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diff --git a/old/67883-0.txt b/old/67883-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 241cf47..0000000 --- a/old/67883-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1399 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The End of Elfintown, by Jane Barlow - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The End of Elfintown - -Author: Jane Barlow - -Illustrator: Laurence Housman - -Release Date: April 20, 2022 [eBook #67883] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE END OF ELFINTOWN *** - - - - - - [Illustration: - - THE END OF - ELFINTOWN - - BY - JANE BARLOW - ILLUSTRATED BY - LAURENCE HOUSMAN - - LONDON - MACMILLAN & CO. - 1894] - - - - - I.--THE BUILDING - - [Illustration] - - - Now would that he who knew so well - Of fierce Pigwiggin’s armour fell, - And angered Oberon’s wrath, to tell, - And how their feud was ended, - Yea, would that he, ere hence he sped, - Had writ in gold, as I in lead, - For men to learn why Fays be fled, - And whitherward they wended. - - It hapt in ages far agone - A harmful spell was cast upon - That Elfin King, great Oberon, - And teen and trouble brought him; - And albeit none can track the skill - That wove the charm full-fraught with ill, - We wot the Bad Brown Witch’s will - Such perilous mischief wrought him. - - For she by magic showed him clear, - In mirroring crystal of her mere, - A wondrous Town; ’twas many a year - Ere yet its like were builded; - But thro’ her might of gramarie - She made the Elfin Prince to see - The grandest that on earth should be, - And most by wealth-wand gilded. - - ’Twas shrunk, I trow, to seemly size - For straiter range of Elfin eyes, - But else it had its mortal guise, - No sight, no stir omitted, - With tower and temple, and mart and street, - And prison and palace, all complete, - And whirr of wheels, and hurry of feet - That hither thither flitted. - - Whereon the King much-marvelling gazed, - Admiring more, and more amazed, - Till, when the Witch its image razed, - Still in his heart it tarried, - (A secret that he might not tell), - And home unto his woodland dell - That city’s vision, like a spell, - O’er all his thoughts he carried. - - And since that day he dwelled no more - In joyance blithe as theretofore, - But sadly aye himself he bore - Amid the sunniest shining; - Nor quivering beam, nor fluttering breeze, - Nor flickering shade, his sense could please; - He dreamed of rarer things than these, - And for their lack was pining. - - From harebell’s tent to bindweed’s hall, - From cup-moss low to foxglove tall, - He shifted oft his couch withal, - Yet still would chide his chamber, - And said the glowworm-lamps burned dim, - And slurred the dew at rose-bud’s rim; - The kingcup’s gold looked dull to him, - And cowslip’s gawds of amber. - - Hence, on his discontents to brood, - He sat one eve in sorry mood, - While whispering Elves around him stood, - And said ’twas strange, ’twas pity; - When, sudden, light as leaf on spray, - He leaped and laughed: “By Flowers o’ May, - Mine Elves,” quoth he, “our own essay - Shall build as fair a city.” - - And eagerly at morrow’s light - He hasted forth to choose a site, - Whereon should now be reared aright - Strong walls and storeys stately. - He found it soon: an earth-plot bare - Beyond an elm’s droop; six yards square; - No sod, no moss, no weed, throve there, - Which pleased King Oberon greatly. - - “For thro’ those streets,” said he, “was seen - No blade of grass, or glint of green, - But pavements ferly smooth and clean; - Small fear of footsteps tripping.” - Not far away a brook bobbed by: - “From thence,” he said, “we may supply - Our waterworks; and soothly I - Grow weary of dew-drop sipping.” - - Then hied him home amain, and shook - His drowsy Fays from every nook, - And bade them follow with him, and look - Where splendour should be springing; - And ere the earliest star blinked down - Upon that earth-patch bare and brown, - The first white pebble of Elfintown - He laid ’mid cheers loud-ringing. - - And now, indeed, industrious days - Be risen upon the land of Fays, - Where every liege his Lord obeys, - And toils beside his neighbour. - They plied them late, they plied them soon, - In dew of dawn, thro’ drowth of noon, - Nay, oft the wan light of a moon - Swam in to lamp their labour. - - No more round Faery-ring they swept - In mazy measures ere they slept; - But, silent, to his lair each crept, - Limb wearied, sinews aching. - No more they couched in campion’s cell, - Or slumbered soft in lily-bell; - Prone on the ground they flung pell-mell, - Brief rest from task-work taking. - - Some kneaded stubborn clay for bricks, - -[Illustration: - -_Copyright 1894 by Macmillan & Co._] - - With shells’ jagged splints some sawed at sticks, - Some delved the soil with brier-thorn picks - To helves of flax-haulm fitted; - On business more than one can name - From dawn to dusk they went and came; - None durst his share refuse for shame, - Nor would with sloth be twitted. - - And brutish things, that creep and crawl - Stingless and strong, they did enthrall - To burdens bear, and pull and haul, - Along the highways goaded; - There might ye see the Beetle black - Come lumbering down the dusty track, - With pebble-blocks piled on his back, - Or mossy twig-beams loaded. - - And oft they ponderous weights would heap - On slow-paced Slugs, who, half-asleep, - For many a tedious yard must creep, - Their drivers by them trudging; - Even nimbler Ants they made submit - To bridle and curb of cobweb knit, - Unruly teams, that plunged and bit, - Against the yoke sore grudging. - - Thus, sped by toil of serf and Fay, - The work lagged nowise; day by day - New mansions rose in rich array - Beside the paven causey; - Their like was ne’er in Elfland known, - Some built of brick, and some of stone, - And roofed with mica slabs that shone, - And glazed with gnat-wings gauzy. - - But, fairest amongst all these descried, - Stood in the middle edified - The Palace where the King should bide, - Well worthy a royal master; - Of whitest graile its walls, or stained - With delicate streaks like marble veined, - From brook-bank quarries drawn, fine-grained, - And pure as alabaster. - - I dare not say how many a line - It towered aloft, nor words are mine - To tell what fancies Faery-fine - Did hall and chamber garnish, - All carpeted with hand-spun moss, - Or laurel-leaf tight strained across, - That flooring made of smoother gloss - Than e’er had wax or varnish. - - With couch, and stool, and cushion strown - Of ash-bud’s silk or thistle’s down; - Their rugs, fluffed fells of field-mice brown, - For tiger’s skin and panther’s. - Their curtains came from spider-looms, - Their walls were hung with moths’ soft plumes; - Much gold-dust glittered thro’ the rooms, - From stamens brushed and anthers. - - A midge-flight from the Palace gate, - (Scroll-work of skeleton beech-leaf) straight - A Fane they reared that matched in state - -[Illustration: - -_Copyright 1894 by Macmillan & Co._] - - Famed Athens or Eleusis; - Such beauty frieze and cornice lent, - Entablature and pediment; - In double row tall columns went - Around it, as their use is. - - Each from one slab of rush’s pith - Hewn, like majestic monolith, - The architrave to prop, therewith - The massy roof upholding. - Indoors ’twas all adusk and chill; - No Fay but felt a solemn thrill - To pace its cloistered twilight still - Mysterious glooms enfolding. - - Then from the brook with trenching spade - Smooth dandelion tubes they laid, - And hemlock pipes that bitter made - The water thro’ them tasted; - Hence, some fastidious Fays would go - With acorn barrels to and fro, - Till this the King forbade, lest so - Their labour seem but wasted. - - Herein alone his fortune frowned: - That in all Fayland was not found - The fire-snake, lured from underground - As even-dusk grows dimmer; - This lacked, they did for lamp-posts choose - Stout daisy-stems, and glowworms use, - Chained there all night with knot and noose, - To make a goodly glimmer. - -[Illustration: - -_Copyright by Macmillan & Co. 1894_] - - But who so fain as Oberon, - That watched as every morn outshone - His peerless city waxing on, - While in its growth he gloried? - Triumphant joy it gave the King - To see each straw-plank scaffolding - Pulled down piecemeal, as walls upspring, - Wide-windowed, many-storied. - - And ever his stirring Elves amid - He walked, and spied on all they did, - And toilers praised, and idlers chid, - With earnest speech and eager; - Till, swift as blades in April-time - Thro’ clod-cracks pricked, did skyward climb - Roof crowding roof; whereof my rime - Keeps but a record meagre. - - And now ye might, in sooth, have thought, - Seeing all to such perfection wrought, - That Fays might well repose have sought, - From toil returned to pleasure. - Howbeit, not so their King inclined, - For fast as sped the works designed, - Fresh plans were shapen in his mind, - That wist not bound or measure. - - Oft as from Palace towers he eyed - That spacious plain, as oft he sighed - To see it planted far and wide - With street-rows thick as stubble. - Nor seldom flaws of wind and rain, - Uplifting roof, and shattering pane, - That needs must be restored again, - Did Elfin labours double. - - Thus, by the malice of the skies, - And tasks their King would still devise, - The Fays beheld new toils arise - To bar their hope of resting; - As he who from the strand hath swum, - While in his ear the surges hum, - Sees evermore to meet him come - White flocks of billows cresting. - - Which when at last they clearly knew, - Deep discontent upon them grew, - Till scarce a Fay did timber hew, - Or piled up clay or pebble, - Or hoisted load with strain and heft, - Or grained a door with fingers deft - And listless thoughts, but, hope-bereft, - At heart was half a rebel. - - [Illustration] - - - - - II.--THE COUNCIL - - [Illustration] - - - So, after setting of a sun, - When all their day’s long coil was done, - And dew on gossamer-threads late-spun - Beneath the moonbeams trembled, - Called to a chosen meeting-place, - Without the Town a frog-leap’s space, - To talk about their evil case - The Elfin folk assembled. - - ’Twas in good sooth a sight forlorn - To see them fagged and labour-worn, - Their dainty garments stained and torn, - Forms bowed with weary stooping; - Most like a bed of windflowers frail, - What time a shower of pelting hail - Hath smirched with mould the petals pale - And left the bruised stalks drooping. - - And as when ruffling breeze-wafts go, - Now sighing loud, now moaning low, - -[Illustration] - - Among the shivering blossoms, so - Among the Elves upstarted - A wail of voices small and shrill, - That swelled and sank commingled, still - Lamenting o’er their present ill - Or ancient bliss departed. - - First Elfrain, for his silvern tongue - Renowned his Faery feres among, - Upon a fallen beech-nut sprung, - Spake clear, while hushed they hearkened: - “It little needs, ye Elves” (he said), - “To bid you ’ware the direful dread, - By gathering glooms and shadows spread, - Wherewith our days are darkened. - - “But, since a shadow’s curse is e’er - The eyes to blind and feet to snare, - That else a path would find and fare - From forth its grim embrasure, - Behoves us seek from whence they flit, - These shades that on our lives have lit, - For so, perchance, a way we hit, - Back to the beamy azure. - - “Then, prithee, freeborn Fays and Elves, - Here let us pause and ask ourselves - Why this one hews, why that one delves, - Finch waking, chafer whirring. - What graceless freak of spiteful change - Hath o’er us wound these fetters strange, - Who wont down all the dells to range - Unchecked as breeze’s stirring? - - “What joy have ye to cleave the clod, - Or mortar bear in chickpea hod, - Or down the creaking cart-track plod, - Or up the ladder dizzy? - Nay, daubed with clay, and grimed with dust, - This piteous plight declares ye must - Lament the charge upon you thrust - That makes you bondslaves busy. - - “Where now be flown the mirthful hours - Ye fleeted by in blossomy bowers? - Soft sleep at core of scented flowers, - Gay sports on greensward airy? - Why fail your feasts, why flag your flights, - Your morrice-dance on moonlit nights? - Have these things now no more delights - For heart of woodland Faery? - - “But if one saith: ‘The King commands - This irksome service at our hands, - And Oberon’s will no Fay withstands, - Lest traitorous act accuse him’-- - To such: The ancient laws (I say), - Thro’ which our monarch holds his sway, - Point duly where we must obey, - And where, unblamed, refuse him. - - “Since for this cause we crowned his head: - That long as Elfin sports be sped, - He still should rule the maze we tread, - When every Faery traces - On dew-sprent turf the emerald ring; - Even as the planet lamps that swing - In shimmering cirques around _their_ King, - Far up heaven’s star-strown spaces. - - “Hence, if for us he prove indeed - No sun-bright orb our step to lead, - But Jack-o’-lantern’s goblin glede, - That traveller’s foot betrayeth, - Shall we our lightsome paths forsake - Thro’ bogs to err and briery brake, - Where thorn-pricks thrust and quagmires quake, - Lured as his false gleam playeth? - - “Yea, of the King I ask: To thee - Were given for lieges Faeries free, - Or creeping things whose toil we see - By niggard Nature spurred on? - They twist the thread, they store the grain, - And thus, at least, their portion gain; - Whilst us thou biddest to struggles vain - That win nor gift nor guerdon. - - “Yet, furthermore, and haply first - In import grave: some spell accurst, - Methinks, this troublous toiler’s-thirst - Thus in our King sets burning; - For I long since have deemed to mark - Flash from his eye a fitful spark, - Enkindled by those sorceries dark - That steal the wits’ discerning. - - “How else should he, who erst had known - Fair mansions in fresh flower-buds blown, - His dwelling choose of stock and stone, - Coarse clay, and cobweb flimsy? - Yon piles uncouth, whereon we have wrought - Thro’ weary workdays, seem they aught - Save folly planned by one distraught - With some fantastic whimsy? - - “Now, by the Night-bat’s shriek! full loth - Were I to slight my deep-sworn oath, - Or hear it said that I for sloth - Mine owed allegiance scanted; - But, tho’ I bide such slanders ill, - I less could brook the Fay-folk still - Enslaved to work the warlock’s will - Who hath our King enchanted.” - - Thus he; and thro’ his hearers went - Deep murmurs, as when hearts assent - To words that voice their discontent, - Long felt but lowly muttered. - And Elfdore from among them next - Arose, his gentle spirit vext, - And much with jarring griefs perplext, - As mournful speech he uttered: - - “Ay me, what stinging thoughts awoke - Like ray-warmed flies, while Elfrain spoke, - And told the wrongs of Faery-folk, - And sorer ills that threat them; - And, keenlier thrilling, called to mind - Those days ere yet our bliss declined-- - Lost days, tho’ far they lag behind, - What Elf can once forget them? - - “Your heaviest task to plot some prank, - Your dullest hour blithe pastimes shrank; - With sun that rose, and sun that sank, - No Faery’s gladness vanished. - But very vainly lend I speech - To loud-voiced woes; this truth can teach, - In few, what dismal tracts we reach, - From former weal far-banished: - - “That, when our green-ywimpled wood, - Like moss-rose reddening thro’ her hood, - Lets vermeil dawn a path make good - Where many a dim shade drowseth, - No more, as once, its burgeoning light - Seems flower-soft balm to Elfin sight, - But signal-fire that weary wight - To loathëd labour rouseth. - - “And when the West’s curved crystalline - Pales, over-brimmed with silvern shine, - Pure water poured where blush-tinct wine - The rubied rim was crowning, - Naught heeding save our hardship’s case, - We only sigh: ‘Ebb, light, apace, - And leave our cares a little space - In dreamless slumber drowning.’ - - “Then, since, of Elfin frolic stripped, - In slavish bonds our days are clipped, - Scarce save in sleep-whelmed pauses slipped, - Blank silence, whither fleeing - From senses’ dole to senses’ dearth - We respite seek--holds life its worth? - What joy were minished on the earth - If Faeries ceased from being? - -[Illustration: - -_Copyright 1894 by Macmillan & Co._] - - “And not on you alone this yoke - Of bondage falls; an humbler folk - May rue the hour when trowel’s stroke - First tinkled clinking yonder; - Our fellow-wights of feature quaint, - Now captived, maugre plea and plaint, - To drudge for us; whose harsh constraint - I oft remorseful ponder. - - “My heart grows hot when yearnings vain - Dumb in the draught-ant’s eyes speak plain, - For comrades’ blithesome bustle fain, - Amid their garnered treasure. - And ruth and wrath will thro’ me throb - To hear the unsightly Spider sob, - When from her loom the weft we rob, - Wove with such pride and pleasure. - - “And still when harnessed Snail or Slug - I watch the hated wain-load tug, - Or Beetle gross down ruts deep-dug - Hath past me, panting, lumbered, - Reproachful twinges wring my mind, - For so we twofold burdens bind - On creatures whom, thro’ Fate unkind, - Unwieldy frames have cumbered. - - “Yet, if, irate at wrongs of these, - To rebel thoughts I turn for ease, - I fare as foot that nettle flees, - But which barbed thistle lameth; - So shrewd a thorn-pang pierced my breast - What time I heard an Elf suggest - That Fays should scorn their King’s behest - Since overmuch he claimeth. - - “For, tho’ mine ire mount ne’er so high, - Let Oberon but anon draw nigh - With joyful mien and sparkling eye, - Our bootless tasks admiring, - And, doubting naught of hearers glad, - Begin to tell new projects mad-- - Tall towers to raise, long rows to add, - All Elfland’s strength requiring, - - “Then, wistful, pause my face to scan - And read approval of his plan - Trow, if for very ruth I can - There brook him vainly seek it. - Nay, if I knew one word whose might - Could all his hopes forbid and blight, - Loose Elfdom’s chains, and crush his sprite, - In truth ’twere hard to speak it. - - “But for the cause that Elfrain deems - Hath crazed the King with waking dreams, - A Wizard, who our ruin schemes - With arts beyond our foiling; - So fell a thought I dare not think - That leadeth to a misery’s brink, - Wherefrom my frighted fancies shrink - In anguish back recoiling. - - “Our case my counsel mocks. I rede - We Elfmel call, and straitly heed - The word he speaks; for if, indeed, - Dark Fate, a cure thou shroudest, - His wisdom shall that cure surprise.” - Then all around rang eager cries: - “Let Elfmel speak--let him advise”-- - And he, at clamour’s loudest, - Stood forth upon the beechen stage; - Not old, for Faeries know not age, - But past his peers reputed sage, - Such fame his wit achieveth; - True to the mark his winged words went, - Sure as a well-poised arrow sent, - Yet clear to show their thought’s intent - As air that arrow cleaveth: - - “Lo, Elfrain’s guess, and Elfdore’s dread, - I long have known for truth” (he said); - “No mortal guile the snare hath spread - Where Oberon lies entangled; - Nor lives who thus awry could twitch - His sense, or fool to such a pitch, - Save one alone, the Bad Brown Witch. - Aye plotting ills new-fangled. - - “And, wot ye well, if aught avail - To countercharm her magic’s bale, - Whose mischief sore we so bewail, - Plunged in this dire quandáry, - ’Tis aid no mortal power can lend; - One only may her marring mend-- - The Good Gray Witch, a faithful friend - Oft proved to folk of Faery. - - “Yet, he who would her pity awake, - A perilous path must undertake, - For far beside her Lonesome Lake - A slumbrous trance hath bound her, - Where evermore a silence deep, - Like trusty sentinel, must keep - Mute watch to guard the sevenfold sleep - That laps its dreams around her. - - “The first fold shade or shine ne’er crossed; - Beyond the next each sound fails lost; - The third fends off both fire and frost, - How fierce so e’er their noyance; - The fourth shrouds safe from fear and fret; - The fifth bars memory and regret; - Keen ire and scorn the sixth can let, - The seventh all hope and joyance. - - “Still may her helpful might be sought, - Still may her ruthful heart be raught, - Albeit by steps with peril fraught, - Down dim paths danger-ridden; - Yea, long-conned mage-lore yields me arms - Can pierce her sleep; right awesome charms, - That, save for cure of grievous harms, - To utter I am forbidden. - - “And erst deemed I that haply soon, - As film-flakes floating by the moon - Steeped in her frosted fire-flood swoon, - And one brief moment dim it, - Even so from us our cares might drift - Fleeting and fading soft and swift; - But nay; their pall shows never a rift, - Their shade-sweep never a limit. - - “And therefore now, ye Fays, I feel - ’Tis time to her we make appeal - For help that Oberon’s hurt shall heal, - And lure him from his madness; - And list ye on this mission trust - My zeal and truth, her power august - Will I beseech, till yield it must - A boon to work us gladness.” - - Then, like the hum as poised bee swoops - To gold-domed gloom where flower-bell droops, - The voice of clustering Elfin groups - Rose up, his speech approving; - And cried that in such embassage - No worthier Elf could e’er engage; - And bade him speed the task whose wage - Should be their woe’s removing. - - [Illustration] - - - - - III.--THE FLITTING - - [Illustration] - - - Hence, when the dawn looked dewiest, - Forth Elfmel fared on fateful quest, - Alone, so ran the charm’s behest, - While still the King lay dreaming; - But--since his se’ennight’s peril dared - Were long to tell--he home repaired - When Elfintown at sunset flared, - With roofs and windows gleaming. - - He came, in sooth, at time of need, - Because the King had just decreed - A task that should all tasks exceed - Which yet the Fays had sighed o’er: - A monstrous tower, ne’er seen its like, - Whose crest should seem the clouds to strike, - And even the loftiest plantain-spike - Peer in prodigious pride o’er. - - Not empty-handed Elfmel came: - A mirror wan in dark-wove frame - The Witch had sent, and o’er the same - Breathed many a murmur mystic; - In size it matched the rain-drop pearled - At broadest blade-point; round it curled - Stag-beetle’s antler, carved and whirled - With sentence Kabalistic. - - The which, if hung ere fall of night - Near Oberon’s couch, by subtle sleight - Of maker’s craft, and magic’s might, - Would show him such a vision - As must his frenzy scare away: - “Ay, stranger secrets ’twill bewray,” - Quoth she; yet more she would not say, - But sped the Elf on his mission. - - This Elfmel did anon relate - To his comrades, met in grave debate, - Who joyed to learn their evil estate - Might now eftsoons be mended. - And twain in haste by secret stair - To Oberon’s bower the mirror-bare, - What time he bode all unaware - Of aught his Elves intended. - - Methinks when dimness round them closed, - The weariest Fay but seldom dozed, - For new-blown glee with morn-flush rosed - The drift of night’s pale lily; - Or hope and fear, like boisterous breeze - Whereon the fluttering petal flees, - Frayed sleep, that loves on hearts at ease - To light and linger stilly. - -[Illustration] - - Some soft as drowsy finches sung: - “Oh sweet, ye Fays, our lawns among - To fleet fair days, from dawn’s flame sprung - Till night star-bright,” they twittered; - While others kept a mien more grave, - For somewhat still their minds misgave - That care so blithe an end should have - Which long their lives embittered. - - But all, thro’ hopes and fears, watched fain - To see red light the east distain, - That Oberon should rouse again - From slumbers gramarie-haunted; - For then they must behold a sign - If verily to that spell benign - The Bad Brown Witch’s power malign - Had yielded, quelled and daunted. - - And ’mid the mists of morning-tide - Thronged to the Palace court they hied; - And, lo, the massy door flung wide, - And Oberon thro’ it pacing. - Sad was his look, as if he grieved - Of long-deluding hope bereaved, - Or fairest myth, too much believed, - Truth-touched with finger effacing. - - Forth paced he to as mute a hush - As falls upon the twittering bush - Whence titmice watch the missel-thrush, - Their motley tyrant, coming; - For never a Fay durst move, in fear - Lest haply so should fail his ear - The words he held his breath to hear - Above his heart’s thick drumming. - - Nor any sound from earth or sky - That silence flawed, save if thereby - A restive Earwig, stalled anigh, - Stamped foot and tugged at tether; - Or shrilled a sharper note than that - Where overhead a gaunt-limbed Gnat, - Perched on a neighbouring roof-ridge, sat - And twirled lean legs together. - - “Strange tidings unto you I bring, - My faithful Fays,” so spake the King - “For in this night a wondrous thing - Was shown me as I slumbered; - A wondrous thing and piteous both, - For against itself my heart grows wroth - To think how I have abused your troth, - And worked you woes unnumbered. - - “Yea, bitter ’tis, since now my brain - No longer reels thro’ sorcery’s bane, - To trace these tracks of labour vain, - This witless work to gaze on; - Yon cumbrous heaps of stones and stocks - Seem filled for me with flouts and mocks, - As if all round on boards and blocks - I read my folly’s blazon. - - “Yet bitterer far to feel the while - That every huge-erected pile - Rose inch by inch with drudgery vile - From Elfin race exacted. - And who your freedom’s traitorous thief? - Ah, who but I, your chosen chief? - Nay, think not I, but frenzy brief - Of mind with charms distracted. - - “And now the night-sent sign, that snaps - This witch-knot black, the mist unwraps - Wherein Fate hid our future haps, - And me its portent teacheth - ’Tis fit that yet one further task - I of your tried allegiance ask-- - I truly; ’tis no warlock’s mask - That here your aid beseecheth: - - “I charge you that forthright ye haste - To lay this cursëd city waste; - Let wall be breached, and site erased, - Pluck down both roof and rafter; - Leave not a stone on stone to stand; - Ne’er shall your monarch, by this hand! - Of Faery folk such toils demand - In all the ages after.” - - Thereat uprose a jubilant shout - From all who hearkened round about, - For so they knew beyond a doubt - King Oberon’s craze departed. - “Swift be the King’s command obeyed, - Then hence” (they cried), “to greenwood glade, - Where Elves, as liked them best estrayed, - Whilom have ranged light-hearted.” - - But Oberon, still of mien deject, - Their strain exultant heard and checked - With lifted palm and pale aspect, - That motioned silence thro’ them. - -[Illustration: - -_Copyright 1894 by Macmillan & Co._] - - “Not so,” spake he in accents grave, - “No more for us the deep woods wave, - Tho’ dear the home their greenery gave, - Tho’ long our hearts may rue them; - - “Tho’ fain were I, if this might be, - Down yon cool shades all care to flee, - And very fain would watch your glee - Wax as in good days golden-- - For, lo, the dream, whose power undid - That ill witch-charm, a secret hid, - Which hath, while fouler harm it rid, - So fair a hope withholden. - - “Mark well, ye Fays: In years long fled, - When Earthland first felt Elfin tread-- - But whence, or how, or why we sped, - I wot our wisest knows not-- - The Fate who did our journeyings guide - Ne’er destined that, whate’er betide, - This ball must aye our dwelling bide, - A prison whose doors unclose not. - - “That weird-night’s vision warns me so-- - Had meshed us soon in webs of woe, - Whence Fate hath willed we free should go, - Long since to me confiding - The word whereby, if need befal, - Aërial chariots I may call, - Mage-fashioned, meet to waft us all - Up ways heaven’s vault dividing. - - “Yet here so long, so blithe, we dwelled, - So dear our haunts by flood and feld, - That evermore I hoped and held - Such word need ne’er be spoken, - Now from me wrung by darkening doom, - As menace-murk of thunder-gloom - Bids shun hurled bolt and bellowing boom - Ere yet the storm hath broken. - - “No plainer speech my lips dare frame; - But, soothly, had ye seen the same, - Each idle moment would ye blame - That us from flight doth sever, - Not loitering o’er what rests to do - Ere hence we float up yonder blue, - Self-exiled from the paths we knew-- - For ever and for ever.” - - I trow that every Fay who heard - Was grieved at heart by Oberon’s word, - Yet none lamented, none demurred, - Or against his will besought him; - For in his steadfast-mournful eyne - They could some fatal truth divine, - Tho’ none might know what boding sign - To stern resolve had wrought him. - - And ’tis a riddle still ungues’t - What vision from that mirror’s breast - Was flashed athwart King Oberon’s rest, - So filled with fear and wonder. - Some say that unto him were shown - Days when round earth, once green and lone, - Shall whirl with cities all o’ergrown, - No Elf-ring’s circle asunder; - And say he saw or ever he woke - High heaven blurred out with riftless smoke, - Where men ground down ’neath labour’s yoke - Toil to the mad wheel’s thunder; - World weeded o’er from prime to prime - With want, and woe, and care, and crime, - Unmeet to tell in Faery rime, - That halts such burden under. - - Howbeit, the Elves in eager crowd - Made haste to raze those mansions proud; - Anon the rill-cliffs echoed loud - To crash of timbers falling, - As toppling towers at onslaught rude - Reeled down in wrack, and street-rows strewed - Their swift-wrought ruin, whence captives shrewd - Slipped homeward, warily crawling. - - Till soon, if wanderer chanced to fare - Across that earth-patch smooth and bare, - He spied no Elfin doings there, - And only heard a rustle - Where shrivelled leaves their serest brown - Thro’ Autumn mists had drifted down. - This was the end of Elfintown, - Built with such coil and bustle. - - Then Oberon spake the word of might - That set the enchanted cars in sight; - But lore I lack to tell aright - -[Illustration: - -_Copyright 1894 by Macmillan & Co._] - - Where these had waited hidden. - Perchance the clear airs round us rolled - In secret cells did them enfold, - Like evening dew that none behold - Till to the sward ’tis slidden. - - And who can say what wizardise - Had fashioned them in marvellous wise, - And given them power to stoop and rise - More high than thought hath travelled? - Somewhat of cloud their frames consist, - But more of meteor’s luminous mist, - All girt with strands of seven-hued twist - From rainbow’s verge unravelled. - - ’Tis said, and I believe it well, - That whoso mounts their magic sell, - Goes, if he list, invisible - Beneath the broadest noonlight; - That virtue comes of Faery-fern, - Lone-lived where hill-slopes starward turn - Thro’ frore night hours that bid it burn - Flame-fronded in the moonlight; - - For this holds true--too true, alas!-- - The sky that eve was clear as glass, - Yet no man saw the Faeries pass - Where azure pathways glisten; - And true it is--too true, ay me-- - That nevermore on lawn or lea - Shall mortal man a Faery see, - Tho’ long he look and listen. - - Only the twilit woods among - A wild-winged breeze hath sometimes flung - Dim echoes borne from strains soft-sung - Beyond sky-reaches hollow; - Still further, fainter up the height, - Receding past the deep-zoned night-- - Far chant of Fays who lead that flight, - Faint call of Fays who follow: - - (_Fays following._) Red-rose mists o’erdrift - Moth-moon’s glimmering white, - Lit by sheen-silled west - Barred with fiery bar; - Fleeting, following swift, - Whither across the night - Seek we bourne of rest? - (_Fays leading._) Afar. - - (_Fays following._) Vailing crest on crest - Down the shadowy height, - Earth with shores and seas - Dropt, a dwindling gleam. - Dusk, and bowery nest, - Dawn, and dells dew-bright, - What shall bide of these? - (_Fays leading._) A dream. - - (_Fays following._) Fled, ah fled, our sight. - Yea, but thrills of fire - Throbbed adown yon deep, - Faint and very far - Who shall rede aright? - Say, what wafts us nigher, - Beckoning up the steep? - (_Fays leading._) A star. - - (_Fays following._) List, a star! a star! - Oh, our goal of light! - Yet the winged shades sweep, - Yet the void looms vast. - Weary our wild dreams are: - When shall cease our flight - Soft on shores of sleep? - (_Fays leading._) At last. - - [Illustration] - - [Illustration] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE END OF ELFINTOWN *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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