great-grandson of the King who was deposed.”
“Is this true, mother?” asked Ardram.
“Perfectly true,” she replied, producing the crown. “Here is the royal
crown; you are the real King, but I did not dare to tell you till the
Faery Rosina gave me permission.”
“And I waited till now because I wanted you to marry the Princess Rose,”
said the faery, as Ardram placed the crown on his head. “The Princess is
enchanted, and turns into a rose every night, so in order to break the
spell she must marry you.”
“When?” asked both lovers together.
“Now,” said the faery, and, touching Ardram’s dress, it changed into
beautiful royal robes all of gold, and at the same moment the
Rose-Princess appeared dressed in wedding garments, with her crown of
silver and diamonds on her head. The organ rolled out a bridal march,
and the priests came forth in a long procession. In a few minutes the
Princess Rose was married to Ardram, and then her silver crown rolled
off.
“You must not wear silver any more,” said the faery, “because the spell
is now broken, and you will never change to a rosebud again.”
So saying, she touched the Rose-Princess’s head with her wand, and
immediately there appeared a beautiful golden crown, as gorgeous as that
worn by Ardram.
“Now you are King and Queen,” said Rosina graciously, “so you will go to
the palace and govern wisely.”
“Oh yes, we will,” cried the new King and Queen joyfully and then they
kissed one another as they stood in their royal crowns and splendid
garments before the great altar.
“But what is to become of us?” said the old King and Queen.
“You are not fit to govern,” said the faery severely, “and only care for
pleasure, so you will go away to the other end of the kingdom, to a city
of your own, where the people are as fond of pleasure as you are, and
there you will be happy.”
“Nonsense!” said the King.
“Pooh!” replied the Queen.
Nevertheless, both of them were secretly very delighted, as they would
now be able to enjoy themselves as they pleased. Then the faery ordered
the doors of the cathedral to be thrown wide open, the organ played a
triumphal march, and the new King and Queen walked slowly down the
church, looking the handsomest couple in the world. The gruff doctor and
the old mother followed, but the deposed King and Queen had vanished
with the Faery Rosina, who transported them to their own city, where
they ruled and enjoyed themselves for many years.
Then all the people in the city saw the new King and Queen standing
before them with their royal crowns, and the bells rang, the streets
were made clear again, and as the young couple moved through the crowd,
which strewed flowers before them, the people cried,—
“Long live King Ardram and Queen Rose!”
And the Rose-Princess never changed into a flower again, but became a
true, loving wife to the King, who ruled well and wisely, for he had
seen the hardships of his subjects when he was a poor student. They
reigned long and happily, and had many children, but in all their
prosperity the Queen never forgot how she had been an enchanted
Rose-Princess.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
SORROW-SINGING
[Illustration: ONE BRIGHT SUMMER’S NIGHT A NUMBER OF FAERIES FLEW INTO
THE ROOM]
THERE was once a poor woman who lived in a little village many, many
years ago, when the world was much younger than it is now, and when the
destinies of mortals were often controlled by the faeries. This woman,
whose name was Eldina, had lost her husband, who had fallen in a great
battle while fighting the enemies of his king, and a month after she
heard of his death, Eldina became the mother of a beautiful little son,
which event was a great comfort to her.
The truth was that, seeing she was so miserable and lonely since the
death of her husband, the kind faeries had given her this little baby to
cheer her heart, and when it was born they took it under their own
special protection. It was necessary to inform Eldina of this, so one
bright summer’s night a number of faeries flew into the room where the
child was lying and stood in a circle round the cradle.
Eldina was engaged in some household work, but having faery blood in her
veins, she had a very delicate sense of hearing, and immediately knew by
the rustle of the faeries’ wings that they had arrived. She made herself
neat and clean to do honour to her illustrious visitors, and went into
the room to hear what they had to say about the child.
The cradle was quite covered with the most lovely flowers, which the
enchantments of the faeries had caused to bloom on the brick floor of
the cottage, and in the centre of the exquisite blossoms slept the
smiling baby, on whose face shone a bright moonbeam.
[Illustration]
“Eldina,” said the Faery Titania, who is Queen of the Faeries, “we have
come to bestow our gifts upon your child, whom we have taken under our
special protection—is there any gift you would like him to possess?”
“Yes, your Majesty,” cried Eldina eagerly; “the gift of happiness.”
All the faeries looked grave at this request, and a sigh sounded through
the room, while Titania gazed sadly on the child.
“We cannot give happiness,” she said sorrowfully. “Every mortal can only
find happiness in his own actions, but we will do the best we can—I will
give the child the gift of song, which is the greatest of all gifts.”
So saying, she touched the child’s lips with her wand, and retired,
while the Faery Laurina stepped forward with a wreath of laurel leaves.
“I give this child the gift of fame,” she said, placing the laurel
wreath on the baby’s head; “his songs will make him famous throughout
the world.”
“From me he receives the gift of beauty,” cried another faery, whose
name was Venusina.
“From me the gift of wisdom,” said the Faery Minervetta.
“From me the gift of a kind heart,” observed a smiling fay, who had kind
blue eyes.
Then all the other faeries bestowed their gifts in turn—wealth, honour,
grandeur, cleverness, strength. Everything that human beings most desire
was given to this lucky baby, on whom the name of Lanis was now bestowed
by the universal voice of all the faeries present.
“All these are beautiful gifts,” said Eldina, weeping, although she half
smiled through her tears, “but they do not bring happiness.”
“They bring happiness if wisely used,” cried Titania.
“Then give him the power to use them wisely,” pleaded the poor mother.
“We cannot—we cannot,” sighed the faeries; “the power rests with
himself.”
“Will he never find happiness?” cried Eldina in despair.
“Yes, when he arrives at the Kingdom of Shadows, and enters it through
the golden gate.”
“But how will he find the golden gate?”
“By being a good man. If he misuses his gifts and becomes wicked, he
will go through the iron gate into the Kingdom of Fire.”
Then the beams of the moon grew brighter, until the whole chamber glowed
with silver light, and the faeries commenced to dance gracefully round
the cradle, singing this song, while the baby Lanis slept peacefully,
with the crown of green laurel leaves on his head:
“Great blessings on thy head will fall,
In this thy natal hour;
But ah! the greatest gift of all,
We have not in our power.
We give thee wealth, we give thee fame,
We give thee hate of wrong,
The splendour of an honoured name,
The mighty power of song.
These gifts are idle as the wind,
Tho’ by them thou art blest,
Unless thro’ seeking thou canst find
The gift we deem the best.”
Then all the faeries melted away in the thin moonshine, the blooming
flowers vanished through the floor, the laurel wreath disappeared from
the baby’s head, and Eldina almost thought that she had been dreaming.
She had not been dreaming, however, as she soon found out, for, as the
years rolled by, and Lanis grew up into a tall, handsome boy, he became
the wonder of the countryside, owing to his beautiful voice and his
marvellous songs. Eldina had found a golden lyre left by the faeries
when Lanis grew old enough to play it, and with this in his hand he was
accustomed to wander about the country singing his lovely melodies. All
the country folk used to make Lanis sing to them at their merrymakings,
but when he lifted up his voice, the dancers would cease to dance, the
talkers to chatter, and they would sit with awestruck faces listening to
the wonderful stories he told them.
It was a curious thing that, in spite of what the faeries had said about
not giving him the gift of happiness, the lad’s songs were of the most
joyous description, and made the hearts of all rejoice. Eldina was
delighted at this, as she thought Lanis would now be happy, in spite of
the prophecy of the faeries, when at one merrymaking she heard an old
man say,—
“Ah, he sings fine, no doubt; but he’ll sing better when his heart is
broken.”
“What do you mean?” she asked in great dread.
“Joy-singing is beautiful,” replied the old man, “but sorrow-singing is
better; your lad knows nothing of the bitterness of life, and sings like
a delighted child. Wait till he breaks his heart, and he will be a
famous singer indeed.”
“But will he be happy?” she asked quickly, as the old man turned to go.
“No: genius is the gift of heaven, but it always brings sorrow to its
possessor; the laurel wreath is a sign of honour, but the leaves are
bitter.”
Eldina looked steadily into the eyes of the old man, and saw that he was
a faery who had come to warn her of approaching sorrow. She strove to
detain him and learn more, but the faery had vanished, and her hands
only grasped the rags of a scarecrow which stood in the fields.
That night she died, and Lanis, who was deeply attached to her, wept
bitterly as they buried her under the cool green turf. Before she died,
Eldina called him to her bedside, and told him all about the faeries,
bidding him wander through the world and seek the one gift which they
could not bestow. Lanis wept, and although he could not understand what
she meant, still a vague idea of her real meaning came to him as he sat
by her grave under the silent stars and sang a farewell. There was a
note in his voice which had not been there before, and the simple people
in the village awoke at midnight to hear his sad voice float through the
still air of the summer’s night.
“It is sorrow-singing,” they said to one another. “Lanis will never be
happy again.”
And they were right, for Lanis now started to wander through the world
and find out how cruel and hard it can be to those who have sensitive
souls and childlike faith. He was full of belief in human goodness and
kindness of heart, for he had received nothing else but kindness in his
country home; but now his mother was dead, the spell was broken, and he
set forth to find the gift of happiness.
Many months he wandered, singing his songs, sometimes sad, sometimes
joyful, but in all there sounded the weary note of longing for what he
was seeking.
“Where can I find happiness?” he asked an old beggar who lay by the
wayside.
“In the Kingdom of Shadows,” replied the old man, without raising his
eyes.
So Lanis pursued his weary way over mountains, plains, and seas, always
asking his one question, and always receiving the same answer.
Once he came to a great city, and sang in the streets so beautifully of
the green country and silver moonlight, that all the tired citizens
crowded around to hear. A man who was among the crowd came up to him as
he ceased his song and touched him on the sleeve.
“Come with me,” he said eagerly, “and I will make you rich.”
“I don’t want to be rich,” replied Lanis.
“That is a foolish thing to say,” said the man, who had a crafty face;
“gold is the finest thing in the world.”
So oily was his speech that he persuaded Lanis to come with him, and
took him to a great hall to sing, where he stood at the door himself,
making the people pay broad gold pieces to hear this wonderful poet who
sang about such noble things. Lanis felt a longing for wealth in his
heart, and sang about the power of gold to make or mar life, of the good
it could do, of the evil that arose through its misuse; and all the
people in the hall, mostly fat, wealthy merchants, chuckled with
delight.
“Ah! this is a sensible fellow,” they said to each other; “he sings
about sensible things.”
“I think his song about the beautiful green woods was finer,” sighed a
poor boy who listened outside, but then no one took any notice of such a
silly observation.
When Lanis had done singing, he came out of the hall, and found the man
who had tempted him with wealth sitting before a table heaped high with
gold.
“Is all that mine?” asked Lanis in a breathless tone.
“All that yours!” echoed the man in an indignant voice; “no, indeed—it’s
my money—here is your share,” and he pushed two pieces of gold towards
Lanis out of the great heap.
“But I earned it,” said Lanis indignantly; “I earned it with my voice.”
“And did I do nothing?” cried the man angrily. “Do you think I can give
my time and services to you for nothing? I should think not. If I hadn’t
put you into this hall to sing, and charged for people to hear you, why,
you would have been singing for nothing in the streets, instead of
getting two gold pieces.”
“But you have a hundred gold pieces.”
“Of course—that’s my share.”
“I did half the work, and I ought to have half the money.”
“Not at all,” replied the man, putting the gold in his pocket; “if you
wanted half you should have said so before you sang.”
“But I trusted you,” cried Lanis.
“More fool you,” retorted the man carelessly; “but I saw you were a fool
when you sang.”
“You are doing a wicked thing.”
“It’s only business,” shrieked the man; “you ought to be pleased at my
giving a beggarly poet like you anything, instead of trying to steal the
money I’ve worked for so hard.”
Then the man ran about the city telling all the people that he had done
a great kindness to Lanis, and been shamefully treated for doing so. All
the citizens, who quite agreed with the man’s way of doing business,
fell upon Lanis, and, driving him out of the city, shut their gates
against him.
In this way, therefore, did Lanis gain his first experience of the
world’s unkindness when there is any question between right and might.
Picking up his lyre, he walked on, leaving the city wherein he had been
so cruelly deceived far behind him, and as he went he sang sadly:
“In the school of life
Is the lesson taught,
That with harshest strife
Is our knowledge bought.
We are bought and sold
In our joy and grief;
I have lost my gold,
I have lost belief.
Ah, by cruel Fate
We are onward led;
I have learned to hate,
And my faith is dead.”
Lanis certainly should not have sung so bitterly when such a beautiful
world bloomed around him; after all, being deceived by one man does not
mean that every one else is as cruel; but then Lanis was very sensitive,
and the unjust way in which he had been treated made him very sad, so
that all his songs now spoke but of the sorrows of life and the sadness
of despair.
As he wandered on for many months in this dismal mood, he met with many
adventures, but, alas! nothing which could give him back his former
childlike belief in human kindness, and he was very anxious to get to
the Kingdom of Shadows and find once more his lost happiness.
Once he came to a great city which was the capital of a very rich
kingdom, and here found the citizens in a state of great dismay, for
their King, whom every one loved, had gone out of his mind. No one could
cure him of his madness, so it had been proclaimed that whomsoever
should do so would become the husband of the lovely Princess Iris, who
was the King’s daughter. Lanis saw the Princess, and she was so
beautiful that he at once fell deeply in love with her, and, forgetting
all his former experience of ingratitude, he thought that if he cured
her father, she would grow to love him, and he would thus discover his
happiness without looking any more for the Kingdom of Shadows.
[Illustration]
With this idea he went to the royal palace of the King, and there told
the Lord High Chamberlain that he would cure the mad monarch by the
power of song. The Lord High Chamberlain did not believe much in what
Lanis said, still he was anxious that every means should be tried to
cure the King, so let Lanis go into the dark room where he was sitting.
The King was a noble-looking old man, who looked very sad and sorrowful,
but Lanis saw at once that he was not really mad, but sad and
despondent, owing to the treachery and unkindness he had found upon
every hand. His dearest friends had betrayed him, his subjects were
rebellious, and the poor King so despaired of ever making his people
wise and noble that he had thus fallen into this deeply sorrowful state
which the Lord High Chamberlain mistook for madness.
Lanis ordered the curtains of the great window to be drawn aside, and,
when the bright sunlight streamed in through the painted glass, he sat
down in the centre of all the gorgeous colours, and, taking his lyre,
began to sing of noble deeds in order to rouse the despairing King from
his lethargy:
“The world is fair
With beauty rare,
Then why despair,
Oh monarch great?
He is not wise
Who never tries
Sublime to rise
O’er adverse Fate.
The summer flowers
Re-bloom in bowers,
Tho’ winter’s hours
May kill with frost.
Beneath the sun
As quick years run;
All thou hast done
Is never lost.”
The King lifted up his head as he heard these comforting words, and
looked at the noble face of the minstrel, for the silvery song bade him
not despair, although no good appeared to come of all his work; and
Lanis, seeing a ray of hope beam in the King’s eyes, went on singing
joyfully:
“Put on thy crown,
And boldly frown
Thy sadness down,
Tho’ keen the smart.
Thy burden take
Of office great,
And rule the State
With dauntless heart.
A coward he
Who thus would flee
Despairingly,
In time of need.
Tho’ evils lurk
In darkness murk,
Resume thy work—
Thou wilt succeed.”
Then the King, whose face now was shining with hope and strong resolve,
put on his royal crown, took his golden sceptre in his hand, and went
forth to take his seat upon the throne to do justice to his subjects.
[Illustration]
“Thou art a wise youth,” said he to Lanis, “and thy words are noble. It
is foolish to desert one’s post when there is work to be done, and I
will not forget thy rebuke. Now, thou wilt stay with me and marry my
daughter.”
Lanis was only too glad to do so, for he now loved the Princess with all
his might, but, seeing her leave the great feast which the King had
given in honour of his recovery, he followed her secretly, and found her
weeping.
“Why do you weep, beautiful Princess?” he asked.
“Because I have to marry you,” said Iris sadly, “and I love another.”
Lanis felt a pang at his heart as she said this, and on turning round
saw a handsome young man holding the beautiful Princess in his arms.
“Do you love one another?” asked Lanis, with tears in his eyes.
“Yes; it would be death for us to part,” they both replied.
Then Lanis saw that once more he had failed to find happiness, but still
it was in his power to bestow it upon others, so he took the Princess
and her lover to the old King, and obtained his consent to their
marriage. The lovers thanked him heartily, and after Lanis saw them
married, he once more started away to wander through the world. The King
offered him gold and jewels to stay, but Lanis refused.
“Gold and jewels are good things,” he said sadly; “but happiness is
better, therefore I go to find it.”
“And where will you find it?” asked the King.
“In the Kingdom of Shadows,” answered Lanis, and he departed, singing
his sorrow-song:
“Ah me, what treasure
To taste the pleasure
Of love’s caress.
Oh, idle lover,
Wilt thou discover
Heart’s happiness.
Nay! folly this is;
I gain no kisses
From sweet Princess.
Of him she’s fonder,
So forth I wander
In sad distress.”
It would take a long time to tell how many adventures Lanis met with in
his wanderings through the world. The years rolled by, and he travelled
onward, never pausing, always hoping to find happiness, but, alas! no
one could tell him where to look for the Kingdom of Shadows, and he
seemed farther off his object than when he set forth. He freed many
princesses from the durance of cruel magicians, but though they all
thanked him for his kindness, they loved some one else, and he found no
one in the world who cared at all about him. He was honoured far and
wide for his gift of song, and did much good in all lands, but no one
loved him for himself, and although he was the cause of happiness to
others, he never felt happiness in his own heart.
At last, after many years of weary travel, when he had grown a
white-haired old man, with bent form and sad heart, he found himself on
the shore of a great sea, beyond which he knew lay the most wonderful
countries. A boat was rocking on the waves near the shore, so Lanis
determined to sail over this mysterious ocean, and thought that perhaps
far away in the darkness he might find the Kingdom of Shadows, for which
he had sought so long and ardently. He knew that if he once sailed over
this ocean, he would never be able to return to earth again, so he sang
a last farewell to the beautiful world wherein he had done so much good,
and then stepped into the boat.
It was a fairy boat, and moved rapidly onward over the waves without
sails or oars. The mists gathered thickly round him and hid the green
shore from his view, so sitting in the boat he saw nothing but the grey
sky above, the grey mists around, and beneath him the cruel black
waters. He was not afraid, however, for he knew he had done no harm,
and, seizing his harp, sang his last sorrow-song:
“Grey mist around me,
Grey sky above me;
Sorrow hath crowned me—
No one will love me.
Brave spirit, quail not;
All will be bright yet.
At thy fate rail not;
God will make right yet.
Still do thy duty,
Tho’ all deceive thee,
Splendour and beauty
Now will receive thee.”
As he sang the last words, the strings of his lyre snapped with a loud
crash, and, leaping out of his nerveless hands, it fell into the grey
waves of the sea. Lanis did not grieve, for he now knew he was done with
his sorrow-singing for evermore, and as the boat sailed onward he saw a
red glow to the left.
“That is the gate of iron,” he whispered to himself, “it leads to the
Kingdom of Fire. Ah! I would never find any happiness there.”
The waves were foaming angrily round the little boat, and the red glare
from the open portals of the iron gate looked like an angry sunset, but
still Lanis felt no fear. After a time the red glare died away, and now
on every side of him was a soft golden light, while the waves beneath
the boat were of a delicate blue, and the sky above of the same soft
tint. Lanis looked around, and saw a soft green shore, to which his boat
drifted gently, and he sprang out on to the yellow sand of the beach. As
he did so, his travel-worn clothes fell off him, and he found himself
arrayed in a long white robe.
A tall man, also in a white robe, approached, and, smiling gently on
Lanis, gave him a golden harp.
“Is this my old harp?” asked Lanis, taking it.
“No; it is better than the old harp.”
“Is it for sorrow-singing?”
“Nay; it is for songs of joy.”
“And is this Faeryland?”
“Nay; it is a nobler place than Faeryland.”
“Is it The Kingdom of Shadows?”
“So we called it on earth, but now we know it as the Kingdom of Eternal
Light.”
Lanis looked at the tall man as he said this, and saw it was the old
king he had helped—now no longer old and frail, but in the prime of
life.
“You are the King!” he cried gladly.
“Yes, I was the King. You pointed out my duty to me, and I did it;
otherwise I never would have reached here.”
“And the Princess?”
“Is quite happy,” replied the King. “She rules my realm with her
husband, and both are wise.”
“Have you found happiness?” asked Lanis.
“Yes!—and so will you, when you strike your harp,” answered the King.
Lanis struck the golden strings of his harp, and immediately all his
weariness and sorrow passed away, and he felt glad and joyful. At the
sound of the music, he changed from an old man into a noble-looking
youth—the same Lanis who had sung to the King.
“Ah, I have indeed found happiness,” he cried; “but still, I feel I want
something more.”
“I know what you want,” said the King. “Look!”
And Lanis, looking up, saw his mother, with a calm expression of joy
upon her face, coming towards him, with outstretched arms. All the
white-robed spirits around struck their golden harps and sang the most
beautiful songs that were ever heard, while mother and son embraced, and
far off the palace of the great King shone like a bright star.