 | The Haunted Glen |  |
SCENE I.
A Dell, by moonlight; with a distant view behind.— Enter a Fairy, 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 chesnut tree,
And scare with yelp and eldrich croon
The spirits that pass by the light of the moon.
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I heard a sound come through the wood,
I fear'd it came from flesh and blood;
But I'll be with thee for evil or good.
Enter Spirit.
Now, fairy, tell me, whither away,
For I have much to thee to say,
And much to do ere the break of day?
Fairy.
I know thee not—I cannot tell
Whether thou art from heaven or hell.
In Scottish glen, since the days of old,
I have watch'd the hamlet and the fold;
Long have I sojourn'd by mountain and dale,
I have sail'd on the moon-beam, 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 for a while to dwell;
Tell me thy nature, and mine I'll tell.
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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 form'd 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,
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And flash'd into the middle sky;
From these, a thin blue vapour came,
Something between a smoke and flame,
And it journey'd 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 corpse lies stretched near—
Within yon wood, of alders gray,
There was murder done at the close of day.
O, I ne'er saw so lovely a sight,
As a maiden's corpse 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,
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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 moon-light,
Each flowret's bosom to bedight,
For the fairies revel here o'er night.
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Who in Fairy land hath sojourn'd a while,
Must be crown'd 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;
For in this glen there dwells a dame,
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.
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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 blythe as the laverock in heaven;
Tender to childhood, gentle to age,
Pesterous to priest, and freakish with 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.
(Exit Spirit.)
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Endless trains of Fairies, clothed in green, and riding on white steeds, are seen in the distance—Song within.
Fairy
Song.
Sweet is the mountain breeze of night,
To fairy troopers blithly riding,
Over holt, and holm, and height,
Through the links of greenwood gliding.
Chorus.
Are Lu! Ora Lu!
Who shall man and fairy sever?
Ara Lu! Ora Lu!
They are knit, and knit for ever.
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Lu is prince of Fairyland,
Vales of light and fairy fountains;
Lu shall wield the regal wand
Over Scotia's heathy mountains.
Chorus.
Ara Lu! Ora Lu! &c.
Enter Lu and Female Fairies.
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.
O 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.
O guard that well!—If e'er thou mark'st the eye
Beaming with more than earthly lustre,—then
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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 adder's young, and from the sloe-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.)
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.
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.
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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 adder's young, and from the sloe-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.
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To sport and revel till the dawn of day.
(He embraces them all.)
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.
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.
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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 corselet still!
Lu.
Hie you away, by valley and brae,
Attend to your tasks, by night and by day,
And each take a thousand fays along,
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 grey-hair'd sire shall rejoice in mind,
And look before and not behind;
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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 marten play,
And the child shall dance by the adder's den,
Since spirits pure are conjoin'd with men.
CHORUS.
Then hie away, fairies, hie away,
Light over flower and tender spray,
Light over moonbeam and midnight dew,
Our blithsome gambols to renew.
| The Haunted Glen | |