Now would that he who knew so well
Of fierce Pigwiggin’s armour fell,
And angered Oberon’s wrath, to tell,
And how their feud was ended,
Yea, would that he, ere hence he sped,
Had writ in gold, as I in lead,
For men to learn why Fays be fled,
And whitherward they wended.
It hapt in ages far agone
A harmful spell was cast upon
That Elfin King, great Oberon,
And teen and trouble brought him;
And albeit none can track the skill
That wove the charm full-fraught with ill,
We wot the Bad Brown Witch’s will
Such perilous mischief wrought him.
For she by magic showed him clear,
In mirroring crystal of her mere,
A wondrous Town; ’twas many a year
Ere yet its like were builded;
But thro’ her might of gramarie
She made the Elfin Prince to see
The grandest that on earth should be,
And most by wealth-wand gilded.
’Twas shrunk, I trow, to seemly size
For straiter range of Elfin eyes,
But else it had its mortal guise,
No sight, no stir omitted,
With tower and temple, and mart and street,
And prison and palace, all complete,
And whirr of wheels, and hurry of feet
That hither thither flitted.
Whereon the King much-marvelling gazed,
Admiring more, and more amazed,
Till, when the Witch its image razed,
Still in his heart it tarried,
(A secret that he might not tell),
And home unto his woodland dell
That city’s vision, like a spell,
O’er all his thoughts he carried.
And since that day he dwelled no more
In joyance blithe as theretofore,
But sadly aye himself he bore
Amid the sunniest shining;
Nor quivering beam, nor fluttering breeze,
Nor flickering shade, his sense could please;
He dreamed of rarer things than these,
And for their lack was pining.
