The End of Elfintown

_Copyright 1894 by Macmillan & Co._]

With shells’ jagged splints some sawed at sticks, Some delved the soil with brier-thorn picks To helves of flax-haulm fitted; On business more than one can name From dawn to dusk they went and came; None durst his share refuse for shame, Nor would with sloth be twitted.

And brutish things, that creep and crawl Stingless and strong, they did enthrall To burdens bear, and pull and haul, Along the highways goaded; There might ye see the Beetle black Come lumbering down the dusty track, With pebble-blocks piled on his back, Or mossy twig-beams loaded.

And oft they ponderous weights would heap On slow-paced Slugs, who, half-asleep, For many a tedious yard must creep, Their drivers by them trudging; Even nimbler Ants they made submit To bridle and curb of cobweb knit, Unruly teams, that plunged and bit, Against the yoke sore grudging.

Thus, sped by toil of serf and Fay, The work lagged nowise; day by day New mansions rose in rich array Beside the paven causey; Their like was ne’er in Elfland known, Some built of brick, and some of stone, And roofed with mica slabs that shone, And glazed with gnat-wings gauzy.

But, fairest amongst all these descried, Stood in the middle edified The Palace where the King should bide, Well worthy a royal master; Of whitest graile its walls, or stained With delicate streaks like marble veined, From brook-bank quarries drawn, fine-grained, And pure as alabaster.

I dare not say how many a line It towered aloft, nor words are mine To tell what fancies Faery-fine Did hall and chamber garnish, All carpeted with hand-spun moss, Or laurel-leaf tight strained across, That flooring made of smoother gloss Than e’er had wax or varnish.

With couch, and stool, and cushion strown Of ash-bud’s silk or thistle’s down; Their rugs, fluffed fells of field-mice brown, For tiger’s skin and panther’s. Their curtains came from spider-looms, Their walls were hung with moths’ soft plumes; Much gold-dust glittered thro’ the rooms, From stamens brushed and anthers.

A midge-flight from the Palace gate, (Scroll-work of skeleton beech-leaf) straight A Fane they reared that matched in state

_Copyright 1894 by Macmillan & Co._]

Famed Athens or Eleusis; Such beauty frieze and cornice lent, Entablature and pediment; In double row tall columns went Around it, as their use is.

Each from one slab of rush’s pith Hewn, like majestic monolith, The architrave to prop, therewith The massy roof upholding. Indoors ’twas all adusk and chill; No Fay but felt a solemn thrill To pace its cloistered twilight still Mysterious glooms enfolding.

Then from the brook with trenching spade Smooth dandelion tubes they laid, And hemlock pipes that bitter made The water thro’ them tasted; Hence, some fastidious Fays would go With acorn barrels to and fro, Till this the King forbade, lest so Their labour seem but wasted.

Herein alone his fortune frowned: That in all Fayland was not found The fire-snake, lured from underground As even-dusk grows dimmer; This lacked, they did for lamp-posts choose Stout daisy-stems, and glowworms use, Chained there all night with knot and noose, To make a goodly glimmer.

_Copyright by Macmillan & Co. 1894_]

But who so fain as Oberon, That watched as every morn outshone His peerless city waxing on, While in its growth he gloried? Triumphant joy it gave the King To see each straw-plank scaffolding Pulled down piecemeal, as walls upspring, Wide-windowed, many-storied.

And ever his stirring Elves amid He walked, and spied on all they did, And toilers praised, and idlers chid, With earnest speech and eager; Till, swift as blades in April-time Thro’ clod-cracks pricked, did skyward climb Roof crowding roof; whereof my rime Keeps but a record meagre.

And now ye might, in sooth, have thought, Seeing all to such perfection wrought, That Fays might well repose have sought, From toil returned to pleasure. Howbeit, not so their King inclined, For fast as sped the works designed, Fresh plans were shapen in his mind, That wist not bound or measure.

Oft as from Palace towers he eyed That spacious plain, as oft he sighed To see it planted far and wide With street-rows thick as stubble. Nor seldom flaws of wind and rain, Uplifting roof, and shattering pane, That needs must be restored again, Did Elfin labours double.

Thus, by the malice of the skies, And tasks their King would still devise, The Fays beheld new toils arise To bar their hope of resting; As he who from the strand hath swum, While in his ear the surges hum, Sees evermore to meet him come White flocks of billows cresting.

Which when at last they clearly knew, Deep discontent upon them grew, Till scarce a Fay did timber hew, Or piled up clay or pebble, Or hoisted load with strain and heft, Or grained a door with fingers deft And listless thoughts, but, hope-bereft, At heart was half a rebel.

Ii.--the Council

So, after setting of a sun, When all their day’s long coil was done, And dew on gossamer-threads late-spun Beneath the moonbeams trembled, Called to a chosen meeting-place, Without the Town a frog-leap’s space, To talk about their evil case The Elfin folk assembled.

’Twas in good sooth a sight forlorn To see them fagged and labour-worn, Their dainty garments stained and torn, Forms bowed with weary stooping; Most like a bed of windflowers frail, What time a shower of pelting hail Hath smirched with mould the petals pale And left the bruised stalks drooping.

And as when ruffling breeze-wafts go, Now sighing loud, now moaning low,

Among the shivering blossoms, so Among the Elves upstarted A wail of voices small and shrill, That swelled and sank commingled, still Lamenting o’er their present ill Or ancient bliss departed.

First Elfrain, for his silvern tongue Renowned his Faery feres among, Upon a fallen beech-nut sprung, Spake clear, while hushed they hearkened: “It little needs, ye Elves” (he said), “To bid you ’ware the direful dread, By gathering glooms and shadows spread, Wherewith our days are darkened.

“But, since a shadow’s curse is e’er The eyes to blind and feet to snare, That else a path would find and fare From forth its grim embrasure, Behoves us seek from whence they flit, These shades that on our lives have lit, For so, perchance, a way we hit, Back to the beamy azure.

“Then, prithee, freeborn Fays and Elves, Here let us pause and ask ourselves Why this one hews, why that one delves, Finch waking, chafer whirring. What graceless freak of spiteful change Hath o’er us wound these fetters strange, Who wont down all the dells to range Unchecked as breeze’s stirring?

“What joy have ye to cleave the clod, Or mortar bear in chickpea hod, Or down the creaking cart-track plod, Or up the ladder dizzy? Nay, daubed with clay, and grimed with dust, This piteous plight declares ye must Lament the charge upon you thrust That makes you bondslaves busy.

“Where now be flown the mirthful hours Ye fleeted by in blossomy bowers? Soft sleep at core of scented flowers, Gay sports on greensward airy? Why fail your feasts, why flag your flights, Your morrice-dance on moonlit nights? Have these things now no more delights For heart of woodland Faery?