And the knight, being entranced with the supernatural beauty of Undine,
rushed eagerly towards her with his arms extended, as if he would clasp
her to his bosom; but she shrunk from his approach like the sensitive
plant, which thrillingly feels, yet dares not meet, man’s touch—and the
eager knight embraced the empty air.
When I was a little child, I once tried to catch a beautiful bird that
sat singing in a green bush; but when my hand, certain of its victim,
closed to grasp it, a gleam of loveliness shot across my eyes—a wild
burst of joyous melody smote my ears—and that bird like a midnight
dream, passed from my sight forever. Hope ceased her guardian watch, and
as she turned her face from me, threw deep black shadows far into my
heart. So felt the strange knight, as he stood with extended arms
motionless and eyes gazing wildly in the direction whence Undine had
vanished, until the good old hermit came and laid his hand upon the
youth’s shoulder, and spoke kindly to him—for he knew that his guest
was in a charmed spell, and could no more control his thought.
So he led the knight, as he would have done a child, to a beautiful
arbor at the bottom of the garden, where the moon-beams had stolen
through the vine leaves, and were dallying with the dew—for the tempest
had suddenly ceased, and the majestic night had come forth uncovered, to
hold her starry court—and pointed to a rustic bed made of dry leaves
and moss. Then he blessed him and departed—and the stranger slept
sweetly beneath the sheltering wings of night. But it was his body alone
that slumbered: for no sooner had he closed his eyes than a thousand
faces, radiant with smiles and witching tenderness, clustered around
him—and, oh rapture! among them was Undine, who came joyously towards
him, and flung herself confidingly into his arms; and, as she looked up
in his face, he thought he had passed the cloudy shadows which separate
earth from heaven, and was already in the abode of immortal bliss.
But I will not protract my story. The knight fell impetuously in love
with the little fairy girl, who told him that she had sacrificed her
immortality out of pure love for him, and promised him every delight
that physical or intellectual longing could possibly conceive—so long
as he was faithful to her: and the little witch kept her word, and had
told him the truth, too, as you shall presently see—for her father,
Kuhleborn, and all the rest of her fairy acquaintances, gradually
forsook her, and she held no more communion with the winged spirit of
the ideal world, save with that _one_ who is ever near the object of her
anxiety and love—her mother! Aye, that fairy mother, in the still
star-light, when Undine slept like a rose upon the bosom of her lord,
would come and fan her with her musical wings, and breathe fragrance
over her, and spangle her hair with tears of love and fondness—and then
the knight would wake and kiss them up, and fold her more closely to his
breast; and the mother would glide noiselessly away, and sit in pleasant
sadness by the river’s bank, until the garish day-light frightened her
back to her haunts in the deep forest.
Well—this lasted for some time; the old hermit sanctioning with his
smiles the endearments of the fond pair; for he knew that Undine’s only
chance of happiness was in the constancy of the stranger knight—for she
had forfeited her immortal nature, and trusted all her rich treasure of
hope and happiness to a human love! How precious the cargo! how frail
the bark! what a little tempest will shatter this slight vessel, and
strew the glittering fragments of its freight upon the sands!
Anon came a gallant array of knights from his father’s court, to conduct
our bewildered lover back to life. Congratulations upon his safety, and
the evident joy which dwelt upon the features of his friends, at length
subdued him, and he consented to return to the gay world. He sought once
more his Undine in her favorite bower; and as he approached, a strain of
most exquisite music stole upon his ear. He listened, and heard the
voice of his own—his beloved—pour forth her soul:
“Farewell, farewell! ye dreams which were my being,
And are no more—at least, no more to me;
I see ye dimly from my presence fleeing—
I know—I know—ye never more can be
Solace or joy of mine! How weak to trust
Undying love like mine to mortal formed of dust!
“Farewell, farewell! ye bright-winged sister spirits,
Immortal in your beauty and your truth!
I cannot envy ye—my soul inherits
A dowry dearer than immortal youth,
E’en from the fulness of my present joy,
While yet I linger near my beauteous island-boy!
“Ah! for one thrill of love to wring with bliss
The delicate fibres of a heart like mine,
I’d pay again the price I pay for this!
And, though for me no more the stars shall shine,
Or flowers around their odorous breath distil,
Or nightly revels on the moon-lit hill
“Awake me with their echoes—yet the _sense_
_Of human love_, and that I _was_ adored
With warm and human energy, shall dispense
Fragrance immortal o’er me, when I’ve poured
The essence of my being out, and died—
The victim of immortal love and mortal pride!”
Wildly he rushed into the arbor, and clasped the fairy woman over and
over to his breast—swearing and protesting most vehemently that he
would only go and see his father and receive his blessing, and his
mother’s kiss, and his sister’s farewell embrace, and then straightway
return to the island and his fairy bride. And so, he again pressed her
little bosom to his own, and kissed her lips, and she, poor thing!
believed him—for she was nothing but a woman then, and had lost her
fairy sagacity—and twining her beautiful limbs around him, as if she
would grow there forever, she flooded his bosom with her pure warm
tears; and gently removing her now insensible form to a green bank,
strown with violets, and calling the good old hermit from the hut, he
rushed out, and mounting his gallant steed, dashed wildly across the
Rhine, and bent his way to his father’s castle.
And now I must let you into a very important secret; which is, that our
gallant knight had already wooed and won the daughter of a powerful
nobleman, whose castle was on the opposite bank of the river to his
father’s,—and the marriage contracts and settlements had all been made
and ratified by the old people. The lady was a pretty, unmeaning,
blue-eyed girl, and knew no better than to fall in love according to law
and the command of her father; and she therefore made no opposition, but
merely waited in listless indifference, till her husband should release
her virgin bosom from its bursting boddice, and lead her to the nuptial
chamber. Of what _that_ was, she had no possible idea—or, if she had,
nobody was ever the wiser of it.
And so the knight dashed onwards, outstripping all his friends, until he
arrived breathless at his father’s castle, scarce knowing where he was
or where he had been. But all question or surmise was smothered in the
joy occasioned by his return. Feasts and festivals were the order of the
day—and our knight was eternally stuck alongside of the blue-eyed girl
he was to marry. But he thought of nothing but a pair of large black
orbs that used to dart lightning into his soul, when he was on the
little island; and he never heard his intended bride utter a word
without thrilling, by contrast, all over, with the memory of that fairy
music which soothed him in Undine’s bower. And he saw her in his
dreams—and even when he was wide awake, his soul still lingered round
that charmed spot, hallowed by the presence of immortal love. But
earthly ties are more palpable than the air-wrought links of the soul’s
affections, and find a stronger hold in our gross and earthly nature;
and so, day after day, the dream of his sweet Undine became dimmer and
more fleeting; and at last, like one intoxicated with glorious wine who
sinks to sleep dreamless, he tumbled listlessly back to earth, and his
fairy bride was remembered no more. The day for his marriage was fixed,
and the time was spent in a continual round of feasting and merry
making.
Where was Undine all this time? What did she? Tell us all about her. In
good time you shall hear the whole sad story.