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THE FAY’S SENTENCE
THE MONARCH sat on his judgment-seat |
| On his brow the crown imperial shone, |
| The prisoner Fay was at his feet, |
| And his peers were ranged around the throne. |
| He waved his sceptre in the air; |
| He looked around and calmly spoke; |
| His brow was grave and his eye severe, |
| But his voice in a softened accent broke: |
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| “Fairy! Fairy! list and mark, |
| Thou hast broke thine elfin chain, |
| Thy flame-wood lamp is quenched and dark, |
| And thy wings are dyed with a deadly stain— |
| Thou hast sullied thine elfin purity |
| In the glance of a mortal maiden’s eye, |
| Thou hast scorned our dread decree, |
| And thou shouldst pay the forfeit high, |
| But well I know her sinless mind |
| Is pure as the angel forms above, |
| Gentle and meek, and chaste and kind, |
| Such as a spirit well might love; |
| Fairy! had she spot or taint, |
| Bitter had been thy punishment. |
| Tied to the hornet’s shardy wings; |
| Tossed on the pricks of nettle’s stings; |
| Or seven long ages doomed to dwell |
| With the lazy worm in the walnut-shell; |
| Or every night to writhe and bleed |
| Beneath the tread of the centipede; |
| Or bound in a cobweb dungeon dim, |
| Your jailer a spider huge and grim, |
| Amid the carrion bodies to lie, |
| Of the worm, and the bug, and the murdered fly; |
| These it had been your lot to bear, |
| Had a stain been found on the earthly fair. |
| Now list, and mark our mild decree— |
| Fairy, this your doom must be: |
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| “Thou shalt seek the beach of sand |
| Where the water bounds the elfin land, |
| Thou shalt watch the oozy brine |
| Till the sturgeon leaps in the bright moon-shine, |
| Then dart the glistening arch below, |
| And catch a drop from his silver bow. |
| The water-sprites will wield their arms |
| And dash around, with roar and rave, |
| And vain are the woodland spirits’ charms, |
| They are the imps that rule the wave. |
| Yet trust thee in thy single might,— |
| If thy heart be pure and thy spirit right, |
| Thou shalt win the warlock fight. |
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| “If the spray-bead gem be won, |
| The stain of thy wing is washed away, |
| But another errand must be done |
| Ere thy crime be lost for aye; |
| Thy flame-wood lamp is quenched and dark, |
| Thou must re-illumine its spark. |
| Mount thy steed and spur him high |
| To the heaven’s blue canopy; |
| And when thou seest a shooting star, |
| Follow it fast, and follow it far— |
| The last faint spark of its burning train |
| Shall light the elfin lamp again. |
| Thou hast heard our sentence, Fay; |
| Hence! to the water-side, away!” |
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THE FIRST QUEST
The goblin marked his monarch well; |
| He spake not, but he bowed him low, |
| Then plucked a crimson colon-bell, |
| And turned him round in act to go. |
| The way is long, he cannot fly, |
| His soilëd wing has lost its power, |
| And he winds adown the mountain high, |
| For many a sore and weary hour, |
| Through dreary beds of tangled fern, |
| Through groves of nightshade dark and dern, |
| Over the grass and through the brake, |
| Where toils the ant and sleeps the snake; |
| Now o’er the violet ’s azure flush |
| He skips along in lightsome mood; |
| And now he thrids the bramble bush, |
| Till its points are dyed in fairy blood. |
| He has leapt the bog, he has pierced the brier, |
| He has swum the brook, and waded the mire, |
| Till his spirits sank, and his limbs grew weak, |
| And the red waxed fainter in his cheek. |
| He had fallen to the ground outright, |
| For rugged and dim was his onward track, |
| But there came a spotted toad in sight, |
| And he laughed as he jumped upon her back; |
| He bridled her mouth with a silk-weed twist; |
| He lashed her sides with an osier thong; |
| And now through evening’s dewy mist, |
| With leap and spring they bound along, |
| Till the mountain’s magic verge is past, |
| And the beach of sand is reached at last. |
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| Soft and pale is the moony beam, |
| Moveless still the glassy stream, |
| The wave is clear, the beach is bright |
| With snowy shells and sparkling stones; |
| The shore-surge comes in ripples light, |
| In murmurings faint and distant moans; |
| And ever afar in the silence deep |
| Is heard the splash of the sturgeon’s leap, |
| And the bend of his graceful bow is seen— |
| A glittering arch of silver sheen, |
| Spanning the wave of burnished blue, |
| And dripping with gems of the river dew. |
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| The elfin cast a glance around, |
| As he lighted down from his courser toad, |
| Then round his breast his wings he wound, |
| And close to the river’s brink he strode; |
| He sprang on a rock, he breathed a prayer, |
| Above his head his arms he threw, |
| Then tossed a tiny curve in air, |
| And headlong plunged in the waters blue. |
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| Up sprung the spirits of the waves, |
| From sea-silk beds in their coral caves; |
| With snail-plate armor snatched in haste, |
| They speed their way through the liquid waste; |
| Some are rapidly borne along |
| On the mailëd shrimp or the prickly prong, |
| Some on the blood-red leeches glide, |
| Some on the stony star-fish ride, |
| Some on the back of the lancing squab, |
| Some on the sideling soldier-crab, |
| And some on the jellied quarl, that flings |
| At once a thousand streamy stings,— |
| They cut the wave with the living oar |
| And hurry on to the moonlight shore, |
| To guard their realms and chase away |
| The footsteps of the invading Fay. |
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| Fearlessly he skims along, |
| His hope is high, and his limbs are strong, |
| He spreads his arms like the swallow’s wing, |
| And throws his feet with a frog-like fling; |
| His locks of gold on the waters shine, |
| At his breast the tiny foam-beads rise, |
| His back gleams bright above the brine, |
| And the wake-line foam behind him lies. |
| But the water-sprites are gathering near |
| To check his course along the tide; |
| Their warriors come in swift career |
| And hem him round on every side; |
| On his thigh the leech has fixed his hold, |
| The quarl’s long arms are round him rolled, |
| The prickly prong has pierced his skin, |
| And the squab has thrown his javelin, |
| The gritty star has rubbed him raw, |
| And the crab has struck with his giant claw; |
| He howls with rage, and he shrieks with pain, |
| He strikes around, but his blows are vain; |
| Hopeless is the unequal fight, |
| Fairy! naught is left but flight. |
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| He turned him round and fled amain |
| With hurry and dash to the beach again; |
| He twisted over from side to side, |
| And laid his cheek to the cleaving tide. |
| The strokes of his plunging arms are fleet, |
| And with all his might he flings his feet, |
| But the water-sprites are round him still, |
| To cross his path and work him ill. |
| They bade the wave before him rise; |
| They flung the sea-fire in his eyes, |
| And they stunned his ears with the scallop stroke, |
| With the porpoise heave and the drum-fish croak. |
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| Oh! but a weary wight was he |
| When he reached the foot of the dog-wood tree; |
| —Gashed and wounded, and stiff and sore, |
| He laid him down on the sandy shore; |
| He blessed the force of the charmëd line, |
| And he banned the water-goblins’ spite, |
| For he saw around in the sweet moonshine, |
| Their little wee faces above the brine, |
| Giggling and laughing with all their might |
| At the piteous hap of the Fairy wight. |
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THE SECOND QUEST
Up, Fairy! quit thy chick-weed bower, |
| The cricket has called the second hour, |
| Twice again, and the lark will rise |
| To kiss the streaking of the skies— |
| Up! thy charmëd armor don, |
| Thou ’lt need it ere the night be gone. |
| He put his acorn helmet on; |
| It was plumed of the silk of the thistle down; |
| The corselet plate that guarded his breast |
| Was once the wild bee’s golden vest; |
| His cloak, of a thousand mingled dyes, |
| Was formed of the wings of butterflies; |
| His shield was the shell of a lady-bug queen, |
| Studs of gold on a ground of green; |
| And the quivering lance, which he brandished bright, |
| Was the sting of a wasp he had slain in fight. |
| Swift he bestrode his fire-fly steed; |
| He bared his blade of the bent grass blue; |
| He drove his spurs of the cockle seed, |
| And away like a glance of thought he flew, |
| To skim the heavens and follow far |
| The fiery trail of the rocket-star. |
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| The moth-fly, as he shot in air, |
| Crept under the leaf, and hid her there; |
| The katy-did forgot its lay, |
| The prowling gnat fled fast away, |
| The fell mosquito checked his drone |
| And folded his wings till the Fay was gone, |
| And the wily beetle dropped his head, |
| And fell on the ground as if he were dead; |
| They crouched them close in the darksome shade, |
| They quaked all o’er with awe and fear, |
| For they had felt the blue-bent blade, |
| And writhed at the prick of the elfin spear; |
| Many a time on a summer’s night, |
| When the sky was clear and the moon was bright, |
| They had been roused from the haunted ground, |
| By the yelp and bay of the fairy hound; |
| They had heard the tiny bugle horn, |
| They had heard the twang of the maize-silk string, |
| When the vine-twig bows were tightly drawn, |
| And the nettle shaft through air was borne, |
| Feathered with down of the hum-bird’s wing. |
| And now they deemed the courier ouphe |
| Some hunter sprite of the elfin ground; |
| And they watched till they saw him mount the roof |
| That canopies the world around; |
| Then glad they left their covert lair, |
| And freaked about in the midnight air. |
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| Up to the vaulted firmament |
| His path the fire-fly courser bent, |
| And at every gallop on the wind, |
| He flung a glittering spark behind; |
| He flies like a feather in the blast |
| Till the first light cloud in heaven is past, |
| But the shapes of air have begun their work, |
| And a drizzly mist is round him cast, |
| He cannot see through the mantle murk, |
| He shivers with cold, but he urges fast, |
| Through storm and darkness, sleet and shade; |
| He lashes his steed and spurs amain, |
| For shadowy hands have twitched the rein, |
| And flame-shot tongues around him played, |
| And near him many a fiendish eye |
| Glared with a fell malignity, |
| And yells of rage, and shrieks of fear, |
| Came screaming on his startled ear. |
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| His wings are wet around his breast, |
| The plume hangs dripping from his crest, |
| His eyes are blurred with the lightning’s glare, |
| And his ears are stunned with the thunder’s blare, |
| But he gave a shout, and his blade he drew, |
| He thrust before and he struck behind, |
| Till he pierced their cloudy bodies through, |
| And gashed their shadowy limbs of wind; |
| Howling the misty spectres flew,— |
| They rend the air with frightful cries, |
| For he has gained the welkin blue, |
| And the land of clouds beneath him lies. |
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| Up to the cope careering swift |
| In breathless motion fast, |
| Fleet as the swallow cuts the drift, |
| Or the sea-roc rides the blast, |
| The sapphire sheet of eve is shot, |
| The spherëd moon is past, |
| The earth but seems a tiny blot |
| On a sheet of azure cast. |
| O! it was sweet in the clear moonlight, |
| To tread the starry plain of even, |
| To meet the thousand eyes of night, |
| And feel the cooling breath of heaven! |
| But the Elfin made no stop or stay |
| Till he came to the bank of the milky way; |
| Then he checked his courser’s foot, |
| And watched for the glimpse of the planet shoot. |
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ELFIN SONG
Ouphe and goblin! imp and sprite! |
| Elf of eve! and starry Fay! |
| Ye that love the moon’s soft light, |
| Hither—hither wend your way; |
| Twine ye in a jocund ring, |
| Sing and trip it merrily, |
| Hand to hand, and wing to wing, |
| Round the wild witch-hazel tree. |
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| Hail the wanderer again, |
| With dance and song, and lute and lyre. |
| Pure his wing and strong his chain, |
| And doubly bright his fairy fire. |
| Twine ye in an airy round, |
| Brush the dew and print the lea; |
| Skip and gambol, hop and bound, |
| Round the wild witch-hazel tree. |
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| The beetle guards our holy ground, |
| He flies about the haunted place, |
| And if mortal there be found, |
| He hums in his ears and flaps his face; |
| The leaf-harp sounds our roundelay, |
| The owlet ’s eyes our lanterns be; |
| Thus we sing, and dance, and play, |
| Round the wild witch-hazel tree. |
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