Read Ebook: Graham's Magazine Vol. XL No. 3 March 1852 by Various Graham George R Editor

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Ebook has 1101 lines and 123930 words, and 23 pages

And now Ellise was very mournful, for she hardly ever left her dark hole. The corn grew up far above her head, and formed quite a thick wood round the house of the field-mouse.

"Now you can spend the summer in working at your wedding-clothes," said the field-mouse, for the neighbor, the wearisome mole, had at last really proposed for Ellise. "I will give you every thing you want, that you may have all things comfortable about you, when you are the mole's wife."

And now Ellise was obliged to sit all day long busy at her clothes, and the field-mouse took four clever spiders into her service, and kept them weaving day and night. Every evening came the mole to pay his visit, and every evening he expressed his wish that the summer would soon come to an end, and the heat cease, for then, when the winter was here, his wedding should take place. But Ellise was not at all happy to hear this, for she could hardly bear even to look upon the ugly mole, for all his expensive velvet coat. Every evening and every morning she went out at the door, and when the wind blew the ears of corn apart, and she could look upon the blue heaven, she saw it was so beautiful out in the open air, that she wished she could only see the dear swallow once more; but the swallow never came; he preferred rejoicing himself in the warm sunbeams in the green woods.

"In four weeks your wedding will take place," said the field-mouse to her; but Ellise wept, and said she did not want to have the stupid mole for a husband.

"Fiddle-de-dee," answered the field-mouse--"Come, don't be obstinate, or I shall be obliged to bite you with my sharp teeth. Isn't he a good husband that you're going to have? Why, even the queen hasn't such a fine velvet coat to show as he has! His kitchen and his cellar are well-stocked, and you ought rather to thank Providence for providing so well for you!"

So the wedding was to be! Already was the mole come to fetch away Ellise, who, from henceforth, was to live always with him. Deep under the earth, where no sunbeam could ever come! The little maiden was very unhappy, that she must take her farewell of the friendly sun, which at all events she saw at the door of the field-mouse's house.

"Farewell, thou beloved sun!" said she, and raised her hands toward heaven, while she advanced a few steps from the door; for already was the corn again reaped, and she stood once more among the stubble in the field. "Adieu, adieu!" she repeated, and threw her arms round a flower that stood near her, "Greet the little swallow for me, when you see him again," added she.

"Quivit! quivit!" echoed near her in the same moment, and, as Ellise raised her eyes, she saw her well-known little swallow fly past. As soon as the swallow perceived Ellise, he too, became quite joyful, and hastened at once to his kind nurse; and she told him how unwilling she was to have the ugly mole for her husband, and that she must go down deep into the earth, where neither sun nor moon could ever look upon her, and with these words she burst into tears.

"See now," said the swallow, "the cold winter is coming again, and I am flying away to the warm countries, will you come and travel with me? I will carry you gladly on my back. You need only to bind yourself fast with your girdle, so we can fly away far from the disagreeable mole, and his dark house, far over mountains and valleys, to the beautiful countries, where the sun shines much warmer than it does here; where there is summer always, and always beautiful flowers blooming. Come, be comforted, and fly away with me, dear, kind Ellise, who saved my life when I lay frozen in the earth."

"Yes, I will go with you," cried Ellise joyfully. She mounted on the back of the swallow, set her feet upon his out-spread wings, bound herself with her girdle to a strong feather, and flew off with the swallow through the air, over woods and lakes, valleys and mountains. Very often Ellise suffered from the cold when they went over icy glaciers and snowy rocks; but then she concealed herself under the wings and among the feathers of the bird, and merely put out her head to gaze and wonder at all the glorious things around her.

"Here is my house," said he, "but look you for one of the loveliest flowers, which grow down there, for your home, and I will carry you there, and you shall have every thing you can possibly want."

"That would be glorious indeed!" said Ellise, and she clapped her hands together for very joy.

Upon the earth there lay a large white marble pillar, which had been thrown down, and was broken into three pieces, but between its ruins there grew the very fairest flowers, all white, the loveliest you would ever wish to see.

The swallow flew with Ellise to one of these flowers, and set her down upon a broad leaf; but how astonished was Ellise when she saw that a wee little man sat in this flower, who was as fine and transparent as glass. He wore a graceful little crown upon his head, and had beautiful wings on his shoulders; and withal he was not a bit bigger than Ellise herself. He was the angel of this flower. In every flower dwell a pair of such like little men and women, but this was the king of all the flower angels.

"Heavens! how handsome this king is," whispered Ellise into the ear of the swallow. The little prince was somewhat startled by the arrival of the large bird; but when he saw Ellise, he became instantly in love with her; for she was the most charming little maiden that he had ever seen. So he took off his golden crown, set it upon Ellise, and asked what was her name, and whether she would be his wife; if so, she should be queen over all the other flowers--ah! this was a very different husband to the son of the hideous toad, and the heavy, stupid mole, with his velvet coat! So Ellise said yes, to the beautiful prince; and now, from all the other flowers, appeared either a gentleman or a lady, all wonderfully elegant and beautiful, to bring presents to Ellise. The best presents offered to her was a pair of exquisite white wings, which were immediately fastened on her; and now she could fly from flower to flower.

And now the joy was universal. The little swallow sat above in his nest, and sang as well as he possibly could, though at the same time he was sorely grieved, for he was so fond of Ellise that he wanted never to part from her again.

"Farewell! Farewell!" cried the little swallow, and away he flew again, out of the warm land, far, far away, to the little Denmark, where he had his summer nest over the window of the good man, who knows how to tell stories, that he might sing his Quivit! Quivit! before him. And it is from him, the little swallow, that Granny learnt all this wonderful history.

BELLE'S EYES.

"THE PAGE."

Come listen, ladies! listen, knights! Ye men of arms and glory! Ye who have done right noble deeds, Aye love the poet's story. As minstrels love the warriors bold, And joyfully sing their fame, O'er warriors' hearts the poet's tale Shall peaceful triumphs claim.

From distant lands Arion came, From wandering far and long, With gifts and gold--for princely hearts Denied no gift to song. The song that cheered the saddest wo, The tale that sings of youth, Flowing sweetly, flowing on, Through labyrinths of truth.

Rich tributes had been poured on him, Arion far renowned, And fair and gentle loved the rule, Of one by nature crowned. But what can gifts and what can gold, Or Fame's loud peal avail, Wandering from his childhood's home, His own Corinthian vale?

LINES

WRITTEN ON ST. VALENTINE'S DAY.

BY GEO. D. PRENTICE.

Fair lady, on this day of love, My spirit, like a timid dove, Exulting flies to thee for rest, And nestles on thy gentle breast. Thou seemest of my life a part, A haunting presence in my heart, A glory in my day-dreams bright, An angel in my dreams at night, Like yon pure bow of airy birth A vision more of heaven than earth. Soft, lovely, beautiful, divine-- But wilt thou be my Valentine?

I've looked into thy deep eyes oft, Where heaven seemed sleeping blue and soft. I've gazed on all thy beauty long, I've heard thy witching voice of song, I've listened when thy deep words came As if thy lips were touched with flame, I've marked thee smile, I've marked thee weep. I've blest thee in the hour of sleep, I've felt thy heart beat wild to hear Love's cadence stealing on thine ear, And I have been supremely blest When thou wast folded to my breast, And thy dear lips were pressed to mine-- But wilt thou be my Valentine?

Dove of my spirit! gentle dove, That bring'st the olive-bough of love To me when waters vast and dark Are tossing wild beneath my bark, Sweet queller of my bosom's strife, Blest haunter of each thought of life. Dear brightner of my soul's eclipse, Sultana of my longing lips, Queen-fairy of my fairy dreams, Young Naiad of my soul's deep streams, Bright rainbow of life's stormy day, Lone palm-tree of my desert way, Soft dew-drop of my heart's one flower, Young song-bird of my spirit's bower, My star when all beside is dim, My morning prayer, my evening hymn, My hope, my bliss, my life, my love, My all of earth, my heaven above, On lightning pinions wild and free, My panting spirit flies to thee, And worships at thy burning shrine-- But wilt thou be my Valentine?

"What do the Birds say?"

Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove, The linnet, and thrush say, "I love, and I love!" In the winter they're silent--the wind is so strong; What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud song. But green leaves and blossoms and sunny warm weather, And singing and loving, all come back together. But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, The green-fields below him, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings, and forever sings he, "I love my love, and my love loves me!"

LEORA.

A BALLAD OF SPAIN.

At her lattice sits Leora, In the long and mellow June, What time when whitely westward Shines the round and pendent moon.

Sits she silent, sits she sadly, With her head upon her hand, Looking outward where the Ebro Throws its ripples on the sand.

Never lighter blew the breezes In the vales of Aragon, Never smiled Hesperia's heavens With more lovely glories on.

Such an evening 'tis as gladdens Cavaliers of sunny Spain-- Such an evening 'tis when maidens Recount their loves again.

Now more restless grows Leora, Fair Leora, gentle maid, With sweet eyes so dark and fervent, And each tress of nightly shade.

Heaves her bosom fast and wildly Like a billow snowed with foam, For there's something boding tells her That Almagro will not come.

Clouds are passing swiftly o'er her, On her heart their shadows rest, And the tear-drops from their fountains Fall embittered to her breast.

Listens now she to the gallop Of a steed adown the vale; Now with hope her face is radiant, Now with fear her cheek is pale.

But no lover rideth swiftly, Swiftly to the trysting bower, And Leora still is waiting Through the long and dreary hour.

And the tears cease not to gather, And the tears cease not to flow, And she feels like one abandoned On the haunted paths of wo.

Where a mountain streamlet gurgles, From that watcher leagues away-- Where the hours amid the valleys Listen to the waters' play--

Faithless Almagro is breathing Vows of deeply passioned love, To a maiden on his bosom In the sweetness of a dove.

And he tells her how he never To another gave his heart, Till her innocence is fallen In the meshes of his art.

Till another than the midnight Throws a darkness o'er her soul, Leaving there a troubled fountain, Leaving there a broken bowl.

Softly sigh the sleeping branches On the bosom of the breeze, Sweetly stars are gazing downward To earth's blue, unclouded seas:

And in fragrance dream the blossoms Pure and taintless as before-- But heart-flowers have been gathered That shall blossom nevermore.

Lowly westward walketh Dian, On her watches with the night, And the hours far have stolen To the gateways of the light.

But, ah! wo is thee, Leora, Though hopeless, hoping on, Till Aurora up the Orient, Rosy-fingered, leads the dawn.

SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS.

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