A Fairy Tale

Immortal Imogen, crown'd queen aboveThe lilies of thy sex, vouchsafe to hearA fairy dream in honor of true love--True above ills, and frailty, and all fear,--Perchance a shadow of his own careerWhose youth was darkly prison'd and long-twinedBy serpent-sorrow, till white Love drew near,And sweetly sang him free, and round his mindA bright horizon threw, wherein no grief may wind.

I saw a tower builded on a lake,Mock'd by its inverse shadow, dark and deep--That seem'd a still intenser night to make,Wherein the quiet waters sank to sleep,--And, whatso'er was prison'd in that keep,A monstrous Snake was warden:--round and roundIn sable ringlets I beheld him creepBlackest amid black shadows to the ground,Whilst his enormous head, the topmost turret crown'd.

From whence he shot fierce light against the stars,Making the pale moon paler with affright;And with his ruby eye out-threaten'd Mars--That blaz'd in the mid-heavens, hot and bright--Nor slept, nor wink'd, but with a steadfast spiteWatch'd their wan looks and tremblings in the skies;And that he might not slumber in the night,The curtain-lids were pluck'd from his large eyes,So he might never drowse, but watch his secret prize.

Prince or princess in dismal durance pent,Victims of old Enchantment's love or hate,Their lives must all in painful sighs be spent,Watching the lonely waters soon and late,And clouds that pass and leave them to their fate,Or company their grief with heavy tears:--Meanwhile that Hope can spy no golden gateFor sweet escapement, but in darksome fearsThey weep and pine away as if immortal years.

No gentle bird with gold upon its wingWill perch upon the grate--the gentle birdIs safe in leafy dell, and will not bringFreedom's sweet key-note and commission-wordLearn'd of a fairy's lips, for pity stirr'd--Lest while he trembling sings, untimely guest!Watch'd by that cruel Snake and darkly heard,He leave a widow on her lonely nest,To press in silent grief the darlings of her breast.

No gallant knight, adventurous, in his bark,Will seek the fruitful perils of the place,To rouse with dipping oar the waters darkThat bear that serpent image on their face.And Love, brave Love! though he attempt the base,Nerved to his loyal death, he may not winHis captive lady from the strict embraceOf that foul Serpent, clasping her withinHis sable folds--like Eve enthrall'd by the old Sin.

But there is none--no knight in panoply,Nor Love, intrench'd in his strong steely coat:No little speck--no sail--no helper nigh,No sign--no whispering--no plash of boat:--The distant shores show dimly and remote,Made of a deeper mist,--serene and gray,--And slow and mute the cloudy shadows floatOver the gloomy wave, and pass away,Chased by the silver beams that on their marges play.

And bright and silvery the willows sleepOver the shady verge--no mad winds teaseTheir hoary heads; but quietly they weepTheir sprinkling leaves--half fountains and half trees:Their lilies be--and fairer than all these,A solitary Swan her breast of snowLaunches against the wave that seems to freezeInto a chaste reflection, still belowTwin shadow of herself wherever she may go.

And forth she paddles in the very noonOf solemn midnight like an elfin thing,Charm'd into being by the argent moon--Whose silver light for love of her fair wingGoes with her in the shade, still worshippingHer dainty plumage:--all around her grewA radiant circlet, like a fairy ring;And all behind, a tiny little clueOf light, to guide her back across the waters blue.

And sure she is no meaner than a fay,Redeem'd from sleepy death, for beauty's sake,By old ordainment:--silent as she lay,Touched by a moonlight wand I saw her wake,And cut her leafy slough, and so forsakeThe verdant prison of her lily peers,That slept amidst the stars upon the lake--A breathing shape--restored to human fears,And new-born love and grief--self-conscious of her tears.

And now she clasps her wings around her heart,And near that lonely isle begins to glide,Pale as her fears, and oft-times with a startTurns her impatient head from side to sideIn universal terrors--all too wideTo watch; and often to that marble keepUpturns her pearly eyes, as if she spiedSome foe, and crouches in the shadows steepThat in the gloomy wave go diving fathoms deep.

And well she may, to spy that fearful thingAll down the dusky walls in circlets wound;Alas! for what rare prize, with many a ringGirding the marble casket round and round?His folded tail, lost in the gloom profound,Terribly darkeneth the rocky base;But on the top his monstrous head is crown'dWith prickly spears, and on his doubtful faceGleam his unwearied eyes, red watchers of the place.

Alas! of the hot fires that nightly fall,No one will scorch him in those orbs of spite,So he may never see beneath the wallThat timid little creature, all too bright,That stretches her fair neck, slender and white,Invoking the pale moon, and vainly triesHer throbbing throat, as if to charm the nightWith song--but, hush--it perishes in sighs,And there will be no dirge sad-swelling, though she dies!

She droops--she sinks--she leans upon the lake,Fainting again into a lifeless flower;But soon the chilly springs anoint and wakeHer spirit from its death, and with new powerShe sheds her stifled sorrows in a showerOf tender song, timed to her falling tears--That wins the shady summit of that tower,And, trembling all the sweeter for its fears,Fills with imploring moan that cruel monster's ears.

And, lo! the scaly beast is all deprest,Subdued like Argus by the might of sound--What time Apollo his sweet lute addrestTo magic converse with the air, and boundThe many monster eyes, all slumber-drown'd:--So on the turret-top that watchful SnakePillows his giant head, and lists profound,As if his wrathful spite would never wake,Charm'd into sudden sleep for Love and Beauty's sake!

His prickly crest lies prone upon his crown,And thirsty lip from lip disparted flies,To drink that dainty flood of music down--His scaly throat is big with pent-up sighs--And whilst his hollow ear entranced lies,His looks for envy of the charmed senseAre fain to listen, till his steadfast eyes,Stung into pain by their own impotence,Distil enormous tears into the lake immense.

Oh, tuneful Swan! oh, melancholy bird!Sweet was that midnight miracle of song,Rich with ripe sorrow, needful of no wordTo tell of pain, and love, and love's deep wrong--Hinting a piteous tale--perchance how longThy unknown tears were mingled with the lake,What time disguised thy leafy mates among--And no eye knew what human love and acheDwelt in those dewy leaves, and heart so nigh to break.

Therefore no poet will ungently touchThe water-lily, on whose eyelids dewTrembles like tears; but ever hold it suchAs human pain may wander through and through,Turning the pale leaf paler in its hue--Wherein life dwells, transfigured, not entomb'd,By magic spells. Alas! who ever knewSorrow in all its shapes, leafy and plumed,Or in gross husks of brutes eternally inhumed?

And now the winged song has scaled the heightOf that dark dwelling, builded for despair,And soon a little casement flashing brightWidens self-open'd into the cool air--That music like a bird may enter thereAnd soothe the captive in his stony cage;For there is nought of grief, or painful care,But plaintive song may happily engageFrom sense of its own ill, and tenderly assuage.

And forth into the light, small and remote,A creature, like the fair son of a king,Draws to the lattice in his jewell'd coatAgainst the silver moonlight glistening,And leans upon his white hand listeningTo that sweet music that with tenderer toneSalutes him, wondering what kindly thingIs come to soothe him with so tuneful moan,Singing beneath the walls as if for him alone!

And while he listens, the mysterious song,Woven with timid particles of speech.Twines into passionate words that grieve alongThe melancholy notes, and softly teachThe secrets of true love,--that trembling reachHis earnest ear, and through the shadows dunHe missions like replies, and each to eachTheir silver voices mingle into one,Like blended streams that make one music as they run.

"Ah! Love, my hope is swooning in my heart,--""Ay, sweet, my cage is strong and hung full high--""Alas! our lips are held so far apart,Thy words come faint,--they have so far to fly!--""If I may only shun that serpent-eye,--""Ah me! that serpent-eye doth never sleep;--""Then, nearer thee, Love's martyr, I will die!--""Alas, alas! that word has made me weep!For pity's sake remain safe in thy marble keep!"

"My marble keep! it is my marble tomb--""Nay, sweet! but thou hast there thy living breath--""Aye to expend in sighs for this hard doom;--""But I will come to thee and sing beneath,""And nightly so beguile this serpent wreath;--""Nay, I will find a path from these despairs.""Ah, needs then thou must tread the back of death,Making his stony ribs thy stony stairs.--Behold his ruby eye, how fearfully it glares!"

Full sudden at these words, the princely youthLeaps on the scaly back that slumbers, stillUnconscious of his foot, yet not for ruth,But numb'd to dulness by the fairy skillOf that sweet music (all more wild and shrillFor intense fear) that charm'd him as he lay--Meanwhile the lover nerves his desperate will,Held some short throbs by natural dismay,Then down the serpent-track begins his darksome way.

Now dimly seen--now toiling out of sight,Eclipsed and cover'd by the envious wall;Now fair and spangled in the sudden light,And clinging with wide arms for fear of fall;Now dark and shelter'd by a kindly pallOf dusky shadow from his wakeful foe;Slowly he winds adown--dimly and small,Watch'd by the gentle Swan that sings below,Her hope increasing, still, the larger he doth grow.

But nine times nine the serpent folds embraceThe marble walls about--which he must treadBefore his anxious foot may touch the base:Long in the dreary path, and must be sped!But Love, that holds the mastery of dread,Braces his spirit, and with constant toilHe wins his way, and now, with arms outspread,Impatient plunges from the last long coil;So may all gentle Love ungentle Malice foil!

The song is hush'd, the charm is all complete,And two fair Swans are swimming on the lake:But scarce their tender bills have time to meet,When fiercely drops adown that cruel Snake--His steely scales a fearful rustling make,Like autumn leaves that tremble and foretellThe sable storm;--the plumy lovers quake--And feel the troubled waters pant and swell,Heaved by the giant bulk of their pursuer fell.

His jaws, wide yawning like the gates of Death,Hiss horrible pursuit--his red eyes glareThe waters into blood--his eager breathGrows hot upon their plumes:--now, minstrel fair!She drops her ring into the waves, and thereIt widens all around, a fairy ringWrought of the silver light--the fearful pairSwim in the very midst, and pant and clingThe closer for their fears, and tremble wing to wing.

Bending their course over the pale gray lake,Against the pallid East, wherein light play'dIn tender flushes, still the baffled SnakeCircled them round continually, and bay'dHoarsely and loud, forbidden to invadeThe sanctuary ring--his sable mailRoll'd darkly through the flood, and writhed and madeA shining track over the waters pale,Lash'd into boiling foam by his enormous tail.

And so they sail'd into the distance dim,Into the very distance--small and white,Like snowy blossoms of the spring that swimOver the brooklets--follow'd by the spiteOf that huge Serpent, that with wild affrightWorried them on their course, and sore annoy,Till on the grassy marge I saw them 'light,And change, anon, a gentle girl and boy,Lock'd in embrace of sweet unutterable joy!

Then came the Morn, and with her pearly showersWept on them, like a mother, in whose eyesTears are no grief; and from his rosy bowersThe Oriental sun began to rise,Chasing the darksome shadows from the skies;Wherewith that sable Serpent far awayFled, like a part of night--delicious sighsFrom waking blossoms purified the day,And little birds were singing sweetly from each spray.