A Rhyming Chronicle of Incidents and Feelings :: :: University of Virginia Library

In the quiet of the garden,
While beside the nut-trees walking,
Came our little sister to us.—“Pardon,”
Said she, “if I interrupt your talking,
I have got a grass nest to display you,
O do come and sit in it, I pray you:
By myself I made it: there will be
Room enough within for you and me.”

Merrily before us dancing
She look'd up into our faces;
Then again towards her grass nest glancing,
Made, returning to it, a few paces.
“I'll go make it ready. Will you follow?
O it's like a bird's nest, round and hollow.
Gardener says, those linnets in the vine
Have not got a better nest than mine.”

“We would come,” we said, she flitting
On before us, to make ready,

When we reach'd the lawn, we found her sitting,
With all state, and aspect grave and steady,
In her nest. “Sit down,” she said: “I made it
Of the new-mown grass, with trees to shade it,
And then set it round with this white May,
And red Peonies, to make it gay.”

On the beauty of the dwelling
Gave we plenteous gratulation;
Then said, “Madam, we await your telling
Of what wing'd sweet-throated tribe or nation
You may be.” “Bird's life,” in accents musing,
“Would not suit with such as I for choosing,”
Said she; “but a Fairy I will be,
And you in this house shall live with me.”

Oh! yes, this shall be my Palace,
Or my fairy ring the rather,
This gold tulip I will have for chalice,
And this branch for sceptre, which my father
Who rules six enchanted castles bravely,
Sent me!” “Cry you mercy!” said I gravely,
“What mistakes we mortals make at best—
I had thought this palace was a nest!

“Now I see, with eyes compliant,
'Tis a palace, and enchanted—
That which seem'd an oak tree is a giant,
These which I thought Sumachs near it planted
Are two dragons, ragged-tooth'd and spiteful,
Set to guard us, and these songs delightful
Come from fairies, who can, when they please,
Change to birds, and sing upon the trees!”

“Yes, it is so,” said she gaily;
“And you two shall be Princesses;
You must know that knights and damsels daily
Come to me for aid in their distresses.
Now I sit in state, and pray your Graces,
Tell me, wherefore have you left your places?
In all fairy learning I am vers'd:
I will hear the youngest Princess first!”

Then the youngest Princess, pausing,
Look'd around to aid invention,
Smiles which hover'd round her red lips causing
Me, who watch'd, to fathom her intention.
She look'd much like one who had no sorrow
Worth the telling, so one needs must borrow,

Meet to reach the blue-ey'd Fairy's ear,
Who sat scepter'd on the grass to hear.

“In a forest, Fairy Dame,
Stands my Father's Palace:
Well he loves me; and my name
Is the Princess Alice.

Trees of right great age and girth
Thickly round it planted,
Scare the sons of outer earth
From its glades enchanted.

Few of mortal race that dare
Those deep woods to enter,
Fewer far that reach the fair
Palace in the centre.

Yet of mortal race are we,
Though we look undaunted
On its shadow'd mystery,
And its sunlight haunted.

There the dwarfish people fell
Have their habitations,

There thy elfin kindred dwell
By their tribes and nations:

There the ripen'd citron breaks
From the branch untasted;—
Let the man beware who takes
Of that banquet wasted!

Hands invisible shall snatch
Sword or staff for payment;
Things unseen shall deftly catch
At his flutt'ring raiment.

There do smiling faces peep
Out from beeches hollow,
Beckoning on to defiles deep—
Woe to all that follow!

There the white-rob'd phantoms glide,
With their hands behind them,
Crying out—“O, cease to ride—
Take these hands and bind them!”

Let him 'ware to slack his rein,
Or regard their faces,

Lest to serve them he be fain
In their desert places.

There, above-ground flits and roams
The wisp-light before us;
And beneath, the toiling gnomes
Sing their evil chorus:

When the clouded sun goes in—
“Waiting for the thunder”—
We can hear their revel-din
The moss'd greensward under:

And, I tell you, all the birds,
On the branches singing,
Utter to us human words,
Like a silver ringing.

Oh! my father hath in truth
Bearing high and stately;
And my mother's face in youth
Might be lauded greatly.

Long time were they wed—but child
Had not—son nor daughter—

Till my sainted mother mild,
Near some running water,

Spinning once in mossy glade
With her Maids of honour,
And the ash-tree's greenest shade
Softly cast upon her—

She was 'ware of fingers four,
With impassion'd gesture,
(One small hand and nothing more)
Plucking at her vesture.

“Sit ye still, my maids,” she cried,
Rising up serenely;
“I would walk this rill beside
Over-arch'd so greenly.”

Fast the little hand took hold,
By the stream it drew her;
Red rays through the fir-trees old
Trembled down unto her:

She could hear two small feet pace
Closely on beside her,

But to see the spirit face
(Saith she) was denied her;
And she follow'd to a place
Where the stream grew wider.

There were stepping-stones, and green
Grew the cresses round them;
Bright the waters were between,
Where the sun-rays found them.

She look'd up, and nought could see
But some grey doves dozing,
In a noontide reverie
Their red eyelids closing.

In the heat the fir trees thick
Never mov'd asunder,
And albeit her heart beat quick,
It was but with wonder.

She look'd down, was nought below
Save the shallow water,
And the little hand let go,
Thus far having brought her!

Quoth she then (with no more dread
Than by silence made is),
“Wherefore, little hand, hast led
Me from my fair ladies?”

She could hear a rustling sound
As of doves descending,
And soft voices near the ground
With the stream's voice blending.

Natheless, doves were none, and grave
Words came sweet before her—
“Is this, sooth, that woman brave,
That fair queen, Eudora?

Will she bear us by her aid
Safe across the water,
With our grey wings shut?” It sayde,
“Hast thou yet besought her?”

“Nay!” the answ'ring voice replied,
Scantly to her reaching;
“But her human heart is wide,
And needs no beseeching!”

“Ay,” quoth she, “'tis even so;
Voice, thou speakest truly!
Let the things I see not, know
I will bear them duly!”

As a snowflake falling white,
One the other follows,
Fast they settled, soft and light,
As a flight of swallows,

On her vest and on her arms—
“Thanks, King Meroc's daughter,”—
So she bore them safe from harms
Straight across the water.

Scarce her foot had touch'd the bank
With the wondrous burden,
Than she saw them, rank by rank—
Sooth, an ample guerdon—

Creatures beautiful and rare,
Turn'd they all to greet her—
Somewhat more than human fair,
And with voices sweeter.

Sprang they down to earth, and trod
Each with bearing knightly:
“Rise up straightway from the sod,—
Horses!” cried they, lightly.

And the horses, from the ground,
Rose up at their calling;
Rose up with a snorting sound,
And with bridles falling.

Spake the foremost, set in selle,
Safe across the water,
“Madam, queen, I wish thee well,
Thee, thy prince, and daughter!”

Quoth my mother, “Mock me not
With thy words unkindly,
Daughter, Knight, I have not got;”
But she answer'd blindly.

Loud he laugh'd, and tall he grew,
Sitting straight before her,
“My good wishes aye come true,
Oh! fair queen Eudora!

“Farewell, stream! My foe's deep hate
Keeps us not asunder,
Madam Queen, thy ladies wait,
Wait for thee, and wonder!

Spells upon the margin laid—
Charms upon the water—
Hast thou broken by thine aid,
Good king Meroc's daughter!”

On the self-same day at noon,
One short twelvemonth after,
Of my birth the tidings soon
Fill'd the place with laughter.

On that day sweet voices rang
In my father's palace,
And the birds, I tell you, sang—
“Welcome, Princess Alice!”

Then the small tree-people came
With their gratulations,
And each matron fairy-dame
Of the green-clad nations,

Gliding to my mother's bed,
Gave her low-voic'd greeting,
Wishing on my infant head
For all good things meeting.

Up by thousands blithe and small
Came they in the gloaming,—
“Wish ye joy,” they cried to all
Whom they met in roaming.

Here and there in silken sheen,
Soft their garments flutter'd;
Here and there for babe and queen
Their good wishes utter'd.

“Thanks, fair Dames!” My father cried,
“Here, Sir Page, my chalice!
Happy seasons ye betide,
And the sweet maid Alice:

This I drink to your good health,
As my bounden duty;
The dear saints increase your wealth,
And prolong your beauty!”

100

Ere the word was utter'd, they
Crowded to the portals,
And with laughter keen did say—
“Oh! these dull immortals!”

On the day that I was wean'd,
One came to my chamber,
On a golden stick she lean'd,
With a head of amber.

She was aged, swart, and bent,
But her speech was cheery,
And she totter'd as she went,
As with travel weary.

“Mother! for thine infant dear,”
Quoth she, tartly speaking,
“Have I got a present here
Worthy of her seeking.”

Straightway, beautiful as light,
Fair in limb and feature,
From her bosom sprang a Sprite,
A winged childlike creature.

101

Oh! to me, to me she fled
Ere the words were spoken;
And the ancient Fairy said—
“Know, by this same token,

That she nestles at thy heart,
Loth from thee to sever—
If she one day shall depart,
Best it be for ever!

Little Princess, hold her dear,
Know, for all her dimples,
Potent Sprite she is, as e'er
Work'd with wand or simples.”

We were playmates the year round
In a change of pleasure,
With her glamour spells she found
Heaps of unus'd treasure.

When we feasted in the fern
Growing round the palace,
Easy 'twas for her to turn
Acorn cup to chalice,

102

And to call up elfins gay
With us there to revel,
When the ruddy King of Day
Peer'd in broad and level.

Me she endlessly beguil'd—
Fairy, who can blame her?
Look'd up in my face and smil'd,
Well those smiles became her!

In my bosom she did sleep,
With my dreams she blended,
Visions such as make me weep
Now, to feel them ended!

Aye, indeed! and sooth to say,
Birds did sing at dawning,
“Play on, little Princess, play—
Merry go the morning.”

It was she who made them sing,
With her chain she bound them;
Like a garment she did fling
Glamour light around them:

103

And within the magic hall
Of my Father's palace,
Bid the prankish elves to call,
“Welcome, Princess Alice!”

When we look'd into the night
Through the wicket peering,
Wondrous things there were for sight,
Wondrous things for hearing.

Then the shadows of the trees
Stretch'd their long arms nigher,
And the spirit of the breeze
Touch'd for us her lyre;

Came and whisper'd at our eaves
Melodies entrancing,
With a train of yellow leaves
In her pathway dancing:

While the sleeping birds she rock'd
Through the forest flying,
And the minstrel's cadence mock'd,
In the turrets sighing.

104

Ah! methinks I still behold,
While I tell the story,
Springing arches, portals bold,
Stretch out gaunt and hoary.

In a vision fair and clear,
Truly still I see them;
Fairy!—I have held them dear—
Wherefore did I flee them?

Silver white the moonbeams sleep
On the almond thicket,
Red as rust the sunbeams creep,
Through the palace wicket.

While the stork upon the roof
Keeps unmov'd his station,
And the swallow sits aloof
From his habitation:

And the linnet's throat is sweet,
With his peers conferring,
While at noonday in the heat
Not a leaf is stirring:

105

And the waters on their way
Eddy round the cresses,
And the whisp'ring reeds at play
Bend to their caresses:

Turrets bright with sunny air—
Hills above them swelling—
Forest-girdled stands the fair
Spirit-haunted dwelling.

But one lot must come to all
Holding mortal station
In the year is spring and fall,
Changing and mutation!

I awoke at dawn of day
Once, and, round me glancing,
I beheld the ancient Fay
To my couch advancing.

At my feet awhile she stood,
Then, her mantle raising,
Peer'd at me beneath her hood
With a keen-ey'd gazing.

106

Quoth she then, “Behold, I come
On a thankless mission;”
Nothing answer'd I, struck dumb
By the wrinkled vision.

“Come thou here, my dainty Sprite,”
Quoth the ancient Fairy;
And it fled on wings of light,
Meteor-like and airy—

Flew to her — “Give back, give back,”
Cried I, “stern despoiler!”
Vainly might I pray, Alack!
How could mortal foil her?

Coldly did she turn away,
Bearing off my treasure,
Answer'd mine entreaties, “Nay,
Get thee to thy pleasure.

There is sunshine on the grass,
Check'd with light that quivers,
There's a fountain smooth as glass
Where the aspen shivers:

107

Let the shadow of thy face
Drop upon it, daughter,
'Tis a picture fair to trace
On the dimpling water.

“Nay, be still, fond fool! good sooth!
Vain is thine imploring,
She who goes, must go! in truth
There is no restoring:

That I tell thee, lay to heart—
Better loss and dangers—
Troubled rest and aching heart
Ne'er to thee be strangers;

Better truly grief and pain
In thy soul be swelling,
Than (sweet Spirit!) she again
Make with thee her dwelling!

Oh! a second time, Princess!
Ask not that, I pray thee!
Alter'd form and chang'd caress
Then might well affray thee!”

108

From my chamber she did pass,
Pass, and left me lonely;
I look'd out, and on the grass
Play'd bright sunbeams only:

I went forth, but ne'er a bird
Round about the palace
Singing in the trees I heard,
“Welcome, Princess Alice!”

Oh! they sang at their “sweet will,”
Goldfinch, thrush, and linnet—
Somewhat miss'd I natheless still,
And I ne'er could win it.

For some cadence sure was mute,
Or had died and faded,
That erewhile as woodland flute
All the glens pervaded.

The green people all the day
Of their forms were chary,
I heard not their laughter gay,
Elf or prankish fairy:

109

Prattling tongues and busy feet,
They had all departed,
Ne'er a straggler, me to greet,
In the pathway started.

Green the fern about me grew,
In familiar places;
And the cowslips, wet with dew,
Bow'd their modest faces.

From the palace of my birth,
From each forest vista,
Pass'd a somewhat of their worth
With my heart's lost sister!

In the wing'd and blue-ey'd Fay,
Sweet enchantment centred;
With her flight they fled away,
And much sadness enter'd.

In the sultriness of noon,
And when shadows lengthen'd,
In the broad light of the moon,
Still my sorrow strengthen'd.

110

In the hills where we did play
Round each marble column,
While—the night to wile away—
Music sweet and solemn

Floated over all the place;
And each burning eresset,
Casting light on every face,
Told that joy did bless it:

When the lamp-flames many-hued
Gleam'd throughout the palace,
And with rainbow tints embued
Silver cup and chalice,

Marble walls and marble floor,
Snowy waving curtain
Shedding on them, white before,
Gorgeous hues uncertain:

And on glowing plants which, rang'd
By the pillars, flourish'd,
Dropp'd carnation tints that chang'd
With the flame that nourish'd—

111

Opal shades, as movements light
Of a robe might fan it,
To descend on myrtle white,
Balsam or pomegranate:

When the moonbeams, pure and blue,
With their rich light blended,
And the high arch, gliding through,
To the roof ascended,—

Then lay sore at my heart's door
Thoughts of her departed—
At the bitter words, “No more,”
Tears of sorrow started:

Then, ah! then the blue-ey'd Sprite,
And her winsome feigning,
Being fled—fled laughter light—
Frolic chang'd to plaining!

“Fairy of the snowy weeds,
And the azure cincture,
Hadst thou of red Foxglove seeds
Seeth'd a magic tincture,

112

As 'tis said thy folk of old
Made for eyes of mortals,
Wherewith touch'd they might behold
Of your world the portals:

Hadst thou in the mid-earth been,
Felt the earthquakes heaving,
And the fatal Sisters seen
At their endless weaving:

Heard the sad tale that, once told,
Maketh dumb for pity—
Read the secrets of the old
Hundred-gated city:

Look'd upon the Sybil's page,
Ere the flame she lighted,
And beheld Medea's rage,
By false Jason slighted:

Heard by night fell Circe raise
Magic songs of feigning,
Threaded through the Cretan maze,
Its black centre gaining:

113

Nothing could thy lore avail
To the utmost lavish'd;
And thy magic arts must fail,
To restore the Ravish'd!

Yet—to gaze on her again
(As my tale hath taught thee),
Potent Fairy, I am fain,
Therefore have I sought thee—

Through the forest, through the lea,
Through the tangled wild-wood,
For I know she dwells with thee,
And her name is—Childhood!”

So she ceas'd! Our little sister,
Wond'ring, look'd her in the face,
As her own she lifted up, and kiss'd her;
Then resum'd her state with childish grace;
Said more gravely than the case might merit—
“No, she ne'er had seen the little Spirit:

114

Never! never!” thus did she aver,
“Came that fairy Sprite to dwell with her!”

All her play-time (mournful saying!)
She was left to sport alone,
For the very bees were gone a-Maying,—
The green linnets from the nest were flown.
“So in my old castles and my bower,
Each by turn, I live, and tend a flower,
Such as in the “talking forest” grew,
Which I water with enchanted dew!”

“The grass walks are my dominions—
Moats to keep my foes away;
But that little Sprite, with downy pinions,
Flutter'd ne'er across with me to play.”
This she utter'd, as if half forgetful
That it was but fabling:—or regretful
So to think:—then said, and clear'd her brow,
“I will hear the elder Princess now.”

Then I answer'd—“My condition
Potent Fairy, you mis-state,
I no Princess am, though by permission
Of your grace, a rede I will relate—

115

Errant Minstrel, oft in minstrel fashion
Sing I songs of warfare, love and passion,
But you see, no glitt'ring crown I bear
Such as true Princesses always wear.

“Come back,—days of ancient glory,
Toilsome strife, then listless ease—
Feudal forests mingle with my story,
The deep rushing noise of wind-rock'd trees.
If my rhymes be rude, the clang of armour
Takes their sweetness from them, Fairy charmer!
Sway the sceptre well, and list my lays,
I will tell a tale of ancient days.”

I.

A gentle Maiden walk'd alone within the deep green wood,
And there she spied a fair white dove by savage hawks pursued;
“Now come to me, thou hunted dove,” the gentle maiden said,
“And find a shelter in my arms, to hide thy beauteous head.”

116

The yellow belted bee
Was at work beneath the tree,
And the woodruffe nodded lightly on the bed!

Then spake the Prince, where low he lay beneath the beechen tree,
“The maid that fain would save a bird will surely succour me.”
He slowly turn'd his fainting limbs, and spake with mickle pain,
And from his wounds the crimson blood came welling forth amain.
And the cuckoo's note was clear,
With the belling of the deer,
And the cushats sang their madrigals again.

“Oh! for thy gentle pity's sake, I pray thee to me bring
A draught to quench my raging thirst from yonder forest spring—
For truly I was here waylaid, and wounded, as ye see,
All by his treachery that is my deadly enemy!”
In the castle far away
Shone the mellow evening ray,
And the milky corn was green upon the lea.

117

She brought him water from the burn, and held it to his lips,
She led him down to the hollow tree that in the deep well dips;
She hied her away to her forest-home, and brought of her wheaten bread,
She spread him a couch of the tufted heath, to pillow his weary head.
In the twilight beetles flew
Up against him—and the dew
Dimm'd the stars that watch'd by night above his bed.

“Now who be ye, so rudely lodg'd, with face so fair and mild?”
“My father is ranger of all the wild wood, and I am his only child!”
She tended him so patiently, ten summer weeks and three,
Till the leaves were thick beneath her feet, when she came to the beechen tree.
By the castle far away
Did the lifted banner play,
And the russet corn was ripe upon the lea!

118

“Now heed me well, thou luckless youth—so hie thee hence away,
The hunters will come when the leaves are down, and peril 'twere to stay.
I have but got one silver crown, my father gave it me—
And half I'll keep to be my own, and half I'll give to thee!”
And the shallow trickling burn
Wander'd on beneath the fern,
And the leaves they made a murmur like the sea!

Then up he rose on a harvest night, in moonlight broad and clear,
While the mushroom sprung from the cold damp earth in forest pathways drear:
“O Maid, this voice to faltering takes, a-praising of thy care,
This heart can only leave behind a blessing and a prayer.”
There was mourning far away,
In the castle stern and grey,
And a bitter sound of wailing and despair.

119

Red berries on the thorn were ripe, and glisten'd wet with dew,
Young lev'rets chas'd the falling leaves that down the hollows flew;
The hay and the clover were not cut when low on the earth lay he,
When he hied him away, the hazel nut was dropping from the tree!
And the autumn wind's low strain,
Sighing up through my refrain,
Mourn'd the dreary days of winter yet to be!

II.

The prayers were said, the grave was made, the mourners wept the dead,
But where was the prince to wear the crown, and reign in his father's stead?
When the requiem notes down the long aisle swept, when the singer's voices were clear,
There came a mourner with bended brow, and stood by the stately bier!
Why so pale, my Ladye Queen?
“Ah!” she saith, “the blows were keen,
From the son of my dead lord is nought to fear!”

120

“And who be ye?” quoth the Barons bold,—“this foremost place to win?
For none may stand at the king's right hand, but he that is next of kin!”
He lifts his beaver—a welcome runs through the crowds that round him kneel,
A long low murmur that mingles well with the prayer for the dead man's weal.
Wherefore shrink, thou fair stepdame?
Little dreameth he her name,
Who with jewell'd fingers brib'd the dastard steel!

“To-morrow's sun,” quoth the knights, “at eve shall light thy crowning day,
But where from thy father's alter'd face didst hide so long away?”
Short answer then made the princely youth—to priest and peer spake he,—
“The quarry shelters in forest-brakes, and I trow they might shelter me!
Didst thou tell the false, false tale,
That made love, fair queen, to fail?
Did they part, who never met again—through thee?

121

In the Minster aisle, at dark midnight, they mourn'd the old king dead;
They set the crown, at noonday bright, upon the young king's head!
“Hearken to me, my page,” quoth he, “take horse without delay,
Fly to the forest wherein I was hid, and speed as best you may.”
With a wine cup in thy hand,
Why, O widow'd queen, dost stand?
Is it deadly?—wherefore cry, “alas, the day?”

“There shalt thou find in the deep, deep wood, a maiden fair to see,
I charge thee, by the crown I bear on my head, to bring that maid to me!”
On his courser good fast sped the page, adown the forest dell,
Till he spied a maid, set in flick'ring shade, at the brink of the forest well!
O she lifted up her face
With a bashful woodland grace,
As at sight of her he lighted from the selle.

122

“And I greet thee well,” the young page said, “for certes thou art she—
And thou must come with me, fair maid,—the prince hath sent for thee.”
Fair Edla blush'd in gath'ring fear and wonder at that rede,
“Young sir,” quoth she, “the prince I ne'er have seen in truth and deed.”
Saith he, kneeling on his knee,
“Yet thou needst must come with me.”
And she weeping, he up-rais'd her on his steed.

So fast he sped, and led the maid within the castle hall,
And much she blush'd the guests to see, and lords and ladies all.
“How fair she is,” quoth the Barons brave: “in sooth the fairest here,
Though never a pearl her bosom deck, nor robe of minivere.”
In the castle old and grey
How the merry minstrels play!
Yet from either eye she drops a glistening tear.

123

Sweet Edla sigh'd, sweet Edla wept, and knelt upon her knee,
And the high dames wonder'd her beauty bright and trembling mood to see:
When as she knelt before the prince, she rais'd not her drooping eyes—
O had she done, I wot it would have wrought her much surprise.
Through the many-tinted glass
Doth a narrow sunbeam pass,
Like a rainbow on her golden hair it lies.

“O come to me, thou hunted dove,” the new-made monarch said,
“And find a shelter in my arms, to hide thy beauteous head:
And since thou once didst share thine all, a silver crown with me,
I fain would share—'tis all I have,—a golden one with thee!”
Through the forest far away
How the wild wind swept that day,
And the yellow leaves they danc'd beneath the tree.

124

“Is that all?” our little sister
Throned in her nest, replied;
Like an echo still methinks I list her
Baby accents, though division wide
Parts us from that garden—Railway thunder,
Rushing engines rave the tall trees under,
And the grass is trampled now, and brown,
And the Elms are dead—the Sumachs down!