Complete Fairy Tales Read online

  To look at her, still hidden in the wood:

  But then he moved. She heard; and looking round

  Caught sight of him; with great dismay

  She saw herself observed. At once she flushed;

  Across her cheek the burning crimson rushed;

  From modesty, she turned her face away,

  And from embarrassment, to him became

  More lovely still. He thought she had, behind

  The guileless veil of her attractive shame,

  That sweet simplicity of mind,

  That innocence, which womankind,

  So he believed, could now no longer claim;

  But which in her he saw unspoiled and pure.

  With hesitation he drew near,

  The prey of unaccustomed fear,

  And timidly, his voice unsure,

  As tongue-tied as the maid, he said

  That all his huntsmen having gone ahead,

  He’d missed the path they’d taken; could she say

  If men and hounds had passed that way?

  ‘My lord,’ she answered, ‘you alone

  Have come along this solitary track,

  But do not worry: I will guide you back

  Towards a path which will be known,

  I think, to you.’ Said he: ‘Now Heaven be blessed

  For such good luck! I know these woods of old,

  But till this moment had not guessed

  What precious treasure they might hold.’

  Then as upon the water’s marshy brink

  She saw him kneel with arms outstretched,

  Seeking to quench his thirst and drink:

  ‘My lord!’ she cried, ‘a moment, if you will,’

  And for this new admirer ran and fetched,

  Inside her modest house, a cup to fill

  And offer him, with movements full of grace.

  Seeing the pleasure on her face,

  No agate vase, he thought, or crystal glass,

  Though brilliantly adorned with gold,

  Or deeply carved, or intricately scrolled,

  Would ever have the beauty to surpass,

  For him, with all its frivolous display,

  The cup she gave him made of humble clay.

  To find the way towards the town,

  They traverse wooded, steep, and rocky ground,

  Cut through by torrents tumbling down.

  The Prince, meanwhile, is looking round

  To map the way: the lover’s cunning mind

  Takes note of every turning they have passed,

  And every mark and sign by which to find

  The shepherdess’s house again. At last

  They reach a grove where tangled branches cast

  Their cooling shadows. Here he can descry

  His palace with its golden rooftops, high

  And far away across the plain.

  The Prince and shepherdess must part:

  With heavy step he went, feeling the pain

  Of love lodged deep within his heart.

  While riding home, the tender thought

  Of what had passed between them brought

  Some solace, but the anguish was renewed

  By next day’s dawn. He stayed in sullen mood,

  Listless and bored, till once again

  He can rejoin his hounds and men,

  But not to hunt: that pleasure he eschews;

  For having lost his escort by a ruse,

  He has the happiness of being free

  To find the shepherdess; he wants to seek

  His way alone. His landmarks every peak,

  Each carefully remembered tree,

  Directed by love’s instinct as he rides,

  He finds the way despite its twists and turns,

  Until he finally discerns

  The valley where her simple dwelling hides.

  She and her father dwell alone, he learns.

  Griselda is her name. They live

  Their quiet life on what their sheep can give.

  She spins herself the fleeces that they shear.

  To merchants in the town she seldom goes;

  The two alone make all the clothes they wear.

  As he stays on, his admiration grows

  For all her qualities of heart and mind;

  The more he sees, the more he is aware

  How many virtues are in her combined;

  And if (he thinks) she seems so fair,

  The reason for her beauty lies

  Within her soul: the lively flame

  Which animates her is the same

  That shines and sparkles in her eyes.

  So quickly to have made so just a choice

  Delighted him: he could not but rejoice;

  And to his council, summoned that same day,

  He made his purpose known without delay:

  ‘My councillors: the people’s loyal plea

  I hereby grant; I now agree

  To take at last my marriage vows.

  The lady whom I shall espouse

  Will not be from some foreign land,

  But from among you, near at hand;

  In character, of proven worth;

  Fair to behold; of honourable birth.

  My forebears more than once have done the same.

  But as for who she is, you must await

  The day itself: until we celebrate

  My wedding, I shall not disclose her name.’

  Then instantly the tidings spread

  Of everything the Prince had said;

  The people’s joy, as they received

  The happy news, will scarcely be believed;

  But of them all, the orator displayed

  The deepest satisfaction: in his view

  The credit for the public glee was due

  Entirely to the moving speech he’d made;

  A most important man he claimed to be.

  ‘For eloquence has power to convince,’

  He said each moment, ‘even our great Prince.’

  The ladies were a pleasant sight to see

  As each, deluded, vainly tried

  To tempt him as a suitor to her side;

  For many times they’d heard their lord declare

  That more than all things else he wished his bride

  To charm him by her chaste and modest air.

  In many ways their manners changed;

  Their wardrobes too were rearranged.

  When now they spoke their tones were soft,

  Most piously they sniffed and coughed;

  By half a yard coiffures descended,*

  Of bosoms nothing was revealed,

  While sleeves and cuffs were far extended

  Till even fingers were concealed.

  Meanwhile the wedding day approaches;

  In every street and every square

  Artists and artisans prepare

  Superb new carriages and coaches,

  So splendidly designed and made

  That of the beauties there displayed

  The least amazing to behold

  Are rich adornments all of gold.

  And so that nothing can obstruct

  The view of the procession passing by

  In all its splendour, labourers construct

  Great stands on scaffolding built high;

  Triumphal arches too they raise,

  Which glorify the Prince, and praise

  Not only all his victories in the field,

  But his defeat, since Love has made him yield.

  Others again, with diligence and skill,

  Busily make those fiery toys, which fill

  The air with harmless thunder, and release

  New stars in myriads across the sky.

  The ballet-dancers can be seen nearby,

  At practice on their latest clever piece

  Of pleasing nonsense, never seen before.

  Opera too is in rehearsal here,

  The finest ever known; its cast
/>   Of deities are working at a score

  Replete with melodies which charm the ear.

  The famous wedding day arrives at last:

  The early morning sky is bright and clear,

  And scarcely has its golden blue

  Been touched by dawn’s vermilion hue,

  Than ladies wake, and leap from bed;

  Eager to watch, the people spread

  Along the streets, where guards are sent

  To keep clear passage and prevent

  Disturbances among the crowd.

  Inside the palace, every room is loud

  With flutes and bugles and the rustic sound

  Of shawms and bagpipes, while outside you hear

  The din of drums and trumpets all around.

  And when the Prince and all his court appear

  He’s greeted with prolonged and joyous cries;

  But then he causes much surprise:

  He leaves the road and makes his way,

  As was his habit every day,

  Towards the forest. ‘There you are,’ they said;

  Our Prince is acting in his usual fashion;

  In love he may be, but his strongest passion

  Is hunting still.’ The Prince goes on ahead

  Quickly across the meadows of the plain;

  Amazing his companions once again,

  He turns towards the hills and rides apace

  By woodland tracks, delighted as before

  To trace the winding path towards the door

  Of his beloved’s rustic dwelling-place.

  Meanwhile Griselda knew no more

  Than what she’d heard from common talk

  About the wedding; so she meant,

  Wishing to see this splendid sight, to walk

  Towards the town and watch the great event.

  Just on the point of leaving, she had dressed

  To honour the occasion, in her Sunday best.

  ‘So early and so quickly on your way!’

  With tender look, the Prince approaching said;

  ‘No need, sweet shepherdess, to hasten so;

  The wedding that you are to see today,

  At which it is your Prince who is to wed,

  Cannot be held unless you also go.

  I love you; it is you I choose

  Above a thousand others, young and fair,

  To marry and to share with you my life,

  Unless you tell me now that you refuse.’

  ‘My lord,’ she said, ‘I scarcely dare

  To hope to rise so far, and be your wife;

  This is some jest of yours, at my expense.’

  ‘Grisel,’ he said, ‘believe me: it is true;

  Your father tells me he consents—

  He was the only one who knew.

  All that is needed now is that you deign,

  Sweet shepherdess, to tell me you agree;

  But you must also swear, for peace to reign

  Eternally between yourself and me,

  Henceforward to obey my will alone.’

  ‘I swear,’ she answered; ‘I have always known,

  Although the man I married might be poor,

  That on all matters he would then decide,

  And I obey with joy; how much the more

  If you, my lord, should take me for your bride!’

  Thus was the Prince’s declaration made;

  And while his courtiers, with a single voice,

  Congratulate him on his choice,

  The Prince prevails upon the shepherd maid

  To go and change her country dress

  For raiment more befitting a princess.

  The ladies of the court best qualified

  Are asked if they will help; inside

  The tiny room their skill and care

  Increase her elegance and grace

  As each adornment finds its place.

  The ladies have but one small room to share,

  But much admire the house, so fresh and clean

  That not a hint of poverty is seen,

  And cool beneath a plane-tree’s spreading shade

  To them it seems a perfect place to dwell:

  As if it came there by some magic spell.

  Superbly and delightfully arrayed

  Outside the little house the shepherdess

  At length appears; her beauty and her dress

  Bring long applause and praise; and yet

  The Prince observes her splendour with regret,

  Half-wishing that he could restore

  The simple innocence she had before.

  Meanwhile a coach and horses wait—

  The coach of gold, with ivory inlaid.

  Majestically, the shepherd maid

  Steps in beside the Prince to ride in state.

  He finds he has as great a cause for pride

  In sitting there, Griselda at his side,

  As if he led a victory parade

  In which his martial trophies were displayed.

  The courtiers all follow; they observe,

  As they proceed, the rank that they deserve

  Through lineage, or by their post at court.

  Meanwhile in town few citizens remain:

  Outside the walls, dispersed across the plain,

  They know the Prince’s purpose by report,

  And patiently await their lord’s approach.

  He’s seen: they run to meet him, and the coach

  Can scarcely move, so dense becomes the crowd.

  The joyful cries continue long and loud;

  The horses grow alarmed, and struggle past,

  With rearing heads and stamping feet,

  Advancing less, it seems, than they retreat.

  The couple reach the church at last,

  And at the altar solemnize,

  With vows that make eternal ties,

  The union of two destinies combined.

  Towards the palace then they make their way,

  Where pleasures wait of every kind,

  With jousting, tilting, dancing, games to play,

  And merriment shared round on every side.

  At dusk, the god of weddings is their guide:

  They are by fair-haired Hymenaeus led

  To the chaste delights of the marriage bed.

  Next day came local worthies, small and great:

  The nobles, church, and third estate

  Sent delegations to express

  Greetings to the Prince, and to the Princess.

  Surrounded by the ladies of her court,

  Without embarrassment of any sort,

  Griselda listened as a princess should,

  And answered as a princess would.

  So skilfully did she perform her duty

  That all could see how Heaven’s treasure,

  Reason and sense no less than beauty,

  Had come to her in overflowing measure.

  Thus gifted, she was quick to understand

  The manners of the highest in the land

  And make them hers; and soon became well-versed

  In what her ladies each knew how to do,

  And what they each enjoyed; so from the first,

  With never-failing common sense, she knew

  How they could be as easily controlled

  As flocks of sheep when guided to their fold.

  Within the year Heaven saw fit to bless

  The marriage of this happy pair,

  And though the child was not the son and heir

  That both had wished for, yet the young princess

  Had so much beauty that their one concern

  Was to preserve her free from harm.

  The Prince who found her sweet and full of charm

  Would often visit, leave, but soon return;

  Her mother would not have her out of sight,

  But gazed on her with ever more delight.

  For nourishment she thought it best

  Herself to feed the baby at the breast
:

  ‘For how, without ingratitude,’ she said,

  ‘Could I refuse her, crying to be fed,

  And leave that service to another

  When I should give it? For what cause

  Should I go contrary to nature’s laws,

  And be, to this dear child, but half a mother?’

  Perhaps the Prince’s love has ceased to blaze

  As ardently as in its early days;

  Or else some melancholic humour burns

  Within him still, and now returns

  In vapours rising once again

  To make his heart corrupt and cloud his brain;

  But now, in all she does, her acts appear,

  To his imagination, insincere.

  Her virtue irks him: in it he detects

  A snare devised in order to deceive

  His trusting soul; he thinks he should believe

  All that his agitated mind suspects.

  He had, it seemed, been happy to excess;

  He now prefers to make himself unsure.

  Disturbed in mind, he seeks a cure:

  It pleases him to follow the Princess,

  To spy upon her, and to make her bear

  The torments of constraint, the pangs of fear,

  And any method he can utilize

  For truth to be distinguished from disguise.

  ‘I’ve trusted her,’ he thinks, ‘too long;

  And if her virtues should prove real,

  The most unbearable ordeal

  Will simply make them twice as strong.’

  He keeps her in his palace, closely held,

  The pleasures of the court now far away;

  In isolation, she is forced to stay

  Inside her room, whence daylight is expelled.

  Convinced that ornament and proud display

  Are what delight, above all things,

  The sex that Nature made for beauty’s sake,

  He roughly says that he must take

  Her pearls and rubies, jewels and rings,

  Which he had given her to show

  His tenderness a year ago.

  For her, whose life is free from blame,

  Duty has always been her only aim;

  She gives the jewels back without distress,

  And even, since to take them from her hands

  Has pleased him, so she understands,

  Her own contentment is no less

  Than when she had them first as his Princess.

  ‘These torments are for me,’ she said, ‘a test:

  My husband makes me suffer in this way

  To rouse my virtue, which too long a rest,

  I know, would cause to perish and decay.

  If such is not his plan, at least I’m sure

  That what the Lord my God intends for me,

  By such prolonged affliction, is to see

  How far my constancy and faith endure.

  ‘How many wretched women heed

  Only their own desires; they go

  By paths of danger, paths that lead