still moonlight,
Each floweret's bosom to bedight,
For the fairies revel here o'er-night.
The time draws on when Lu of Kyle,
Who in Fairyland had sojourned a while,
Must be crowned, by a virgin's hand,
The king of the fairies of fair Scotland:
And fairies have ridden, and fairies have run,
From the evening set till the morning sun,
The first of mortal maidens to find,
Fairest of body, and purest of mind;
For she must be chaste as the snow-drop at noon,
Stately as cherubim, mild as the moon,
Sweet as the rose-bud, and fresh as the dew,
That sets the crown on the head of King Lu.
Spirit.
If right I judge, you will only miss
Your aim in travelling far for this;
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The fairest of human form and name;
But if I get sway of this woodland scene,
This matchless maid shall be, ere e'en,
What many a maiden before has been.
Fairy.
Get thee away,
Thou elfin gray,
Thou art not fit with fairies to stay!
The fairies of Scotia are mild as the even,
Jocund and blithe as the laverock in heaven;
Tender to childhood, gentle to age,
Pesterous to priest, and freakish to sage;
But whatever they do, or wherever they go,
They grieve aye for human failings and woe.
Get thee away, over brake, over thorn;
Woo thy dead corse till the break of the morn,
For I hear the sound of the fairies' horn.
[Spirit vanishes.
Scene continues.
Endless trains of Fairies, clothed in green, and riding on white steeds, are seen in the distance.
Song within.
Sweet is the mountain breeze of night,
To fairy troopers blithely riding,
Over holt, and holm, and height,
Through the links of greenwood gliding.
To fairy troopers blithely riding,
Over holt, and holm, and height,
Through the links of greenwood gliding.
CHORUS.
Ara Lu! Ora Lu!Who shall man and fairy sever?
Ara Lu! Ora Lu!
They are knit, and knit for ever.
Lu is prince of Fairyland,
Vales of light and fairy fountains;
Lu shall wield the regal wand
Over Scotia's heathy mountains.
Vales of light and fairy fountains;
Lu shall wield the regal wand
Over Scotia's heathy mountains.
CHORUS.
Ara Lu! Ora Lu! &c.First Fairy.
Our names, prince—our new names!
Lu.
Come hither, beauteous trifle.
Thy name be hence Philany, and thy charge
The nestlings of the birds, that sing at eve
And ere the morning sun. And thou, pale blossom,
Thy name is Snowflake; and thy envied charge,
The walks and couch of virgin purity:
Oh guard that well! If e'er thou mark'st the eye
Beaming with more than earthly lustre, then
Thy sickening opiates use, to dim the ray
Too bright for man to look on. In the night,
By maiden's bosom watch; and if she dream,
Lay thy cold hand upon her youthful breast;
Hang on her waving locks by day, and watch
Her sweet and mellow breath; and as it heaves
And rocks thee to and fro, thou shalt discern
The slightest workings of the soul within;
The rest thy wisdom and thy care direct.
Thy name be hence Philany, and thy charge
The nestlings of the birds, that sing at eve
And ere the morning sun. And thou, pale blossom,
Thy name is Snowflake; and thy envied charge,
The walks and couch of virgin purity:
Oh guard that well! If e'er thou mark'st the eye
Beaming with more than earthly lustre, then
Thy sickening opiates use, to dim the ray
Too bright for man to look on. In the night,
By maiden's bosom watch; and if she dream,
Lay thy cold hand upon her youthful breast;
Hang on her waving locks by day, and watch
Her sweet and mellow breath; and as it heaves
And rocks thee to and fro, thou shalt discern
The slightest workings of the soul within;
The rest thy wisdom and thy care direct.
Kiss me, thou little sweet and humid thing,
Bright as the orient—thy name be Dew;
Thy care, the wild flowers of the hill and dale,
To pearl the rose and weave the heavenly bow.
And thou, her sister, guard the rivulets,
And silver pools, where little fishes dwell,
And sport them in the sun: thou hast a flock
Full wayward and exposed—so be thy care:
Thy name is Foambell, brook thou well the name.
And thine is Rue—thy charge, declining life.
And thou, that hast a pathos in thy looks
Bespeaking mould of tenderness and love,
Be guardian thou of playful infancy.
Watch o'er the imps; and when the comely boy
Nears to the precipice, where blossoms wave,
Or to the pool, where green inverted hills,
And trees, and shrubs betray—then flutter thou
Close by his foot like gilded butterfly,
To lure the rosy lubber from the snare
Of adders young, and from the slow-worm's den.
Thy name is Mothe; the joy of doing good
Be thy reward.
Bright as the orient—thy name be Dew;
Thy care, the wild flowers of the hill and dale,
To pearl the rose and weave the heavenly bow.
And thou, her sister, guard the rivulets,
And silver pools, where little fishes dwell,
And sport them in the sun: thou hast a flock
Full wayward and exposed—so be thy care:
Thy name is Foambell, brook thou well the name.
And thine is Rue—thy charge, declining life.
And thou, that hast a pathos in thy looks
Bespeaking mould of tenderness and love,
Be guardian thou of playful infancy.
Watch o'er the imps; and when the comely boy
Nears to the precipice, where blossoms wave,
Or to the pool, where green inverted hills,
And trees, and shrubs betray—then flutter thou
Close by his foot like gilded butterfly,
To lure the rosy lubber from the snare
Of adders young, and from the slow-worm's den.
Thy name is Mothe; the joy of doing good
Be thy reward.
Thou downy dancing thing,
Fond as the nestling, playful as the fawn,
Thy dwelling be the mountain, and thy task
To guard the young deer and the leveret
And tender lamb—thy name is Gossamer.
Embrace me all, then bound you on your way,
To sport and revel till the dawn of day.
[He embraces them all.
Fond as the nestling, playful as the fawn,
Thy dwelling be the mountain, and thy task
To guard the young deer and the leveret
And tender lamb—thy name is Gossamer.
Embrace me all, then bound you on your way,
To sport and revel till the dawn of day.
Sweet gladsome beings! sweet you are, and kind,
And well I love you. But my mortal frame
Is not so subtilized and pure, but that
I feel in your communion something short
Of true felicity. In all your rounds,
And wanderings wild, search for the mortal maid
Of purity and beauty so refined
That spirits may consort with; and no stain
Of human love or longing intervene.
And well I love you. But my mortal frame
Is not so subtilized and pure, but that
I feel in your communion something short
Of true felicity. In all your rounds,
And wanderings wild, search for the mortal maid
Of purity and beauty so refined
That spirits may consort with; and no stain
Of human love or longing intervene.
Dew.
Prince, here I met with a spirit stern,
Who said that by this forest dern,
There dwells the fairest, loveliest dame,
That ever wore the human frame;
But wicked men and fiends below
Have both combined to work her woe.
Prince, watch this glen, and if you see
A knight of comely courtesy
Lead a fair maiden to the wood,
Of lady mien, and mournful mood;
Be sure that knight's intent is ill,
For the blood is on his corslet still!
Lu.
Hie you away by valley and brae,
Attend to your tasks by night and by day,
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To tend your behests for right or for wrong;
And here will I watch till the rising sun,
For fear more guilty deeds be done.
The Fairies dance slowly round him in a circle, and sing.
The baby's rest shall be sweet and sure,
The maiden's slumber blest and pure;
The gray-haired sire shall rejoice in mind,
And look before and not behind.
The flowers shall blow, and the rainbow beam,
The fishes sport in the sunny stream;
Young Love and Peace shall go hand in hand,
And Sin and Sorrow flee the land;
The lamb beside the fox shall stray,
The kid and fawn round the martin play,
And the child shall dance by the adder's den,
Since spirits pure are conjoined with men.
The maiden's slumber blest and pure;
The gray-haired sire shall rejoice in mind,
And look before and not behind.
The flowers shall blow, and the rainbow beam,
The fishes sport in the sunny stream;
Young Love and Peace shall go hand in hand,
And Sin and Sorrow flee the land;
The lamb beside the fox shall stray,
The kid and fawn round the martin play,
And the child shall dance by the adder's den,
Since spirits pure are conjoined with men.
CHORUS.
Then hie away, fairies, hie away,Light over flower and tender spray,
Light over moonbeam and midnight dew,
Our blithesome gambols to renew.
Scene II.
—A wood.Enter Lu.
Lu.
Another day is past, and it has been
To me a day of such delight, and pain,
And new sensations mingled, as I never
Deemed consonant with being. I have seen
The peerless maid of this romantic glen;
Have watched her every motion, word, and look,
With lover, and alone. Such beauty, truth,
And purity of soul, I did not ween
This sinful world contained! I love her so,
That I would yield this incorporeal frame,
This state of mental energy, attained
By seven years' penance, and again assume
My former state of gross humanity,
Rather than lose that virgin's fellowship,
Her confidence, and love. I watched her steps,
Led by that treacherous, that decoying fiend,
That demon in the guise of man, and heard
His smooth deceitful tale. I took the form
Of redbreast, and I hopped upon the spray
Close to her cheek, and sung my plaintive note;
And she called me “sweet robin,” and I saw
A kindness in her looks. “Sir knight,” said she,
“List to that robin's note. Methinks he says,
‘Beware, young simple Lula.’” “On my faith,”
The knight replied, “'tis very like these words!”
“I wish I were that robin's mate,” said she,
“To fly away with him o'er many lands,
And live in innocence!” And then I sung
“Would that you were, sweet Lula.” Her blue eyes
Turned doubtfully up to the sky, when this
She heard sung by a bird; her lovely face
Was stamped with sweet amazement and deep thought.
To me a day of such delight, and pain,
And new sensations mingled, as I never
Deemed consonant with being. I have seen
The peerless maid of this romantic glen;
Have watched her every motion, word, and look,
With lover, and alone. Such beauty, truth,
And purity of soul, I did not ween
This sinful world contained! I love her so,
That I would yield this incorporeal frame,
This state of mental energy, attained
By seven years' penance, and again assume
My former state of gross humanity,
Rather than lose that virgin's fellowship,
Her confidence, and love. I watched her steps,
Led by that treacherous, that decoying fiend,
That demon in the guise of man, and heard
His smooth deceitful tale. I took the form
Of redbreast, and I hopped upon the spray
Close to her cheek, and sung my plaintive note;
And she called me “sweet robin,” and I saw
A kindness in her looks. “Sir knight,” said she,
“List to that robin's note. Methinks he says,
‘Beware, young simple Lula.’” “On my faith,”
The knight replied, “'tis very like these words!”
“I wish I were that robin's mate,” said she,
“To fly away with him o'er many lands,
And live in innocence!” And then I sung
“Would that you were, sweet Lula.” Her blue eyes
Turned doubtfully up to the sky, when this
She heard sung by a bird; her lovely face
Was stamped with sweet amazement and deep thought.
Then I became a coney, and I stole
From out the brake, and hitched around their seat,
Mounching the herbs, and raised up my long ears
As listening in dismay, and looked full wise,
Making my cloven lip and wiry beard
Move with grimace. Back to the thicket then
Amain I scudded, and as quick returned,
And cowered, and mounched the grass—she laughed at me,
And praised my antic tricks, but little weened
I was a fairy lover, and far less
A mortal prince rid of his mortal nature.
I must retire and take some other form,
For here my loved and beauteous Lula comes,
Led by the wretch that wooes her to her fate.
From out the brake, and hitched around their seat,
Mounching the herbs, and raised up my long ears
As listening in dismay, and looked full wise,
Making my cloven lip and wiry beard
Move with grimace. Back to the thicket then
Amain I scudded, and as quick returned,
And cowered, and mounched the grass—she laughed at me,
And praised my antic tricks, but little weened
I was a fairy lover, and far less
A mortal prince rid of his mortal nature.
I must retire and take some other form,
For here my loved and beauteous Lula comes,
Led by the wretch that wooes her to her fate.
[Exit.
Enter Lula and Knight.
Lula.
Where do you lead me, knight? I may not go
Farther into the glen: have you not heard
How it is haunted?
Knight.
Fear not, gentle Lula;
No spirit may do harm to innocence
And beauty such as thine. Come, let us stray
Deeper into this dell, and watch the rise
Of the full moon. See how her radiant verge
Streams through the broken cliffs of yon far hill,
Like fragments of a moon. The queen of heaven
Smiles from her lattice. Has it not a cast
Of sweet sublimity that scene, my Lula?
Lula.
It has—oh, I could list and look for ever,
And muse upon these goings on of nature!
Knight.
'Tis a fit scene for love. Will you not hear
The man that loves you to distraction, breathe
The vows of constancy and endless love?
Lula.
Nay, then I'm gone; I loathe the very name
Of love, and every baneful consequence
That follows in its train. Why talk to me
Of love, when Emma's lost? Emma, who loved you
With fondness never equalled! Tell me, knight,
Where think you Emma's gone?
Knight.
How can I know?
Woe's me, poor Emma! She is fled, I fear,
With false deceiver, or some base-born hind—
Let us not think of her.
Lula.
Yet you grow pale
At mention of her name—I honour you
For this. 'Tis true she loved you! What is here?
There's blood upon your basnet, knight! Your hilt
And arm are stained with it. What blood is this?
Knight.
It is the blood of my white steed, which I
Slew in a rage, that now I sore repent.
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Your steed is whole and standing in his stall;
I saw him; ask your groom.
Knight.
It was my hound,
My milk-white hound—Woe's me that she is slain!
Lula.
Your hound is well, and hunting through the wood.
Knight.
It was a deer that held the hound at bay,
'Twas that I meant.
Lula.
You have not slain a deer
For months and days, nor is it hunting time;
You rave, or do not think of what you say.
But here's our gentle robin come again,
To cheer us with his homely note. O knight,
Let us return. Hear what the robin sings!
Knight.
Come let us dive into the dell, my Lula,
And see the moon lie bathing in the stream,
Deep in the centre of the wood; it is
A scene will charm you. Let us go, my love.
Lula.
I never farther leave my home at eve;
That glen is dangerous, for spirits there
Hold nightly rendezvous. Poor Emma loved
Thoughtful to stray in it—now, where, alas!
Is simple Emma? Knight, though I nought fear,
Strange fancies crowd on me. Ah, might it be
As I now deem! Do guardian spirits ever
Take form of beast or bird?
Knight.
So sages say;
But wherefore ask? Come, let us go, my love,
Down that sweet winding glen. You cannot fear
To walk that space with me? I know the scene
Hath that in't will delight you. You shall see
The moonbeam streaming o'er the shadowy hill,
To kiss the winding wave, and deck the trees
In golden foliage. You shall see the shades
Of hills, and trees, and rocks, lie stretched afar,
Bathing in liquid crystal, till you lose
Sense which is the true world, the stars and moon,
And which the elemental imagery.
Oh! I beseech you let us go, sweet Lula.
Lula.
Well, I will go, for when I hear you talk
Of nature, I am charmed—'tis so unlike
The converse of these simple cottagers;
But talk of that alone, and not of love,
Else I'll not list, nor answer deign to you.
Why am I plagued with language which I loathe? [Going, stops short.
Protect my senses, Heaven! Can it be!
Look at that bird, sir knight—is it not changed
In form and hue since last we looked at it?
Knight.
What is it?
Lula.
See! it grows and changes still;
Waylays and threatens us—I will not go
Farther upon that path for will of man.
Knight.
Then my resolve is fixed—Dame, you shall go,
Return home as you may.
Lula.
What do you mean?
Knight.
Only that you shall go into that glen,
Far as I list to lead you: if you prove
As coy when you return, my well-earned skill
In woman I give up. Nay, struggle not,
Nor pule, nor cry, for neither shall avail!
Lu enters, and by a wave of his hand lays the Knight flat on his back.
Lula.
O comely stranger, spare my helpless youth!
Protect and guard me! here I throw myself
Into your arms.
Lu.
And from all brutal force
And insult shall these arms protect thee, maid.
Lula.
Yes, I can trust you, there is in your look
And your embrace, that chastened dignity,
That calm pure sympathy, which I have longed
And pined so much to look on. Whence are you?
From what blest land or kingdom came you thus
To my deliverance?
Lu.
These lands were mine,
Far as the soaring eagle's eye can reach;
But I resigned them for a dynasty
Wild and ethereal. Could you love me, Lula?
Lula.
I know not: If your touch and looks were aye
As pure as they are now—methinks I could.
Lu.
Then I'll be aught for thee—I'll be again
The thing I was, that I may be caressed
And loved by you; though pain, and woe, and death,
And spirits' vengeance, on the issue wait.
Come with me, gentle maid; and while I lead you
Home to your cot, I will a tale unfold
Shall make your ears to tingle, and your thoughts
Wander into delirious mystery.
[Exeunt Lu and Lula. The Knight rises.
Knight.
What can this mean? How was I struck to earth,
And chained as by some spell? Curse on the stripling!
Who can he be, or whither did he come,
To brave me in this guise? 'Tis like a dream;
And yet I saw them go, arm linked in arm,
While I not moved a finger or a limb.
And chained as by some spell? Curse on the stripling!
Who can he be, or whither did he come,
To brave me in this guise? 'Tis like a dream;
And yet I saw them go, arm linked in arm,
While I not moved a finger or a limb.
Might I believe that I some thing have seen
Not of this world, that with one wave of 's hand,
Could strike me motionless, then do I strive
In vain for the possession of the maid.
But here I swear above this craven sword,
That for the first time slept within its sheath
Beneath the eye of insult, not to brook
Life without Lula. Never shall I see
Another filch that precious morsel, placed
Thus in my reach! Arm, thou wast never wont
To lie in dull and nerveless apathy
When will called “Strike;” ah! couldst thou do it now
When the most delicate and luscious cup
That ever mocked Desire's pale parching lip
Was rudely dashed away? Blood and revenge
Be hence thy meed, or scornful Lula mine!
Not of this world, that with one wave of 's hand,
Could strike me motionless, then do I strive
In vain for the possession of the maid.
But here I swear above this craven sword,
That for the first time slept within its sheath
Beneath the eye of insult, not to brook
Life without Lula. Never shall I see
Another filch that precious morsel, placed
348
To lie in dull and nerveless apathy
When will called “Strike;” ah! couldst thou do it now
When the most delicate and luscious cup
That ever mocked Desire's pale parching lip
Was rudely dashed away? Blood and revenge
Be hence thy meed, or scornful Lula mine!
Scene III.
—The glen.—Twilight.Lu and Fairy meeting.
Lu.
Welcome my little Foambell, here:
How fare thy flocks by frith and meer,
By river, pool, and streamlet clear?
Foam.
O prince, my charge I yield again!
My little breast is rent with pain!
No happy thing on earth may be,
While ruthless man holds sovereignty.
I chose the sweetest stream that fell
From mountain glen, and moorland well,
Where happy, gay, and innocent,
My finny tribes were in thousands blent;
And I rejoiced and smiled to see
Each awkward beck and courtesy;
How downward turned each full set eye,
As I, their queen, went sailing by.
My little breast is rent with pain!
No happy thing on earth may be,
While ruthless man holds sovereignty.
I chose the sweetest stream that fell
From mountain glen, and moorland well,
Where happy, gay, and innocent,
My finny tribes were in thousands blent;
And I rejoiced and smiled to see
Each awkward beck and courtesy;
How downward turned each full set eye,
As I, their queen, went sailing by.
One day, I spied upon the strand,
A carl that waved a sounding wand
Of marvellous length, whom I did deem
Some earthly guardian of the stream;
But coming nigh I wept full sore
To see my people dragged ashore,
One after one, and two by two,
And welcomed forth with murderous blow;
While their dying throes rejoiced his sight,
For his ugly face had the grin of delight.
A carl that waved a sounding wand
Of marvellous length, whom I did deem
Some earthly guardian of the stream;
But coming nigh I wept full sore
To see my people dragged ashore,
One after one, and two by two,
And welcomed forth with murderous blow;
While their dying throes rejoiced his sight,
For his ugly face had the grin of delight.
This scene my feelings could not bear;
I tried to wile them from the snare;
The form of a fisherman I took,
And I angled before him in the brook;
But they wearied of my phantom fly,
And the carl he thrashed and waded nigh:
I could not scare them from his hook,
For I cast no shadow on the brook;
Though boardly my frame, as man's might be,
“The sun shone through my thin bodye.”
I wist not what to do or say,
For still the carl he plashed away;
And his rod, that stretched o'er half the flood,
It sounded through the air so loud,
That it made me start and pant for breath,
For I knew the sough was the sound of death.
No minute passed but one or more
Was dragged forth struggling to the shore;
I saw them flutter in wild affright,
And shiver and gasp in piteous plight;
Their silvery sides, that in the flood
Shone bright and pure, were striped with blood;
Yet no remorse did the carl feel,
But thrust them in his wicker creel.
I tried to wile them from the snare;
The form of a fisherman I took,
And I angled before him in the brook;
But they wearied of my phantom fly,
And the carl he thrashed and waded nigh:
I could not scare them from his hook,
For I cast no shadow on the brook;
Though boardly my frame, as man's might be,
“The sun shone through my thin bodye.”
I wist not what to do or say,
For still the carl he plashed away;
And his rod, that stretched o'er half the flood,
It sounded through the air so loud,
That it made me start and pant for breath,
For I knew the sough was the sound of death.
No minute passed but one or more
Was dragged forth struggling to the shore;
I saw them flutter in wild affright,
And shiver and gasp in piteous plight;
Their silvery sides, that in the flood
Shone bright and pure, were striped with blood;
Yet no remorse did the carl feel,
But thrust them in his wicker creel.
Then I bethought me of a plan,
Of turning pike instead of man;
And aye where his hook the angler threw
I chased away my harmless crew:
Oh! how astonished were the throng
When I came gaping them among!
Away they fled to ward the scathe,
Fast I pursued with threat of death.
Most gleesome sport I had the while,
But wondered at the carl's wile,
For o'er the ripple he swam his fly,
So sleek and so provokingly,
That scarcely could I myself restrain
From springing at that bait amain;
For, though by sage it be denied,
Nature and form are still allied.
Of turning pike instead of man;
And aye where his hook the angler threw
I chased away my harmless crew:
Oh! how astonished were the throng
When I came gaping them among!
Away they fled to ward the scathe,
Fast I pursued with threat of death.
Most gleesome sport I had the while,
But wondered at the carl's wile,
For o'er the ripple he swam his fly,
So sleek and so provokingly,
That scarcely could I myself restrain
From springing at that bait amain;
For, though by sage it be denied,
Nature and form are still allied.
Amazement marked the fisher's look,
Another fish he could not hook;
He changed his tackle, he changed his fly,
And blamed the colour of the sky;
But, baulked for once, he went away,
Cursing the fish and hateful day.
Another fish he could not hook;
He changed his tackle, he changed his fly,
And blamed the colour of the sky;
But, baulked for once, he went away,
Cursing the fish and hateful day.
Full six times twelve away he bore,
I saw him count them on the shore;
All reft of life withouten law,
To gorge a miscreant's ravenous maw.
Then sooth, while man has sway below,
My watery charge I must forego.
I saw him count them on the shore;
All reft of life withouten law,
To gorge a miscreant's ravenous maw.
Then sooth, while man has sway below,
My watery charge I must forego.
Lu.
But here comes slender Gossamer,
Like shred of silver through the air.—
What news, thou gentle, pitying child,
From mountain, glen, and pathless wild?
Gos.
Ah, woeful news! my heart's in pain!
All would be joy in my domain,
The kid and lamb would sport in peace,
The young deer dwell in happiness;
But man—remorseless, ravenous man,
Kills and devours; and stay who can!
The life-blood and the trembling limb
Of parting life are joy to him:
That rank devourer hence restrain,
Or take from me my charge again.
Lu.
Woe's me, that those we so much love,
Such troublers should of nature prove:
But here comes one whose placid face
Speaks better things of the human race.
Welcome, sweet Snowflake, back to me;
How thrives sweet virgin purity?
Snow.
Ah, Prince, decline the woeful theme!
Give it not thought—give it not name!
Else first restrain or quench the blood
Of man, the defacer of all good!
The maiden is pure without a stain,
And pure in mind would aye remain;
But man—I sicken at the thought
Of all the shame that he hath wrought;
There is no art—there is no wile
That may the maiden heart beguile,
And cloud for aye the joyous smile,
Which this destroyer scorns to prove—
This recreant in the paths of love.
Thousands to shame and ruin driven,
Debased on earth—debarred from heaven—
Of human forms and souls divine,
Yearly at Love's unholy shrine,
On bloated altar doomed to lie,
Unblest to weep, unwept to die.
Give it not thought—give it not name!
Else first restrain or quench the blood
Of man, the defacer of all good!
The maiden is pure without a stain,
And pure in mind would aye remain;
349
Of all the shame that he hath wrought;
There is no art—there is no wile
That may the maiden heart beguile,
And cloud for aye the joyous smile,
Which this destroyer scorns to prove—
This recreant in the paths of love.
Thousands to shame and ruin driven,
Debased on earth—debarred from heaven—
Of human forms and souls divine,
Yearly at Love's unholy shrine,
On bloated altar doomed to lie,
Unblest to weep, unwept to die.
Without regret, or wish t'atone,
He boasts his feats and urges on;
And when no other schemes remain
To give the virtuous bosom pain,
To beauty's walks he wends his way,
With shameless stare in open day,
To check the step, abash the eye,
And tint the cheek of modesty.
O prince! my charge I must disclaim,
While man's rude nature is the same.
He boasts his feats and urges on;
And when no other schemes remain
To give the virtuous bosom pain,
To beauty's walks he wends his way,
With shameless stare in open day,
To check the step, abash the eye,
And tint the cheek of modesty.
O prince! my charge I must disclaim,
While man's rude nature is the same.
And more; a baleful imp, I fear,
Is lately come to sojourn here;
A stranger spirit, bent on ill,
Whom I have watch'd o'er vale and hill:
His purposes we must gainsay,
Else shame may be ere break of day.
Yon cot I marked him prying round,
But scared him thence; and there I found
The loveliest maid of mortal race,
In dangerous and in helpless case.
A clown had crept her door within,
And left it open to the gin;
A dark knight stood her casement nigh,
With burning cheek, and greedy eye,
While the unweeting, simple maid,
Kneeled on the floor and inly prayed.
Her light locks o'er her shoulders swung,
Her night-robe round her waist was flung;
Her eyes were raised—her breast of snow
Heaved with devotion's grateful glow.
The speaking lip, the brow erect,
The movement on the polished neck,
The blooming cheek, the fervent mien,
Were all so comely, so serene,
The breeze of earth did ne'er embrace
Such pure angelic loveliness.
Is lately come to sojourn here;
A stranger spirit, bent on ill,
Whom I have watch'd o'er vale and hill:
His purposes we must gainsay,
Else shame may be ere break of day.
Yon cot I marked him prying round,
But scared him thence; and there I found
The loveliest maid of mortal race,
In dangerous and in helpless case.
A clown had crept her door within,
And left it open to the gin;
A dark knight stood her casement nigh,
With burning cheek, and greedy eye,
While the unweeting, simple maid,
Kneeled on the floor and inly prayed.
Her light locks o'er her shoulders swung,
Her night-robe round her waist was flung;
Her eyes were raised—her breast of snow
Heaved with devotion's grateful glow.
The speaking lip, the brow erect,
The movement on the polished neck,
The blooming cheek, the fervent mien,
Were all so comely, so serene,
The breeze of earth did ne'er embrace
Such pure angelic loveliness.
The peasant's rugged form I took,
And braved the blood-hound's surly look;
At me he flew with horrid bay:
I fled, provoked, and led the way
Straight to the base and wicked clown—
The ban-dog seized and pulled him down;
Aloud he cried, and fought for life,
And rough and bloody was the strife.
And braved the blood-hound's surly look;
At me he flew with horrid bay:
I fled, provoked, and led the way
Straight to the base and wicked clown—
The ban-dog seized and pulled him down;
Aloud he cried, and fought for life,
And rough and bloody was the strife.
Then in the maiden's form so light,
Forthwith I glided by the knight,
Who followed fast, and begged and prayed,
But still I flew along the glade;—
Just when his arms were stretched to press
My waist with hellish eagerness,
A quagmire deep I led him in,
And left him struggling to the chin.
Forthwith I glided by the knight,
Who followed fast, and begged and prayed,
But still I flew along the glade;—
Just when his arms were stretched to press
My waist with hellish eagerness,
A quagmire deep I led him in,
And left him struggling to the chin.
Thus far full deftly have I sped,
Protecting maidhood's guiltless bed;
But ah, if man, the lord below,
Continue still as he is now,
Alas! my prince, my toils will prove
Light balance in the scales of love.
Protecting maidhood's guiltless bed;
But ah, if man, the lord below,
Continue still as he is now,
Alas! my prince, my toils will prove
Light balance in the scales of love.
But who would strive?—Last night I spied
The loveliest flower on Leven side
In her bed-chamber laid to rest,
A sweet babe cradled on her breast.
Such fondness melted in her eye—
Affection's holiest purity,
When with her breast the elfin played,
His round cheek to that bosom laid,
That I was moved, and weened if bliss
Be found in life's imperfectness,
If pure affection's from above,—
If “Love is Heaven, and Heaven is Love,”
All love, all fondness is outdone
By mother's o'er her only son:
That glow is bright, its workings kind,
Calm, chastened, ardent, yet refined.
Then let me roam, as heretofore,
And think of guarding maids no more.
The loveliest flower on Leven side
In her bed-chamber laid to rest,
A sweet babe cradled on her breast.
Such fondness melted in her eye—
Affection's holiest purity,
When with her breast the elfin played,
His round cheek to that bosom laid,
That I was moved, and weened if bliss
Be found in life's imperfectness,
If pure affection's from above,—
If “Love is Heaven, and Heaven is Love,”
All love, all fondness is outdone
By mother's o'er her only son:
That glow is bright, its workings kind,
Calm, chastened, ardent, yet refined.
Then let me roam, as heretofore,
And think of guarding maids no more.
Song by Lu.
Never, gentle spirits, neverYield your cares of human kind!
Can you leave the lonely river,
From the moonlight valley sever,
All your guardian love resigned?
Thrown aside and scorned the giver?
Never, gentle spirits, never!
Chorus of Fairies.
Never till the dawn of day,Dawn of truth that shine shall ever,
Will we quit our polar way;
Over greenwood, glen, and brae,
Over tree,
Over lea,
Over fell and forest free,
Over rock, and over river,
Over cairn and cloud to quiver;
Never, gentle spirits, never!
Never!—Never!
Scene IV.
—A deep dell.Knight sitting disconsolate.
Knight.
Sure there's some power unseen, unmeet for man
To cope with, watches o'er that witching thing.
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Flat without motion; next to slough decoyed,
Bayed by a madman—by a blood-hound torn.
If I escape infection from the fangs
Of that outrageous monster, I shall never
Strive for possession of that maiden more,
Though my heart burn within me.
Spirit enters, and speaks and sings aside.
Spirit.
Then my sport will all be done:
Knight, before the rising sun,
Wet and weary, racked with pain,
You shall seek that maid again.
Sings.
Knight, before the rising sun,
Wet and weary, racked with pain,
You shall seek that maid again.
My love's blithe as the bird on the tree;
My love's bonnie, as bonnie can be;
Though she loves another far better than me,
Yet the dream wears kind in the morning.
My love's bonnie, as bonnie can be;
Though she loves another far better than me,
Yet the dream wears kind in the morning.
Then I will steal to my love's bed-side,
And I will kiss my bonnie, bonnie bride;
And I'll whisper a vow, whatever betide,
To my little flower in the morning.
And I will kiss my bonnie, bonnie bride;
And I'll whisper a vow, whatever betide,
To my little flower in the morning.
Her breath is as sweet as the fragrant shower
Of dew that is blown from the rowan-tree flower;
Oh, ne'er were the sweets of roseate bower,
Like my love's cheeks in the morning!
Of dew that is blown from the rowan-tree flower;
Oh, ne'er were the sweets of roseate bower,
Like my love's cheeks in the morning!
Her eye is the blue-bell of the spring,
Her hair is the fleece of the raven's wing;
To her bonnie breast oh how I'll cling,
While sleeping so sound in the morning!
Her hair is the fleece of the raven's wing;
To her bonnie breast oh how I'll cling,
While sleeping so sound in the morning!
Enter Lu and Fairies.
Lu.
Fairies, the night wears on apace;
There's a paleness spread on the heaven's face,
A silvery haze so mild to see,
As lambent and as pure as we.
Soon will we mount with blithesome sway
Through these bright paths on our spiral way,
On the locks of the morning star to swing,
Or the veil of the sky for dew to wring;
To gallop the blue so lightsome and boon,
Or braid the fair tresses of beauty so bright,
That wanton and wave at the horns of the moon,
They are half of them ether, and half of them light.
But ere we depart from the morning ray,
To follow the moonlight west away,
O spirits, advise what shall be done,
This loveliest flower beneath the sun,
From shame, from sin, and from sorrow to win.
Dew.
Bear her away,
'Twixt the night and the day;
We spirits have might
When we work for the right,
And each of us as much can bear
Of aught corporeal through the air,
As the swallow can carry on wing opprest,
Or the merle upbear to her downy nest.
Then bear her away
'Twixt the night and the day,
For she is too pure in the world to stay.
Lu.
That may not be—by right divine,
In holy church and at holy shrine,
She has been washed with prayer and vow,
And named by a name to which we bow:
Or she must change with free good-will,
Or be as she is for good or for ill.
Should I her gain, say, shall she be
The Queen of the Fairies, and queen to me?
Dew.
Treason and pain!
Speak not again;
Trial and penance must long remain!
Bonnie Philany, Snowflake, and Foam,
Rainbow, Rainbow, blink and go home!
Phil.
(Aside).
Regard not, prince, that freakish thing,
From jealousy her ravings spring;
One we must have, whatever befall;
To-morrow is our great festival,
And nought but mortal virgin's hand
Must crown thee King of Fairyland;
And then thy fate is fixed for ever,
From us and ours no more to sever.
Lu.
Would that the time were not so soon!
It is not yet the wane of the moon.
Phil.
Prince, I have a word to say to thee—
Your troubled mind and eye I see;
But if you dare to harbour a thought
Of yielding a crown so dearly bought,
With all the joys of the moonlight dell,
And the fervent beings that love you so well,
For the sake of a flower that will soon decay,
A piece of fair well-moulded clay,
We'll pick these bright eyes from your head,
And there we'll fix two eyes of lead;
We'll pull the heart from thy breast-bone,
And there we'll lodge a heart of stone:
So take thou care, lest some espy
The thoughts that in thy bosom lie.
Lu.
Sweet friendly fay, 'tis all too true;
Nor thought nor wish I'll hide from you:
Either that maiden here I must have,
Or return to the world, to death, and the grave.
Oh, haste thee, Snowflake, haste and glide
To yon little cot by the greenwood side,
And watch yon maid till the break of day,
For I hear the watch-dog's angry bay:
Watch by her pillow, and look to her bed,
For I fear that beauty is hard bested.
Nor thought nor wish I'll hide from you:
Either that maiden here I must have,
Or return to the world, to death, and the grave.
Oh, haste thee, Snowflake, haste and glide
To yon little cot by the greenwood side,
And watch yon maid till the break of day,
For I hear the watch-dog's angry bay:
Watch by her pillow, and look to her bed,
For I fear that beauty is hard bested.
Then hie you away, fairies, hie you away!
Lean to the breeze, and ride in array
Over the land and the sea so fleet;
Over the rain, and the hail, and the sleet;
Keep aye the sun far under your feet,
The morning behind and the stars by your side,
The moonbeam your path, and her crescent your guide;
For oh, her mild and humid flame
Suits best with the fairy's airy frame!
And meet we again to-morrow at even,
When the first star peeps through the veil of heaven;
And here such a palace of light shall be
As the world ne'er saw and never will see:
For there shall be lamps and glories in store,
And a thousand stars and a thousand more;
And there shall the ruby and onyx be seen,
The amethyst blue, and the emerald green,
With millions of gems of varied flame,
That have no likeness and have no name.
And our columns shall reach to the middle sky,
And the throne shall stand as the pine tree high;
Soft music shall flow of the spheres above,
The songs of gladness and songs of love;
And our feast shall begin with glory and glee—
But little we know what the end shall be!
Lean to the breeze, and ride in array
Over the land and the sea so fleet;
Over the rain, and the hail, and the sleet;
Keep aye the sun far under your feet,
351
The moonbeam your path, and her crescent your guide;
For oh, her mild and humid flame
Suits best with the fairy's airy frame!
And meet we again to-morrow at even,
When the first star peeps through the veil of heaven;
And here such a palace of light shall be
As the world ne'er saw and never will see:
For there shall be lamps and glories in store,
And a thousand stars and a thousand more;
And there shall the ruby and onyx be seen,
The amethyst blue, and the emerald green,
With millions of gems of varied flame,
That have no likeness and have no name.
And our columns shall reach to the middle sky,
And the throne shall stand as the pine tree high;
Soft music shall flow of the spheres above,
The songs of gladness and songs of love;
And our feast shall begin with glory and glee—
But little we know what the end shall be!
Song.
Oh weel befa' the guileless heart
In cottage, bught, or pen!
And weel befa' the bonnie May
That wons in yonder glen;
Wha loes the good and true sae weel—
Wha's aye sae kind and aye sae leal,
And pure as blooming asphodel
Amang sae mony men;
Oh weel befa' the bonnie thing
That wons in yonder glen.
In cottage, bught, or pen!
And weel befa' the bonnie May
That wons in yonder glen;
Wha loes the good and true sae weel—
Wha's aye sae kind and aye sae leal,
And pure as blooming asphodel
Amang sae mony men;
Oh weel befa' the bonnie thing
That wons in yonder glen.
There's beauty in the violet's vest,
There's hinny in the haw,
There's dew within the rose's breast,
The sweetest o' them a'.
The sun may rise and set again,
And lace wi' burning gowd the main,
The rainbow bend attour the plain
Sae lovely to the ken;
But there's naething like my bonnie thing
That wons in yonder glen.
There's hinny in the haw,
There's dew within the rose's breast,
The sweetest o' them a'.
The sun may rise and set again,
And lace wi' burning gowd the main,
The rainbow bend attour the plain
Sae lovely to the ken;
But there's naething like my bonnie thing
That wons in yonder glen.
'Tis sweet to hear the music float
Alang the gloaming lea;
'Tis sweet to hear the blackbird's note
Come pealing frae the tree;
To see the lambkin's lightsome race;
The speckled kid in wanton chase;
The young deer cower in lonely place
Deep in his flowery den;
But what is like the bonnie face
That smiles in yonder glen!
Alang the gloaming lea;
'Tis sweet to hear the blackbird's note
Come pealing frae the tree;
To see the lambkin's lightsome race;
The speckled kid in wanton chase;
The young deer cower in lonely place
Deep in his flowery den;
But what is like the bonnie face
That smiles in yonder glen!
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