In the very deepest part of the Atlantic Ocean, directly under the
Equator, Neptune, the Sovereign of the Seas, once held his regal court.
His palace was of vast dimensions, capable of holding all the Ocean
Spirits, the rulers and guardians of the realms of water below, and of
all the islands which adorn its surface. Its outside was composed of
huge black rocks piled up like mountains, one upon another, and covered
with dark masses of seaweed, which, floating upward, appeared like a
forest of trees, of a growth far more gigantic than the earth can
produce, and yet it seemed but like lichens growing on the roof of a
house in comparison with the size of the edifice. The inside was more
magnificent than mortal eye has ever seen. There was one vast hall,
pervaded by a green yet clear light, which came from above, and
increased the grandeur and solemnity which reigned around. To say that
the walls were of red coral and immense shells, each of which was as
large as many a vessel which floats on the ocean, while pearls of
surpassing brilliancy and whiteness were interspersed among them, and
that the roof was of crystal of gorgeous tinge, can in no way picture
the surpassing magnificence of the structure. At one end was a lofty
throne, proportioned to the size of the building, of jet-black rock,
glittering with that gold which the toil of man had won from the bowels
of the earth, but which his carelessness had lost in the stormy sea. It
was surrounded by many thousand other thrones, the seats of Neptune's
vassal Spirits--his Governors, Tritons, and other attendants. It must
be understood that, once upon a time, whatever may now be the case,
every fish which swims, every insect which crawls in the sea, had its
governor and king. The largest was the King of the Whales. He was a
vast monster of dark form, whose dwelling was in the regions of icebergs
and glaciers at the North Pole. The fiercest was the King of the
Sharks; he had sharp teeth, and eyes full of malignancy and hatred to
the human race. He was the most wicked of all the Spirits. The fastest
and most beautiful was the King of the Dolphins; the most unwieldy the
King of the Porpoises; the ugliest the King of the Cat-fish; and the
tallest the King of the Big Sea Serpents--for they all partook somewhat
of the forms of the fish over whom they were placed to govern. Their
thrones, too, were of appropriate forms; some sat on huge sea-eggs,
others on shells. The King of the Whales sat on an iceberg, but the
King of the Big Sea Serpents was obliged to twist himself in and out
about the pillars of the hall to find room for his long body. It is
impossible to describe their vast mysterious forms, shrouded as they
were in their dark-green mantles of vapours and obscurity.
That portion of the Pacific Ocean in which the Island of Gracia is
situated was ruled over by a sea spirit of the name of Borasco. As he
was not the king of any particular fish (indeed, he was superior in
power to most of them), his appearance was a mixture of many. His body
was covered with scales, and from his back mighty wings projected, to
aid him in his flight across the ocean, while his feet were like those
of a seal; his eyes were large, fierce, and glowing; his mouth had large
tusks, and on either side were black bunches, like the feelers of a
walrus. On his head grew masses of long hair, like seaweed, streaming
in the wind; while his arms and hands had more the appearance of the
claws of a shell-fish than of anything else; at the same time that his
vast size, and the indistinctness which surrounded him, gave to his
appearance a grandeur which partook more of the terrific than the
hideous. Borasco had a palace which might vie in magnificence and
beauty, though not in size, with that of Neptune. One day he sallied
forth, and mounting his prancing steed, which was a huge wave with a
foaming crest, he rode furiously off, as he was accustomed to do, over
the ocean. The water roared and hissed, the mid wind howled, as,
shouting loudly with a voice like thunder, onward he went in his fierce
career; and these were the words he uttered:--
"I'm a wandering spirit where rolls the broad sea,
For no bonds, for no bonds, can e'er fetter me:
My steed is a wave, with a white crest of foam,
Which gallantly bears me wherever I roam;
Lashed to fury, he dashes the waters on high,
As bounding he lifts his proud head to the sky.
Oh! no charger of earth can so rapidly flee,
While no bonds, while no bonds, can e'er fetter me.
"I fly on the tempest while loud shrieks are heard,
And more shrilly I cry than the roaming sea-bird:
When rocks are resounding with ocean's loud roar,
And forms are rebounding, pale waifs on the shore--
When barks are deserted to roam o'er the waves,
And mortals are hurled unprepared to their graves--
Then, then is the time I shriek loudest with glee,
And no bonds are so strong they can e'er fetter me.
"My hair, the thick mist or the wild-driving snow,
All wildly floats round when the northern blasts blow;
My breath's in the whirlwind, my voice in the clouds,
And night, as a mantle, my stern visage shrouds.
The vivid fork'd lightnings which dart from mine eyes
Flash fearfully over the dark low'ring skies:
Oh! then my wild voice is heard shouting with glee,
As I ride o'er the boundless and fathomless sea."
On, on he flew, terror before him, devastation in his rear; the
footsteps of his steed, the dark furrows of the foaming waves; his track
marked by the shattered wrecks of the hapless barks over which he
passed, till at length he reached the Island of Gracia, his strength
exhausted and his fury assuaged. He gazed, delighted, on its smooth
yellow sands, sparkling in the beams of the sun, its cool and waving
groves giving forth their rich perfumes, and resounding with the
harmonious notes of their feathered denizens; its smiling hills, its
green meadows, and the thousand beauties of the landscape before him.
The light spray, tinted with the varied hues of the rainbow, played
round his mysterious form, as his steed, with a loud roar with echoed
from rock to rock, receding towards the ocean, left him standing on the
shore.
Wildly throwing his arms around, he shook the water from his robe,
which, as it fell, appeared like the spray from some mighty cataract,
and then, reclining beneath the shade of an overhanging rock, he
stretched forth his huge limbs, and, calmed by the fragrant air and the
tranquillity of the scene, he slept.
Tempted by the beauty of the evening, after the fierce storm which had
raged all day, the Princess Serena and a troop of youthful maidens took
their way to the sea-shore. For a time they sang and sported in
exuberance of spirits; then they formed a circle and danced around their
mistress; then they bound her hair with bright flowers, and decked her
neck with softly-tinted shells, and then, hand-in-hand, they ran towards
the water; now they retired, and now advanced, uttering peals of
laughter, as the bright waves rippled over their feet. At last one,
more daring, rushed into the sea; others followed, and as they threw
about the sparkling spray in mimic fight, the rocks and woods echoed
with their merriment.
The sounds reached the ears of the sleeping Borasco. He awoke, and
rising, listened, when, advancing from among the rocks which had
hitherto concealed him, he suddenly appeared before the eyes of the
astonished maidens. No sooner did they see the monster, than with
shrieks of terror they fled into the woods, forgetting even the
Princess--or, rather, they thought she was flying with them.
Instead of flying, however, she stood entranced with horror, her feet
refusing to move, and her eyes fixed on the hideous being before her.
Borasco gazed at the Princess with deep admiration. Neither on the sea
nor under the sea had he ever in all his wanderings beheld anything to
be compared to her in beauty. Feelings totally strange and new to him
rushed like a torrent into his bosom.
The purest and most exalted love took possession of his soul; horror,
disgust, and loathing, were the feelings most powerful in the breast of
the Princess as she beheld him. At length, forgetting the hideousness
of his shape, and the natural repugnance she must have felt for him, he
advanced towards her to address her. "Beautiful creature!" he exclaimed
in a voice as loud as thunder--"What are you? Whence come you?" No
sooner did he speak than the spell was broken, and with a cry of fear
she fled away from him as fleetly as a startled fawn.
Her voice and action would have convinced an ordinary mortal that he had
no hope of gaining her affections. Not so the Spirit of the Storm.
"Stay, sweet being! oh, stay and listen to me!" he repeated, but the
words only hastened her flight. He gazed after her till she
disappeared, and when he found that it was useless to follow, and that
there was not the remotest chance of her returning, he sat himself down
on a rock which hung over the sea to consider what he should do. As he
sat, the water became perfectly calm as a glass mirror; and looking into
it, after some minutes' deep meditation he beheld the reflection of his
own monstrous form. He had been so long accustomed to look at Tritons,
and other sea spirits as hideous as himself, that he was not aware how
ugly he was. Now, with grief at his heart, he at once saw the
difference between the Princess Serena and himself. His late exposure
to the sun had not added to his beauty, for his hands and arms and the
top of his head had become red, while the anguish he was suffering
increased the wild expression of his countenance.
With good reason, he was at length very nearly giving way to despair.
"Alas! unhappy spirit that I am," he cried, "why did I look at that
mortal maiden? Why do I long for what is beyond my reach? Why am I not
content with the enjoyment proper to my own fierce nature? Alas! this
new feeling overpowers me, and a delicate maiden has enslaved the mighty
Borasco." While he was speaking a sound reached his ears. He knew it
well, for it was the summons to Neptune's conclave. "Ah!" he exclaimed,
"I will consult King Neptune, and ask his aid. If any one can help me,
he can, to win the heart of that lovely damsel.
"And now my bold steed, with the white-flowing crest,
Come hither, come hither, arouse thee from rest.
Oh! what courser like thee can so rapidly bound,
When I mount thee to ride o'er the waters profound?
Then haste, my brave steed, again hie to me,
And together once more we will range o'er the sea."
While he was uttering these words, a mighty wave rolled in towards the
shore. Leaping on it, away he went over the ocean at a rapid rate,
leaving in his track a line of glittering foam, till he reached the
centre of the Atlantic, over the palace of Neptune--then down, down he
descended, till he entered the gateway of its rocky halls.