University of Virginia Library

Near Sunset.

Two Fairies: Rosling and Jinkling.
Ros.
Little Jinkling! friend of mine!
Where dost lurk when fairies dine?
At the banquet round and round
Searching, thee I never found.
Comest thou late? The feast is done;
Slowly sinks the mighty sun.

Jink.
Nay, fay! I was far away.
Over the tree-tops did I soar
Twenty leagues and twenty more.
Swift and high goes the dragon-fly,
And steady the death's-head moth,
But the little bird with his beak awry
Is a better saddle than both!
The lovely Lady of Elfin-Mere,
I had a message for her ear.

Ros.
Of state?

Jink.
Of state: of import great,
I must not even to thee relate.

Ros.
And is she fair?

Jink.
Thrice fair is she?
The pearly moon less delicately
Comes shining onward than this Lady
From her water-palace shady
Floats across the lucent lake,
And all her starry lilies make
Obeisance; every water-sprite
Gazing after with delight,
Only wishing he might dare
Just to touch her streaming hair,
Meanwhile, crowds of fairies glide
Over, under, the crystal tide,
Some on swimming-birds astride,
Some with merry fish at play,
Darting round her rippling way.

Ros.
There was your banquet!

Jink.
There, indeed,
Among the lily and the reed.
Wavy music, as we feasted,
Floating round us while we floated,
Soothed our pleasure and increased it;
Mirth and jest more briskly glancing
Than the water-diamonds dancing
Down the lake where sunshine smote it
Bright and gay!—might not stay!—
White the hand I kiss'd, O fay,
Leap'd on my bird, and sped away.
Hast any news to tell me?

Ros.
Much!
Never didst thou hear of such.

Jink.
A fight with spiders?—hornets?—perils
Teasing owls, or chasing squirrels?
Or some little elf, poor soul,
Lost in a winding rabbit-hole?
Are the royal trees in danger?

Ros.
Dost thou mind the Blue-cap Stranger,
Brightkin by his name, that we
Met ere noontide lullaby?

Jink.
Came he to your Feast?

Ros.
My friend,
Ask no more questions, but attend!
To the Feast he came with me,
The chamberlain most courteously
Placing us nigh the upper end.
Her Highness bow'd, and Brightkin gazed
On her face like one amazed,
While our Beauty's tender eyes
Rested with a sweet surprise
Upon the stranger-fairy: round
Went cates and wine, and Klingoling
With five new birds began to sing.
Then came a page on errand bound
To ask the stranger's name and realm:
“Brightkin of the Purple Helm,
From the Blue Mountain, fairy knight,
Flown thence to view the Forest,—might
It please her Highness.” It did please.
So by-and-by we sat at ease
In shadowy bow'r, a favour'd ring,
Now talking, now with Klingoling
Join'd in a waft of harmony;
And evermore there seem'd to be
'Twixt Brightkin and our Princess dear
A concord, more than string with string
And voice with voice rejoice one's ear.
And then he took the lute and sung,
With modest grace and skilfully,
For tipt with honey seem'd his tongue;
At first a murmuring melody,
Like the far song of falling rills
Amid the foldings of the hills,
And ever nearer as it flew,
Shaping its figure, like a bird,
Till into Love's own form it grew
In every lovely note and word.
So sweet a song we never heard!
When, think what came?

Jink.
I cannot think.

Ros.
A trumpet-blast that made us wink!
A hailstorm upon basking flowers,
Quick, sharp!—we started to our feet,
All save her Highness, mild and sweet,
Who said, “See who invades our bowers.”

Jink.
Who was it, Rosling? quickly say!

Ros.
The King of the Blue Mountains, fay,
Seeking audience, without delay.
Fierce and frowning his look at first,
Like that uncivil trumpet-burst;
But all his blackness alter'd soon,
Like clouds that melt upon the moon,
Before the gentle dignity
Of Her, Titania's child, whom we
Obey and love.

Jink.
Blest may she be!
But wherefore came the haughty King?

Ros.
Hear briefly an unusual thing.
His only Son, the prince and heir,
Kept with too strict and jealous care
Within the mountain boundaries,
To-day o'erleaps them all, and flies,
No elf knows whither: flies to-day—
The Lord of Gnomes being on his way,
Bringing to that mountain Court
His gem-clad heiress. Here was sport!
Then couriers told the angry king
They saw the Prince on gray-dove's wing
Threading our forest; and again
That he had join'd our Lady's train
“Madam! is't so?” “If this be so,
Great sir, I nothing know.” When lo!
Brightkin outspringing kneels. “My son!”
Exclaims the King, “Ho! seize and bind him!”
But swift her Highness—“Stay! let none
Move hand or foot! Great King, you find him
Here in the Forest Realm, my rule
Whereof no fairy power may school,
Saving imperial Oberon.
Free came he hither, free shall go.”
Then says the Prince, “If you command,
I leave you, Pride of Fairyland,
Else never!” Briefly now to tell,
As quickly all these things befell,
'Twas clear as new-born star they loved;
The Mountain-King their love approved;
And all were happy.

Jink.
Where are they,
The King and Prince?

Ros.
They fly away
On the sunset's latest ray.
To-morrow they will come again,
With a countless noble train:
And next full moon—the Wedding Feast!

Jink.
O joy! the greatest and the least
Will join the revelry, and bring
A marriage-gift of some fine thing.
I know a present she will prize—
A team of spot-wing'd butterflies,
Right in flight, or else with ease
Winding through the tops of trees,
Or soaring in the summer sky.

Ros.
Well done, Jinkling!—Now good-bye;
Sleepy as a field-mouse I,
When paws and snout coil'd he doth lie.

Jink.
Hark to Klingoling's lute-playing!
On the poplar-spire a-swaying
Gently to the crescent moon.

Ros.
I cannot stay to hear the tune.

Jink.
I linger in the yellow light.

Ros.
And so, good-night!

Jink.
And so, good-night!