"Lady fair,
Swan-white,
Lift thine eyes
Banish night
By the might
Of thine eyes.
Snowy arms,
Oars of snow,
Oar her hither,
Plashing low.
Soft and slow,
Oar her hither.
Stream behind her
O'er the lake,
Radiant whiteness!
In her wake
Following, following for her sake,
Radiant whiteness!
Cling about her,
Waters blue;
Part not from her,
But renew
Cold and true
Kisses round her.
Lap me round,
Waters sad
That have left her;
Make me glad,
For ye had
Kissed her ere ye left her."
Before he had finished his song, the princess was just under the place
where he sat, and looking up to find him. Her ears had led her truly.
"Would you like a fall, princess?" said the prince, looking down.
"Ah! there you are! Yes, if you please, prince," said the princess,
looking up.
"How do you know I am a prince, princess?" said the prince.
"Because you are a very nice young man, prince," said the princess.
"Come up then, princess."
"Fetch me, prince."
The prince took off his scarf, then his sword-belt, then his tunic, and
tied them all together, and let them down. But the line was far too
short. He unwound his turban, and added it to the rest, when it was all
but long enough; and his purse completed it. The princess just managed
to lay hold of the knot of money, and was beside him in a moment. This
rock was much higher than the other, and the splash and the dive were
tremendous. The princess was in ecstasies of delight, and their swim
was delicious.
Night after night they met, and swam about in the dark clear lake;
where such was the prince's gladness, that (whether the princess's way
of looking at things infected him, or he was actually getting
light-headed) he often fancied that he was swimming in the sky instead
of the lake. But when he talked about being in heaven, the princess
laughed at him dreadfully.
When the moon came, she brought them fresh pleasure. Everything looked
strange and new in her light, with an old, withered, yet unfading
newness. When the moon was nearly full, one of their great delights
was, to dive deep in the water, and then, turning round, look up
through it at the great blot of light close above them, shimmering and
trembling and wavering, spreading and contracting, seeming to melt
away, and again grow solid. Then they would shoot up through the blot;
and lo! there was the moon, far off, clear and steady and cold, and
very lovely, at the bottom of a deeper and bluer lake than theirs, as
the princess said.
The prince soon found out that while in the water the princess was very
like other people. And besides this, she was not so forward in her
questions or pert in her replies at sea as on shore. Neither did she
laugh so much; and when she did laugh, it was more gently. She seemed
altogether more modest and maidenly in the water than out of it. But
when the prince, who had really fallen in love when he fell in the
lake, began to talk to her about love, she always turned her head
towards him and laughed. After a while she began to look puzzled, as if
she were trying to understand what he meant, but could not--revealing a
notion that he meant something. But as soon as ever she left the lake,
she was so altered, that the prince said to himself, "If I marry her, I
see no help for it: we must turn merman and mermaid, and go out to sea
at once."