0:. ; 'vi: ' : : v : .::,,-:\';;:. ■ ■:i:\ R;'-Y \% University of California • Berkeley Gift of THE HEARST CORPORATION Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from Microsoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/flyingislandsofnOOrilerich 36e tbe Same Sutbor, Neghborly Poems on Friendship, Grief and Farm-Life— Including "The Old Swimmin' Hole " Series— Exclusively in IToosier Dia- lect and Character. Sketches in Prose— With Occasional Poems. Afterwhiles— Serious and Dialect Poetry. Pipes o' Pan— Five Sketches and Fifty Poems. Rhymes of Childhood — Child-Dialect and Other Verses. The Flying Islands of the Night— A Fantas- tic Drama in Verse. The Above Books Published by THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO., Indianapolis. IN ENGLAND : Old-fashioned Roses — Poems, Dialect and Various. Longmans, Green & Co., London. THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 'A thynge of wytchencref—an idle dreme.' 1 INDIANAPOLIS THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO. 1892 Copyright 1891 BY JAMES W. RILEY TO MADISON CAWEIN FOR the Song's sake ; even so : Humor it, and let it go All untamed and wild of wing — Leave it ever truanting. Re its flight elusive. — Lo, For the Song's sake — even so. Yield it but an ear as kind As thou perkest to the wind. IV ho will name us what the seas Have sung on for centuries ? For the Song's sake ! Even so — Sing, O Seas ! and Breezes, blow J Sing ! or Wave or Wind or Bird- Sing ! nor ever afterward Clear thy meaning to us — No ! — For the Song's sake. Even so. The Flying Islands of the Night. DRAMATIS PERSONS. KRUNG, King— of the Spirks. CRESTILLOMEEM, The Queen—Second Consort to Krung. SPRAIVOLL, The Tune-Fool. AMPHINE, Prince— Son of Krung. DWAIN1E, A Princess— of the Wunks. JUCKLET, A Dwarf— of the Spirks. CREECH*** ) Nightmares. GRITCHFANG, J Counselors, Courtiers, Heralds, etc., etc., etc. ACT I. SCENE-THE FLYING ISLANDS. SCENE I. Spirkland. Time, Moondawn. Interior of Court of KRUNG. A vast, pendant star burns dimly in the dome above the throne. CRESTILLOMEEM discovered languidly reclining at foot of empty throne, an overturned goblet lying near, as though just drained. The Queen in seeming da^ed, ecstatic state, r aptly gating upward and listening. Swarm- ing forms and faces, in air above, seen eeriely coming and going, blending and intermingling in domed ceiling-spaces of the court. Weird music. Mystic, luminous, beautiful faces detached from swarm, float, singly, forward, tremu- lously, and in succession, poising in mid-air and chanting. THE FLYING ISLANDS FIRST FACE. And who hath known her— like as / Have known her?— since the envying sky Filched from her cheeks its morning-hue, And from her eyes its glory, too, Of dazzling shine and diamond dew. Second Face. / knew her— long and long before High JEo loosed her palm and thought: " What awful splendor have I wrought To dazzle earth and Heaven, too ! " THIRD FACE. I knew her— long ere night was o'er— Ere JEo yet conjectured what ' To fashion day of— aye, before He sprinkled stars across the floor Of night, and swept that form of mine, E'en as a fleck of blinded shine, Back to the black where light was not. FOURTH FACE. Ere day was dreamt, I saw her face Lift from some starry hiding-place OF THE NIGHT. Where our old moon was kneeling while She lit its features with her smile. Fifth Face. I knew her while these islands yet Were nestlings — ere they feathered wing, Or e'en could gape with them, or get Apoise the laziest-ambling breeze, Or cheep, chirp out, or anything !- When Time crooned rhymes of nurseries Above them— nodded, dozed and slept, And knew it not, till, wakening, The morning stars began to sing, And Heaven's first tender clews were wept. Sixth Face. I knew her when the jealous hands Of Angels set her sculptured form Upon a pedestal of storm And let her to this land with strands Of twisted lightnings. Seventh face. And I heard Her voice ere she could tone a word THE FLYING ISLANDS Of any but the Seraph-tongue. — And O, sad-sweeter than all sung Or word-said things !— to hear her say, Between the tears she dashed away:— " Lo, launched from the offended sight Of JEo !— anguish infinite Is ours, O Sisterhood of Sin ! Yet is thy service mine by right, And sweet as I may rule it, thus Shall Sin's myrrh-savor taste to us — Sin's Empress— let my reign begin ! " CHORUS OF SWARMING FACES. We follow thee forever on ! Through darkest night and dimmest dawn ; Through storm and calm — through shower and shine, Hear thou our voices answering thine : We follow — craving but to be Thy followers.— We follow thee— We follow, follow, follow thee ! We follow ever on and on — O'er hill and hollow, brake and lawn ; Through gruesome vale and dread ravine Where light of day is never seen.— OF THE NIGHT. We waver not in loyalty,— Unfaltering we follow thee — We follow, follow, follow thee ! We follow ever on and on ! The shroud of night around us drawn, Though wet with mists, is wild-ashine With stars that light that path of thine ;— The glowworms, too, befriend us— we Shall fail not as we follow thee. We follow, follow, follow thee ! We follow ever on and on.— The notched reeds we pipe upon Are pithed with music, keener blown And blither where thou leadest lone — Glad pangs of its ecstatic glee Shall reach thee as we follow thee. We follow, follow, follow thee ! We follow ever on and on : We know the ways thy feet have gone,— The grass is greener, and the bloom Of roses richer in perfume — And birds of every blooming tree Sing sweeter as we follow thee. We follow, follow, follow thee ! 6 THE FLYING ISLANDS We follow ever on and on ; For wheresoever thou hast gone We hasten joyous, knowing there Is sweeter sin than otherwhere — Leave still its latest cup, that we May drain it as we follow thee. We follow, follow, follow thee ! [Throughout final stanzas, faces in fore-, and forms in back- ground, slowly vanish, and voices gradually fail to sheer silence. CRESTILLOMEEM rising, and wistfully gating and listening; then, evidently regaining wonted self, looks to be assured of being utterly alone — then speaks.] CRESTILLOMEEM. The Throne is throwing wide its gilded arms To welcome me. The Throne of Krung ! Ha ! ha ! Leap up, ye lazy echoes, and laugh loud ! For I, Crestillomeem, the Queen — ha ! ha ! Do fling my richest mirth into your mouths That ye may fatten ripe with mockery ! I marvel what the kingdom would become Were I not here to nurse it like a babe And dandle it above the reach and clutch Of intermeddlers in the royal line OF THE NIGHT. 7 And their attendant serfs. Ho ! Jucklet, ho ! 'Tis time my knarled warp of nice anatomy Were here, to weave us on upon our mesh Of silken villainies. Ho! Jucklet, ho! [Lifts secret door tn pave and drops a star-bud through the opening. Enter JUCKLET from below.~\ JUCKLET. Spang sprit! my gracious Queen ! but thou hast scorched My left ear to a cinder ! and my head Rings like a ding-dong on the coast of death ! For, patient hate ! thy hasty signal burst Full in my face as hitherward I came ! But though my lug be fried to crisp, and my Singed wig stinks like a little sun-stewed Wunk, I stretch my fragrant presence at thy feet And kiss thy sandal with a blistered lipc CRESTILLOMEEM. Hold ! rare-done fool, lest I may bid the cook To bake thee brown ! How fares the King by this? JUCKLET. I left him sleeping like a quinsied babe Next the guest-chamber of a poor man's house: 8 THE FLYING ISLANDS But ere I came away to rest mine ears, I salved his welded lids, uncorked his nose, And o'er the odorous blossom of his lips Re-squeezed the tinctured sponge, and felt his pulse Come staggering back to regularity. And four hours hence his Highness will awake And Peace will take a nap ! CRESTILLOMEEM. Ha! What mean you? JUCKLET. [Ominously.] I mean that he suspects our knaveries. — Some covert spy is burrowed in the court- Nay, and I pray thee startle not aloud, But mute thy very heart in its out-throb, And let the blenching of thy cheeks but be A whispering sort of pallor ! CRESTILLOMEEM. A spy?— Here? JUCKLET. Aye, here— and haply even now. And one Whose unseen eye seems ever focused keen OF THE NIGHT. Upon our action, and whose hungering ear Eats every crumb of counsel that we drop In these our secret interviews ! — For he — The King— through all his talking-sleep to-day Hath jabbered of intrigue; conspiracy — Of treachery and hate in fellowship, With dire designs upon his royal bulk, To oust it from the Throne. CRESTILLOMEEM. He spake my name? JUCKLET. O Queen, he speaks not ever but thy name Makes melody of every sentence. — Yea, He thinks thee even true to him as thou Art fickle, false and subtle ! O how blind And lame, and deaf and dumb, and worn and weak, And faint, and sick, and all-commodious His dear love is ! CRESTILLOMEEM. Wilt thou wind up thy tongue, Nor let it tangle in a knot of words ! What said the King? 2 io THE FLYING ISLANDS JUCKLET. He said : " Crestillomeem— O that she knew this great distress of mine ! For she would counsel with me, and her voice Would flow in limpid wisdom o'er my wounds, And, like a love-balm, lave my secret grief And lull my sleepless heart ! "—And so went on, Struggling all maudlin in the wrangled web That well nigh hath cocooned him ! CRESTILLOMEEM. Did he yield No hint of this mysterious distress He needs must hold sequestered from his Queen ? What said he in his talking-sleep by which Some clue were gained of how and when and whence His trouble came? JUCKLET. In one strange phase he spake As though some sprited lady talked with him. — Full courteously he said : " In woman's guise Thou comest, yet I think thou art, in sooth, But woman in thy form.— Thy words are strangt OF THE NIGHT. II And leave me mystified. I feel the truth Of all thou hast declared, and yet so vague And shadow-like thy meaning is to me, I know not how to act to ward the blow Thou sayest is hanging o'er me even now." And then, with open hands held pleadingly, He asked, " Who is my foe? "—And o'er his face A sudden pallor flashed, like death itself, As though, if answer had been given, it Had fallen like a curse. CRESTILLOMEEM. I '11 stake my soul Thrice over in the grinning teeth of doom, 'Tis Dwainie of the Wunks who peeks and peers With those fine eyes of hers in our affairs, And carries Krung, in some disguise, these hints Of our intent ! See thou that silence falls Forever on her lips, and that the sight She wastes upon our secret action blurs With gray and grisly skum that shall for aye Conceal us from her gaze while she writhes blind And fangless as the fat worms of the grave ! Here ! take this tuft of downy druze, and when 12 THE FLYING ISLANDS Thou comest on her, fronting full and fair, Say " Sher^ham ! " thrice, and fluff it in her face. JUCKLET. Thou knowest scanty magic, O my Queen, But all thou dost is fairly excellent— An this charm work, thou shalt have fuller faith Than still I must withhold. [Takes charm, with extravagant salutation.] CRESTILLOMEEM. Thou gibing knave ! Thou thing ! Dost dare to name my sorcery As any trifling gift? Behold what might Be thine an thy deserving wavered not In stable and abiding service to Thy Queen ! [She presses suddenly her palm upon his eyes, then lifts her softly-opening hand upward, his ga^e fol- lowing, where, slowly shaping in the air above them, ap- pears the counter-self of CRESTILLOMEEM, clothed in most radiant youth, her maiden-face bent downward to a moonlit sward, where kneels a lover-knight, flawless in manly symmetry and princely beauty,— yet none other than the counterpart of JUCKLET, eeriely and with strange sweetness singing, to some curiously-tinkling instrument, the OF THE NIGHT. 13 praises of its queenly mistress : JUCKLET and CRESTIL- LOMEEM transfixed below and trancedly gating on their mystic selves above.'] SEMBLANCE OF JUCKLET— SINGS. Crestillomeem ! Crestillomeem ! Soul of my slumber ! Dream of my dream ! Moonlight may fall not as goldenly fair As falls the gold of thine opulent hair- Nay, nor the starlight as daringly gleam As gleam thine eyes, 'Meema — Crestillomeem ! — Stars of the skies, 'Meema — Crestillomeem ! SEMBLANCE OF CRESTILLOMEEM— SINGS. O Prince divine I O Prince divine ! Tempt thou me not with that sweet voice of thine! Though my proud brow bear the bla^e of a crown, Lo, at thy feet must its glory bow down, That from the dust thou may est lift me to shine Heaven* d in thy heart's rapture, O Prince divine! — Queen of thy love ever, O Prince divine! 14 THE FLYING ISLANDS SEMBLANCE OF J UCK LET— SINGS. Crestillomeem ! Crestillomeem ! Our life shall flow as a musical stream — Windingly— placidly on shall it wend, Marged with matfioora-bloom banks without end — Word-birds shall call thee and dreamily scream, " Where dost thou cruise, 'Meema — Crestillomeem ? Witheraway, 'Meema ? — Crestillomeem /" DUO. [Vision and voices gradually failing away."] Crestillomeem ! Crestillomeem ! Soul of my slumber! Dream of my dream i Star of Love's light, 'Meema — Crestillomeem i Crescent of Night, 'Meema ! — Crestillomeem ! CRESTILLOMEEM. How now, thou clabber-brained spudge !- Thou squelk !— thou— CF THE NIGHT. 15 JUCKLET. Nay, O Queen ! contort me not To more condensed littleness than now My shamed frame incurreth on itself, Seeing what might fare with it, didst thou will Kindly to nip it with thy magic here, And leave it living in that form i' the air, Forever pranking o'er the daisied sward In wake of sandal-prints that dint the dews As lightly as, in thy late maidenhood, Thine own must needs have done in flighting from The dread encroachments of the King. CRESTILLOMEEM. Nay— peace ! JUCKLET. So be it, O sweet Mystic— But I crave One service of thy magic yet. — Amphine!— Breed me some special, damned philter for Amphine— the fair Amphine !— to chuck it him, Some serenade-tide, in a sodden slug O' pastry, 'twixt the door-crack and a screech O' rusty hinges. — Hey ! Amphine the rare ! — And let me, too, elect his doom, O Queen !— 16 THE FLYING ISLANDS Listed against thee, he, too, doubtless hath Been favored with an outline of our scheme,— And I would kick my soul all over hell If I might juggle his fine figure up In such a shape as mine! CRESTILLOMEEM. Then this :— When thou Canst come upon him bent above a flower, Or any blooming thing, and thou, arear, Shalt reach it first and, thwartwise, touch it fair, And with thy knuckle flick him on the knee, — Then— his fine form will shrink and shrivel up As warty as a toad's— so hideous, Thine own shall seem a marvel of rare grace ! Though idly speak'st thou of my mystic skill, ' Twas that which won the King for me : ' Twas that Bereft him of his daughter ere we had Been wedded yet a haed :— She strangely went Astray one moonset from the palace-steps— She went— nor yet returned.— Was it not strange ?— She would be wedded to an alien prince The morrow midnight— to a prince whose sire / once knew j in lost hours of lute and song, OF THE NIGHT. 17 When he was but a prince—/ but a mouth For him to lift up sippingly and drain To lees most ultimate of stammering sobs And maudlin wanderings of blinded breath. JUCKLET. [Aside.] Twigg-brebblets .' but her Majesty hath speech That doth bejuice all metaphor to drip And spray and mist of sweetness ! CRESTILLOMEEM. [Confusedly.] Where was I ? O, aye !— the princess went— she strangely went !— E'en as I deemed her lover-princeling would As strangely go, were she not soon restored. — As so he did : — That airy penalty The jocund Fates provide our love-lorn wights In this glad island : So for thrice three nights They spun the prince his line and marked him pay It out (despite all warnings of his doom) In fast and sleepless search for her— and then They tripped his fumbling feet and he fell— UP !— Up!— as 'tis writ— sheer past Heaven's flinching walls And topmost cornices. — Up — up and on ! — And it is grimly guessed of those who thus 18 THE FLYING ISLANDS For such a term bemoan an absent love, And so fall upwise, they must needs fall on— And on and on — and on— and on— and on ! Ha! ha! JUCKLET. Quahh ! but the prince's holden breath Must ache his throat by this ! But, O my Queen, What of the princess ?— and — Crestillomeem. The princess ? — Aye — The princess ! Aye, she went— she strangely went ! And when the dainty vagrant came not back- Both sire and son in apprehensive throes Of royal grief— the very Throne befogged In sighs and tears !— when all hope waned at last, And all the spies of Spirkland, in her quest, Came straggling empty-handed home again, — Why, then the wise King sleeved his rainy eyes And sagely thought the pretty princess had Strayed to the island's edge and tumbled off. I could have set his mind at ease on that. — I could have told h\m,yea, she tumbled off— / tumbled her!— and tumbled her so plump, OF THE NIGHT. 19 She tumbled in an under-island, then Just slow-unmooring from our own and poised For unknown voyagings of flight afar And all remote of latitudes of ours. — Aye, into that land I tumbled her, from which But one charm known to art can tumble her Back into this, and that charm, guilt be praised ! Is lodged not in the wit nor the desire Of my rare lore. JUCKLET. Thereinasmuch find joy ! But dost thou know that rumors flutter now Among thy subjects of thy sorceries ?— The art being banned, thou knowest ; or, unhoused, Is unleashed pitilessly by the grim, Facetious body of the dridular Upon the one who fain had loosed the curse On others.— An my counsel be worth ought, Then have a care thy spells do not revert Upon thyself, nor yet mine own poor hulk O' fearsomeness ! CRESTILLOMEEM. Ha ! ha ! No vaguest need Of apprehension there !— While Krung remains— 20 THE FLYING ISLANDS [She abruptly pauses — startled first, then listening curiously and with awed interest. Voice of exquisite melodiousness and fervor heard singing."] VOICE. When kings are kings, and kings are men — And the lonesome rain is raining ! — O who shall rule from the red throne then, And who shall covet the scepter when— When the winds are all complaining? When men are men, and men are kings— And the lonesome rain is raining! — O who shall list as the minstrel sings Of the crown's fiat, or the signet-ring's, When the winds are all complaining? CRESTILLOMEEM. Whence flows such sweetness, and what voice is that? JUCKLET. The voice of Spraivoll, an mine ears be perked And whetted o' late honied memories Behaunting the deserted purlieus of The court. OF THE NIGHT. 21 CRESTILLOMEEM. And who is Spraivoll, and what song Is that she sings so blinding exquisite Of cadenced mystery? JUCFCLET. Spraivoll— O Queen,— Spraivoll the Tune-Fool is she called By those who meet her ere the day long wanes And naught but janiteerlng sparsely frets The cushioned silences and stagnant dusts Indifferently resuscitated by The drowsy varlets in mock servitude Of so refurbishing the royal halls : She cometh, alien, from Wunkland— so Hath she deposed to divers questioners Who have been smitten of her voice— as rich In melody as she is poor in caste and intellect. She hath been roosting, pitied of the hinds And scullions, round about the palace here For half a node. CRESTILLOMEEM. And pray, where is she perched^ This wildbird-woman with her wondrous throat? 22 THE FLYING ISLANDS JUCKLET. Under some dingy cornice, like enough— Though wildbird she is not, being plumed in, Not feathers, but one fustioned stole— the like Of which so shameth her fair face one needs Must swear some lusty oaths, but that they shape Themselves full gentlewise in mildest prayer :— Not wildbird;— nay, nor woman— though, in truth, She is a licensed idiot, and drifts About, as restless and as useless, too, As any lazy breeze in summertime. I '11 call her forth to greet your Majesty. Ho ! Spraivoll ! Ho ! my twittering birdster, flit Thou hither. [Enter SPRAIVOLL— from behind group of statuary — singing."} Spraivoll. Ting-aling ! Ling-ting ! Tingle-tee ! The moon spins round and round for me ! Wind it up with a golden key. Ting-aling ! Ling-ting ! Tingle-tee ! CRESTILLOMEEM. Who art thou, and what the strange Elusive beauty and intent of thy OF THE NIGHT. 23 Sweet song ? What singest thou, vague, mystic-bird — What doth the Tune-Fool sing? Aye, sing me what. SPRAIVOLL. [Singing.] What sings the breene on the wertling-vine, And the tweck on the bamner-stem ? Their song, to me, is the same as mine, As mine is the same to them— to them — As mine is the same to them. In star-starved glooms where the plustre looms With its slender boughs above, Their song sprays down with the fragrant blooms,— And the song they sing is love— is love — And the song they sing is love. JUCKLET. Your Majesty may be surprised somewhat, But Spraivoll can not talk, her only mode Of speech is melody ; and thou mightst put The dowered fool a thousand queries, and, In like return, receive a thousand songs, All set to differing tunes— as full of naught As space is full of emptiness. 24 THE FLYING ISLANDS CRESTILLOMEEM. A fool?— And with a gift so all-divine !— A fool? JUCKLET. Aye, warranted !— The Flying Islands all Might flock in mighty counsel — moult, and shake Their loosened feathers, and sort every tuft, . Nor ever most minutely quarry there One other Spraivoll, itching with her voice Such favored spot of cuticle as she Alone selects here in our blissful realm. CRESTILLOMEEM. Out, jester, on thy cumbrous wordiness ! Come hither, Tune-Fool, and be not afraid, For I like feols so well I married one : And since thou art a Queen of fools, and he A King, why, I've a mind to bring you two Together in some wise. Canst use thy song All times in such entrancing spirit, one Who lists must so needs list, e'en though the song Go on unceasingly indefinite? OF THE NIGHT. 2$ SPRAIVOLL. [Singing.'] If one should ask me for a song, Then I should answer, and my tongue Would twitter, trill and troll along Until the song were done. Or should one ask me for my tongue, And I should answer with a song, I 'd trill it till the song were sung, And troll it all along. CRESTILLOMEEM. Thou art indeed a fool, and one, I think, To serve my present purposes. Give ear. — And Jucklet, thou, go to the King and bide His waking : then repeat these words :— " The Queen Impatiently awaits his Majesty, And craves his presence in the Tower of Stars, That she may there express full tenderly Her great solicitude." And then, end thus, — " So much she bade, and drooped her glowing face Deep in the showerings of her golden hair, And with a flashing gesture of her arm Turned all the moonlight pallid, saying, 'Haste ! ' " 3 26 THE FLYING ISLANDS JUCKLET. And would it not be well to hang a pearl Or twain upon thy silken lashes ? CRESTlLLOMEEM. Go! [Exit Jucklet.] Now, Tune-Fool, let me give thee topic for A song : An Empress once, with angel in Her face and devil in her heart, had wish To breed confusion to her sovereign lord, And work the downfall of his haughty son — The issue of a former marriage — who Bellowsed her hatred to the whitest heat, For that her own son, by a former lord, Was born a hideous dwarf, and reared aside From the sire's knowing or his own — That none, in sooth, might ever chance to guess The hapless mother of the hapless child. The Fiends that scar her thus, protect her still With outward beauty of both face and form. — It is so written, and must so remain Till magic greater than their own is found To hurl against her. So is she secure And proof above all fear. Soh ! listen well !— OF THE NIGHT. 27 Her present lord is haunted with a dream That he is soon to die, and so prepares {All havoc hath been wrangled with the drugs!) The Throne for the ascension of the son, His cursed heir, who still doth baffle all Her arts against him, e'en as though he were Protected by a skill beyond her own. Soh ! she, the Queen, doth rule the King in all Save this affectionate perversity Of favor for the son whom he would raise To his own place.— And but for this the King Long since had tasted death and kissed his fate As one might kiss a bride ! But so his Queen Must needs withhold, not deal, the final blow, She yet doth bind him, spelled, still trusting her ; And, by her craft and wanton flatteries, Doth sway his love to every purpose but The one most coveted. — And for this end She would make use of thee ; — and if thou dost Her will, as her good pleasure shall direct, Why, thou shalt sing at court, in silken tire, Thy brow bound with wild diamonds, and thy hair Sown with such gems as laugh hysteric lights From glittering quespar, guenk and plennocynth,— 28 THE FLYING ISLANDS Aye, even panoplied as might the fair Form of a very princess be, thy voice Shall woo the echoes of the listening Throne. SPRAIVOLL. {Crooning abstractedly.'] And O ! shall one — high brother of the air, In deeps of space — shall he have dream as fair ? — And shall that dream be this? — In some strange place Of long-lost lands he finds her waiting face — Comes marveling upon it, unaware, Set moonwise in the midnight of her hair, And is behaunted with old nights of May, So his glad lips do purl a roundelay Purloined from the echo-triller's beak, Seen keenly notching at some star's blanch cheek With its ecstatic twitterings, through dusk And sheen of dewy boughs of bloom and musk. For him, Love, light again the eyes of her That show nor tears, nor laughter, nor surprise— For him undim their glamour and the blur Of dreams drawn from the depths of deepest skies. He doth not know if any lily blows As fair of feature, nor of any rose. OF THE NIGHT. 29 CRESTILLOMEEM. [Aside.] O this weird woman ! she doth drug mine ears With her uncanny sumptuousness of songL [To Spraivoll.~\ Nay, nay! Give o'er thy tuneful maunder- ings And mark me further, Tune-Fool — aye, and well : — At present doth the King lie in a sleep Drug-wrought and deep as death— the after-phase Of an unconscious state, in which each act Of his throughout his waking hours is so Rehearsed, in manner, motion, deed and word, Her spies (the Queen's) that watch him, serving there As guardians o'er his royal slumbers, may Inform her of her lord's most secret thought. And lo, her plans have ripened even now Till, should he come upon his Throne to-night, Where eagerly his counselors will bide His coming,— she, the Queen, hath reason to Suspect her long-designed purposes May fall in jeopardy ;— but if he fail, Through any means, to lend his presence there, — Then, by a wheedled mandate, is his Queen Empowered with all Sovereignty to reign And work the royal purposes instead. 3Q THE FLYING ISLANDS Therefore, the Queen hath set an interview — A conference to be holden with the King, Which is ordained to fall on noon to-night, Twelve star-twirls ere the nick the Throne convenes.— And with her thou shalt go, and bide in wait Until she signal thee to sing ; and then Shalt thou so work upon his mellow mood With that unSpirkly magic of thy voice- So all bedaze his waking thought with dreams, — The Queen may, all unnoticed, slip away, And leave thee singing to a throneless King. SPRAIVOLL. [Singing.] And who shall sing for the haughty son While the good King droops his head ?— And will he dream, when the song is done, That a princess fair lies dead? CRESTILLOMEEM. The haughty son hath found his " Song " — sweet curse !- And may she sing his everlasting dirge ! She comes from that near-floating land of thine, Naming herself a princess of that realm So strangely peopled we would fain evade All mergence, and remain as strange to them OF THE NIGHT. 31 As they to us. No less this Dwainie hath Most sinuously writhed and lithed her way Into court-favor here— hath glidden past The King's encharmed sight and sleeked herself Within the very altars of his house — His line— his blood— his very life \-AMPHMEl Not any Spirkland gentlemaiden might Aspire so high as she hath dared to dare !— For she, with her fair skin and finer ways, And beauty second only to the Queen's, Hath caught the Prince betwixt her mellow palms And stroked him flutterless. Didst ever thou In thy land hear of Dwainie of the IVunks ? SPRAIVOLL. [Singing.] Ay, Dwainie ! My Dwainie ! The lurloo ever sings, A tremor in his flossy crest And in his glossy wings. And Dwainie !— My Dwainie ! The winno-welvers call ; — But Dwainie hides in Spirkland And answers not at all. 32 THE FLYING ISLANDS The teeper twitters Dwainie!— The tcheucker on his spray Teeters up and down the wind And will not fly away : And Dwainie ! — My Dwainie ! The drowsy oovers drawl ; — But Dwainie hides in Spirkland And answers not at all. O Dwainie ! — My Dwainie ! The breezes hold their breath— The stars are pale as blossoms, And the night as still as death : And Dwainie ! — My Dwainie ! The fainting echoes fall ;— But Dwainie hides in Spirkland And answers not at all. CRESTILLOMEEM. A melody ecstatic ! and thy words, Although so meaningless, seem something more— A vague and shadowy something, eerie-like, That maketh one to shiver over-chilled With curious, creeping sweetnesses of pain, OF THE NIGHT. 33 And catching breaths that flutter tremulous With sighs that dry the throat out icily. — But save thy music ! Come ! that I may make Thee ready for thy royal auditor. [Exeunt.'] END ACT !. 34 THE FLYING ISLANDS ACT II. SCENE II. A garden of KRUNG'S Palace, screened from the moon with netted glenk-vines and blooming \hoomer-boughs, all glimmeringly lighted with star-flakes. An arbor, near which is a table spread with a repast — two seats, drawn either side. A playing fountain, at marge of which AM- PHINE sits thrumming a trentoraine. AMPHINE. [Improvising.^ Ah, help me ! but her face and brow Are lovelier than lilies are Beneath the light of moon and star That smile as they are smiling now- White lilies in a pallid swoon Of sweetest white beneath the moon- White lilies, in a flood of bright Pure lucidness of liquid light Cascading down some plenilune, When all the azure overhead Blooms like a dazzling daisy-bed — So luminous her face and brow, OF THE NIGHT. 35 The luster of their glory, shed In memory, even, blinds me now. [Plaintively addressing instrument.'] O warbling strand of silver, where, O where Hast thou unraveled that sweet voice of thine And left its silken murmurs quavering In limp thrills of delight? O golden wire, Where hast thou spilled thy precious twinkerings ? — What thirsty ear hath drained thy melody, And left me but a wild, delirious drop To tincture all my soul with vain desire? [Improvising.] Her face— her brow— her hair unfurled !— And O the oval chin below, Carved, like a cunning cameo, With one exquisite dimple, swirled With swimming shine and shade, and whirled The daintiest vortex poets know— The sweetest whirlpool ever twirled By Cupid's finger-tip,— and so, The deadliest maelstrom in the world. [Pauses.— Enter DWAINIE unperceived.] 36 THE FLYING ISLANDS AMPH1NE. [Again addressing instrument.] O Trentoraine ! how like an emptied vase Thou art— whose clustering blooms of song have drooped And faded, one by one, and fallen away, And left to me but dry and tuneless stems, And crisp and withered tendrils of a voice Whose thrilling tone, now like a throttled sound, Lies stifled, faint, and gasping all in vain For utterance. \_Again improvising.'] And O mad wars of blinding blurs And flashings of lance-blades of light, Whet glitteringly athwart the sight That dares confront those eyes of hers I Let any dew-drop soak the hue Of any violet through and through, And then be colorless and dull, Compared with eyes so beautiful ! I swear ye that her eyes be bright As noonday, yet as dark as night — As bright as be the burnished bars Of rainbows set in sunny skies, And yet as deep and dark, her eyes, And lustrous black as blown-out stars. OF THE NIGHT. 37 [Pauses — DWAINIE still unperceived, radiantly smiling and wafting kisses down from trellis-window above.] AMPHINE. [Again to instrument.] O empty husk of song ! If deep within my heart the music thou Hast stored away might find an issuance, A fount of limpid laughter would leap up And gurgle from my lips, and all the winds Would revel with it, riotous with joy ; And Dwainie, in her beauty, would lean o'er The battlements of night, and, like the moon, The glory of her face would light the world— For I would sing of love. * DWAINIE. And she would hear, — And, reaching overhead among the stars, Would scatter them like daisies at thy feet. AMPHINE. O voice, where art thou floating on the air?— Seraph-soul, where art thou hovering? DWAINIE. 1 hover in the zephyr of thy sighs, And tremble lest thy love for me shall fail 38 THE FLYING ISLANDS To buoy me thus forever on the breath Of such a dream as Heaven envies. AMPHINE. Ah! [Turning, discovers DWAINIE — she feigning still invisibility, while he, with lifted eyes and wistful ga%e, preludes with instrument — then sings. ,] Linger, my Dwainie ! Dwainie, lily-fair, Stay yet thy step upon the casement-stair— Poised be thy slipper-tip as is the tine Of some still star.— Ah, Dwainie— Dwainie mine, Yet linger— linger there ! Thy face, O Dwainie, lily-pure and fair, Gleams i' the dusk, as in thy dusky hair The moony zhoomer glimmers, or the shine Of thy swift smile. — Ah, Dwainie — Dwainie mine, Yet linger— linger there ! With lifted wrist, whereround the laughing air Hath blown a mist of lawn and claspt it there, Waft finger-thipt adieus that spray the wine Of thy waste kisses to'rd me, Dwainie mine — Yet linger— linger there! OF THE NIGHT. 30 What unloosed splendor is there may compare With thy hand's unfurled glory, anywhere ? What glint of dazzling dew or jewel fine May mate thine eyes? — Ah, Dwainie — Dwainie mine ! Yet linger— linger there ! My soul confronts thee : On thy brow and hair It lays its tenderness like palms of prayer- It touches sacredly those lips of thine And swoons across thy spirit, Dwainie mine, The while thou lingerest there. [Drops trentoraine, and, with open arms, ga^es yearningly on Dwainie.] dwainie. O Thy words do wing my being dovewise ! AMPHINE. Then, Thou lovest !— O my homing dove, veer down And nestle in the warm home of my breast! So empty are mine arms, so full my heart, The one must hold thee, or the other burst. DWAINIE. [Throwing herself in his embrace.] >Eo's own hand methinks hath flung me here : O hold me that He may not pluck me back. 4o THE FLYING ISLANDS AMPHINE. So closely will I hold thee that not e'en The hand of death shall separate us. DWAINIE. So May sweet death find us, then, that, woven thus In the corolla of a ripe caress, We may drop lightly, like twin plustre-buds, On Heaven's star-strewn lawn. AMPHINE. So do I pray. But tell me, tender heart, an thou dost love, Where hast thou loitered for so long ?— for thou Didst promise tryst here with me earlier by Some several layodemes, which I have told Full chafingly against my finger-tips Till the full complement, save three, are ranged Thy pitiless accusers, claiming, each, So many as their joined number be Shalt thou so many times lift up thy lips For mine's most lingering forgiveness. So, save thee, O my Sweet ! and rest thee, I Have ordered merl and viands to be brought OF THE NIGHT. 41 For our refreshment here, where, thus alone, I may sip words with thee as well as wine. Why hast thou kept me so athirst?— Why, I Am jealous of the flattered solitudes In which thou walkest. {They sit at table.] DWAINIE. Nay, I will not tell, Since, an I yielded, countless questions, like In idlest worth, would waste our interview In speculations vain. — Let this suffice: — I stayed to talk with one whom, long ago, I met and knew, and grew to love, forsooth, In dreamy Wunkland.— Talked of mellow nights, And long, long hours of golden olden times, When girlish happiness locked hands with me And we went spinning round, with naked feet In swaths of bruised roses ankle-deep ; When laughter rang unsilenced, unrebuked, And prayers went unremembered, oozing clean From the drowsed memory, as from the eyes The pure, sweet mother-face that bent above Glimmered and wavered, blurred, bent closer still A timeless instant, like a shadowy flame, 4 42 THE FLYING ISLANDS Then flickered tremulously o'er the brow, And went out in a kiss. AMPHINE. [Kissing her.'] Not like to this! O blessed lips whose kiss alone may be Sweeter than their sweet speech ! Speak on, and say Of what else talked thee and thy friend ? DWAINIE. We talked Of all the past, ah me ! and all the friends That now await my coming. And we talked Of O so many things — so many things — That I but blend them all with dreams of when, With thy warm hand clasped close in this of mine, We cross the floating bridge that soon again Will span the all-unfathomable gulfs Of nether air betwixt this isle of strife And my most glorious realm of changeless peace, Where summer night reigns ever and the moon Hangs ever ripe and lush with radiance Above a land where roses float on wings And fan their fragrance out so lavishly That Heaven hath hint of it, and oft therefrom OF THE NIGHT. 43 Sends down to us across the odorous seas Strange argosies of interchanging bud And blossom, spice and balm. — Sweet— sweet Beyond all art and wit of uttering. AMPHINE. O Empress of my listening Soul, speak on, And tell me all of that rare land of thine ! — For even though I reigned a peerless king Within mine own, methinks I could fling down My scepter, signet, crown and royal might, And so fare down the thorn ed path of life If at its dwindling end my feet might touch Upon the shores of such a land as thou Dost paint for me — thy realm ! Tell on of it — And tell me if thy sister-woman there Is like to thee— Yet nay ! for if thou didst, These eyes would lose all speech of sight And call not back to thine their utter love. But tell me of thy brothers. — Are they great, And can they grapple i£o's arguments Beyond our skill? or wrest a purpose from The pink side of the moon at Darsten-tide? Or cipher out the problem of blind stars, 44 THE FLYING ISLANDS That ever still do safely grope their way Among the thronging constellations? DWAINIE. Aye! Aye, they have leaped all earthland barriers In mine own isle of wisdom-working Wunks:— 'Twas Wunkland's son that voyaged round the moon And moored his barque within the molten bays Of bubbling silver : And 'twas Wunkland's son That talked with Mars— unbuckled Saturn's belt And tightened it in squeezure of such facts Therefrom as even he dare not disclose In full till all his followers, as himself, Have grown them wings, and gat them beaks and claws, With plumage all bescienced to withstand All tensest flames— glaze-throated, too, and lung'd To swallow fiercest-spirted jets, and cores Of embered and unquenchable white heat : Twas Wunkland's son that alchemized the dews, And bred all colored grasses that he wist— Divorced the airs and mists and caught the trick Of azure-tinting earth as well as sky : 'Twas Wunkland's son that bent the rainbow straight And walked it like a street, and so returned OF THE NIGHT. 45 To tell us it was made of hammered shine, Inlaid with strips of selvedge from the sun, And burnished with the rust of rotten stars : 'Twas Wunkland's son that comprehended first All grosser things, and took our worlds apart And oiled their works with theories that clicked In glib articulation with the pulse And palpitation of the systemed facts. — And, circling ever round the farthest reach Of the remotest welkin of all truths, We stint not our investigations to Our worlds only, but query still beyond.— For now our goolores say, below these isles A million million miles, are other worlds— Not like to ours, but round, as bubbles are, And, like them, ever reeling on through space, And anchorless through all eternity ; — Not like to ours, for our isles, as they note, Are living things that fly about at night, And soar above and cling, throughout the day, Like bats, beneath the bent sills of the skies : And I myself have heard, at dawn of moon, A liquid music filtered through my dreams, As though 'twere myriads of sweet voices, pent 46 THE FLYING ISLANDS In some o'erhanging realm, had spilled themselves In streams of melody that trickled through The chinks and crannies of a crystal pave, Until the wasted juice of harmony, Slow-leaking o'er my senses, laved my soul In ecstasy divine: And afferhaiks, Who scour our coasts on missions for the King, Declare our island's shape is like the zhibb's When lolling in a trance upon the air, With open wings upslant and motionless. O such a land it is— so all complete In all wise habitants, and knowledge, lore, Arts, sciences, perfected government — In kingly wisdom, worth and majesty — So furnished forth in all things lovable, O Amphine, love of mine, it lacks but thy Sweet presence to make it a paradise? {Takes up trentoraine.'] And shall I tell thee of the home that waits For thy glad coming, Amphine? — Listen, then ! OF THE NIGHT. 47 Chant-Recitative. A palace veiled in a glimmering dusk ; Warm breaths of a tropic air, Drugged with the odorous marzhoo's musk And the sumptuous cyncotwaire — Where the trembling hands of the lilwing's leaves The winds caress and fawn, While the dreamy starlight idly weaves Designs for the damask lawn. Densed in the depths of a dim eclipse Of palms, in a flowery space, A fountain leaps from the marble lips Of a girl, with a golden vase Held atip on a curving wrist, Drinking the drops that glance Laughingly in the glittering mist Of her crystal utterance. Archways looped o'er blooming walks That lead through gleaming halls ; And balconies where the word-bird talks To the tittering waterfalls : THE FLYING ISLANDS And casements, gauzed with the filmy sheen Of a lace that sifts the sight Through a ghost of bloom on the haunted screen That drips with the dews of light. Weird, pale shapes of sculptured stone,— With marble nymphs agaze Ever in fonts of amber, sown With seeds of gold, and sprays Of emerald mosses, ever drowned, Where glimpses of shell and gem Peer from the depths, as round and round The nautilus nods at them. Faces blurred in a mazy dance, With a music wild and sweet, Spinning the threads of the mad romance That tangles the waltzers' feet : Twining arms, and warm, swift thrills That pulse to the melody, Till the soul of the dancer dips and fills In the wells of ecstasy. OF THE NIGHT. 49 Eyes that melt in a quivering ore Of love, and the molten kiss Jetted forth of the hearts that pour Their blood in the molds of bliss. — Till, worn to a languor slumber-deep, The soul of the dreamer lifts A silken sail on the gulfs of sleep, And into the darkness drifts. [The instrument falls from her hands — AMPHINE, in stress of passionate delight, embraces her.~] AMPHINE. Thou art not all of earth, O angel one ! Nor do I far miswonder me an thou Hast peered above the very walls of Heaven ! What hast thou seen there ? — Didst on yEo bask Thine eyes and clothe Him with new splendorings? And strove He to fling back as bright a smile As thine, the while He beckoned thee within ? And, tell me, didst thou meet an angel there Alinger at the gates, nor entering Till I, her brother, joiner her? 50 THE FLYING ISLANDS DWAINIE. Why, hast thou A sister dead ? — Truth, I have heard of one Long lost to thee — not dead ? AMPHINE. Of her I speak, — And dead, although we know not certainly, We moan us ever it must needs be death Only could hold her from us such long term Of changeless yearning for her glad return. She strayed away from us long, long ago. — O and our memories !— Her wondering eyes That seemed as though they ever looked on things We might not see — as haply so they did, — For she went from us, all so suddenly — So strangely vanished, leaving never trace Of her outgoing, that I oftimes think Her rapt eyes fell along some certain path Of special glory paven for her feet, And fashioned of >Eo's supreme desire That she might bend her steps therein and so Reach Him again, unseen of our mere eyes. My sweet, sweet sister !— lost to brother—sire— OF THE NIGHT. 51 And, to her heart, one dearer than all else,— Her lover— lost indeed ! DWAINIE. Nay, do not grieve Thee thus, O loving heart ! Thy sister yet May come to thee in some glad way the Fates Are fashioning the while thy teardrops fall ! So calm thee, while I speak of thine own self.— For I have listened to a whistling bird That pipes of waiting danger. Didst thou note No strange behavior of thy sire of late? AMPHINE. Aye, he is silent, and he walks as one In some fixed melancholy, or as one Half waking. DWAINIE. Aye ! and doth he counsel not With thee in any wise pertaining to His ailings, or of matters looking toward His future purposes, or his intents Regarding thine own future fortunings And his desires and interests therein? 52 THE FLYING ISLANDS What bearing hath he shown of late toward thee By which thou mightst beframe some estimate Of his mind's placid flow or turbulent? And hath he not so spoken thee at times Thou hast been 'wildered of his words, or grieved Of his strange manner? AMPHINE. Once he stayed me on The palace-stairs and whispered, " Lo, my son, Thy young reign draweth nigh— prepare ! "—So passed And vanished as a wraith, so wan he was ! DWAINIE. And didst thou never reason on this thing, Nor ask thyself what dims thy father's eye And makes a brooding shadow of his form? AMPHINE. Why, there's a household rumor that he dreams Death fareth ever at his side, and soon Shall signal away.— But Jucklet saith Crestillomeem hath said the leeches say There is no cause for serious concern ; And thus am I assured 'tis nothing more OF THE NIGHT. 53 Than childish fancy of mine aging sire, — And so, as now, I laugh, full reverently, And marvel, as I mark his shuffling gait, And his bestrangered air and murmurous lips, As by he glideth to and fro, ha ! ha ! Ho ! ho !— I laugh me many, many times- Mind, thou, 'tis reverently I laugh— ha ! ha !— And wonder, as he glideth ghostly-wise, If ever / shall waver as I walk, And stumble o'er my beard, and knit my brows, And o'er the dull mosaics of the pave Play chequers with mine eyes ! Ho ! ho ! Ah ! ha ! DWAINIE. [Aside.] How dare I tell him? Yet I must— I must ! AMPHINE. Why, art thou, too, grown childish, that thou canst Find thee waste pleasure talking to thyself, And staring frowningly with eyes whose smiles I need so much ? DWAINIE. Nay, rather say, their tears, Poor thoughtless Prince ! [Aside.] (My magic even now Forecasts his kingly sire's near happening 54 THE FLYING ISLANDS Of nameless hurt and ache and awful stress Of agony supreme, when he shall stare The stark truth in the face ! ) AMPHINE. What— what mean you ? DWAINIE. What mean I but thy welfare ? Why, I mean, One hour agone, the Queen, thy mother — AMPHINE. Nay, Say only "Queen"! DWAINIE. — The Queen, one hour agone— As so I learned from source I need not say — Sent message craving audience with the King At noon to-night, within the Tower of Stars. — Thou knowest, only brief space following The time of her pent session thereso set In secret with the King alone, the Throne Is set, too, to convene ; and that the King Hath lent his seal unto a mandate that, Should he withhold his presence there, the Queen Shall be empowered to preside — to reign — OF THE NIGHT. 55 Solely endowed to work the royal will In lieu of the good King. Now, therefore, I Have been advised that she, the Queen, by craft Connives to hold him absent purposely, That she may claim the vacancy— for what Covert design I know not, but I know It augurs danger to you both, as to The Throne s own perpetuity. [Aside.] (Again My magic gives me vision terrible : — The Sorceress' legions balk mine own.— The King Still hers, yet wavering. O save the King, Thou JEo !— Render him to us ! ) AMPHINE. I feel Thou speakest truth : and yet how know you this ? DWAINIE. Ask me not that ; my lips are welded dose.— And, more,— since I have dared to speak, and thou To listen, — Jucklet is accessory, And even now is plotting for thy fall. But, Passion of my Soul ! think not of me,— For nothing but sheer magic may avail To work me harm ; —but look thee to thyself ! 56 THE FLYING ISLANDS For thou art blameless cause of all the hate That rankleth in the bosom of the Queen. So have thine eyes unslumbered ever, that No step may steal behind thee— for in this Unlooked-of way thine enemy will come : This much 1 know, but for what fell intent Dare not surmise. — So look thee, night and day That none may skulk upon thee in this wise Of dastardly attack. [Aside.] (Ha! Sorceress! Thou palest, tossing wild and wantonly The smothering golden tempest of thy hair.— What ! lying eyes ! ye dare to utter tears ? Help ! help ! Yield us the King /) AMPHINE. And thou, O sweet ! How art thou guarded and what shield is thine of safety ? DWAIN1E. Fear not thou for me at all. — Possessed am I of wondrous sorcery — The gift of Holy Magi at my birth : — Mine enemy must front me in assault And must with mummery of speech assail, OF THE NIGHT. 57 And I will know him in first utterance— And so may thus disarm him, though he be A giant thrice in vasty form and force. [Singing heard.'] But, list ! what wandering minstrel cometh here In the young night? VOICE. — [ In distance — singing. ] The drowsy eyes of the stars grow dim ; The wamboo roosts on the rainbow's rim, And the moon is a ghost of shine : ■ The soothing song of the crule is done, But the song of love is a soother one, And the song of love is mine. Then, wake 1 O wake ! For the sweet song's sake, Nor let my heart With the morning break ! AMPHINE. Some serenader. Hist! What meaneth he so early, and what thus Within the palace garden-close? Quick; here! He neareth ! Soh ! Let us conceal ourselves And mark his action, wholly unobserved. [AMPHINE and DWAINIE enter bower.] 58 THE FLYING ISLANDS VOICE. {Drawing nearer.~\ The mist of the morning, chill and gray, Wraps the night in a shroud of spray ; The sun is a crimson blot : The moon fades fast, and the stars take wing; The comet's tail is a fleeting thing — But the tale of love is not. Then, wake ! O wake ! For the sweet song's sake, Nor let my heart With the morning break ! {Enter JUCKLET.] JUCKLET. Ho ! ho ! what will my dainty mistress say When I shall stand knee-deep in the wet grass Beneath her lattice, and with upturned eyes And tongue out-lolling like the clapper of A bell, outpour her that ? I wonder now If she will not put up her finger thus, And say, " Hist ! heart of mine ! the angels call To thee ! " Ho ! ho ! Or will her blushing face Light up her dim boudoir and, from her glass, Flare back to her a flame upsprouting from The hot-cored socket of a soul whose light OF THE NIGHT. 59 She thought long since had guttered out?— Ho ! ho ! Or, haply, will she chastely bend above — A parian phantom, with its head atip And twinkling fingers dusting down the dews That glitter on the tarapyzma vines That riot round her casement— gathering Lush blooms to pelt me with, while I below All winkingly await the fragrant shower? Ho ! ho ! how jolly is this thing of love ! But how much richer, rarer, jollier Than all the loves is this rare love of mine ! Why, my sweet Princess doth not even dream I am her lover,— for, to here confess, I have a way of wooing all mine own And waste scant speech in creamy compliment And courtesies all gaumed with winy words. — In sooth, I do not woo at all— I win i How is it now the old duet doth glide Itself full ripplingly adown the grooves Of its quaint melody ? — And whoso, by- The-bjye, or, by-the-way, or, for the nonce. Or, eke ye, peradventure, ever durst Render a duet singly but myself? {Singing — With grotesque mimicry of two voices."] 60 THE FLYING ISLANDS JUCKLET'S DUET. How is it you woo? — and now answer me true,— How is it you woo and you win ? Why, to answer you true, — the first thing you do Is to simply, my dearest — begin. But how can I begin to woo or to win When I don't know a win from a woo? Why, cover your chin with your fan or your fin. And Til introduce them to you. But what if it drew from my parents a view With my own in no manner akin ? No matter !— your view shall be first of the two, — So I hasten to usher them in. Nay, stay ! Shall I grin at the woo or the win ? And what will he do if I do ? Why, the woo will begin with " How pleasant it's been! " And the win with "Delighted with you I " Then supposing he grew very dear to my view— I'm speaking, you know, of the win? Why, then, you should do what he wanted you to, — And now is the time to be sin. OF THE NIGHT. 61 The time to begin? O then usher him in — Let him say what he wants me to do. He is here. — He 's a twin of yourself —I am "Win" And you are, my darling, my " Woo ! " [Capering and courtesy ing to feigned audience. ,] That song I call most sensible nonsense ; And if the fair and peerless Dwainie were But here, with that sweet voice of hers, to take The part of " Woo," I 'd be the happiest " Win " On this side of futurity ! Ho ! ho ! DWAINIE. [Aside to AMPHINE.] What means he ? AMPHINE. Why, he means that throatless head Of his needs further chucking down betwixt His cloven shoulders ! [Starts forward — Dwainie detaining him.~\ DWAINIE. Nay, thou shalt not stir ! See ! now the monster hath discovered our Repast. Hold ! Let us mark him further. 62 THE FLYING ISLANDS JUCKLET. [Archly eyeing viands.'] What! A roasted wheffle and a toc-spiced whum, Tricked with a larvey and a gherghgling's tail !— And, sprit me ! wine enough to swim them in ! Now I should like to put a question to The guests ; but as there are none, I direct Mine interrogatory to the host. [Bowing to vacancy.'] Am I behind-time?— Then I can but trust My tardy coming may be overlooked In my most active effort to regain A gracious tolerance by service now : — Directing rapt attention to the fact That I have brought mine appetite along, I can but feel, ho ! ho ! that further words Would be a waste of speech. [Sits at table— pours out wine, drinks and eats voraciously.] —There was a time When I was rather backward in my ways In courtly company (as though, forsooth, I felt not, from my very birth, the swish Of royal blood along my veins, though bred Amongst the treacled scullions and the thralls I shot from, like a cork, in youthful years, OF THE NIGHT. 63 Into court-favor by my wit's sheer stress Of fomentation. — Pah ! the stench 0' toil!) Aye, somehow, as I think, I 've all outgrown That coarse, nice age, wherein one makes a meal Of two estardles and a fork of soup. Hey ! sanaloo ! Lest my starved stomach stand Awe-stricken and aghast, with mouth agape Before the rich profusion of this feast, I lubricate it with a glass of merl And coax it on to more familiar terms Of fellowship with those delectables. [Pours wine and holds up goblet with mock courtliness.] Mine host ! — Thou of the viewless presence and Hush-haunted lip :— Thy most imperial, Etherial, and immaterial health ! Live till the sun dries up, and comb thy cares With star-prongs till the comets fizzle out And fade away and fail and are no more ! [Drinks and refills goblet.] And, if thou wilt permit me to observe, — The gleaming shaft of spirit in this wine Goes whistling to its mark, and full and fair Zipps to the target-center of my soul ! Why, now am I the veriest gentleman 64 THE FLYING ISLANDS That ever buttered woman with a smile, And let her melt and run and drip and ooze All over and around a wanton heart ! And if my mistress bent above me now, In all my hideous deformity, I think she would look over, as it were, The hump upon my back ; and so forget The kinks and knuckles of my crooked legs, In this enchanting smile, she needs must leap, Love-dazzled, and fall faint and fluttering Within these yawning, all-devouring arms Of mine ! Ho ! ho ! And yet Crestillomeem Would have me blight my dainty Dwainie with This feather from the Devil's wing !— But I Am far too full of craft to spoil the eyes That yet shall pour their love like nectar out Into mine own, — and I am far too deep For royal wit to wade my purposes. Dwainie. [7Eo's own great providence, and through The intervention of an angel whom 84 THE FLYING ISLANDS I long had deemed forever lost to me, Once more thy favored Sovereign, do I greet And tender ye my blessing, O most good And faith-abiding subjects of my realm ! In common, too, with thy long-suffering King, Have^ye long suffered, blamelessly as he ; Now therefore, know ye all what, until late, I knew not of myself, and with me share The rapturous assurance that is mine, That, for all time to come, are we restored To tru old glory and most regal pride And opulence and splendor of our realm. [Turning with pained features to the strangely-stricken Queen.] There have been, as ye needs must know, strange spells And wicked sorceries at work within The very dais-boundaries of the Throne. Lo! then, behold thy harrier and mine, And with me grieve for the self-ruined Queen Who grovels at my feet, blind, speechless, and So stricken with a curse herself designed Should light upon Hope's fairest minister. [Motions attendants , who lead away CRESTILLOMEEM — The King gating after her, overmastered with stress of his emotions. — He leans heavily on throne, as though ob- OF THE NIGHT. 85 livious to all surroundings, and shaping into speech his varying thought, as in a trance, speaks as though witless of both utterance and auditor.'] I loved her.— Why? I never knew.— Perhaps Because her face was fair.— Perhaps because Her eyes were blue and wore a weary air. Perhaps ! Perhaps because her limpid face Was eddied with a restless tide, wherein The dimples found no place to anchor and Abide. Perhaps because her tresses beat A froth of gold about her throat, and poured In splendor to the feet that ever seemed Afloat. Perhaps because of that wild way Her sudden laughter overleapt propriety ; Or — who will say, — perhaps the way she wept. Ho !— have ye seen the swollen heart of summer Tempest, o'er the plain, with throbs of thunder Burst apart and drench the earth with rain ? She Wept like that— And to recall, with one wild glance Of memory, our last love-parting— tears And all— It thrills and' maddens me ! And yet My dreams will hold her, flushed from lifted brow To finger-tips, with passion's ripest kisses Crushed and mangled on her lips . . . O woman ! while 86 THE FLYING ISLANDS Your face was fair, and heart was pure, and lips Were true, and hope as golden as your hair, I should have strangled you ! [As KRUNG, ceasing to speak, piteously lifts his face, SPRAI- VOLL all suddenly appears, in space left vacant by the Queen, and kneeling and kissing the King's hand.— He bends in tenderness, kissing her brow — then lifts and seats her at his side. Speaks then to throng.'] Good Subjects— Lords : Behold in this sweet woman here my child, Whom, years agone, the cold, despicable Crestillomeem— by baleful, wicked arts And gruesome spells and fearsome witcheries, Did spirit off to some strange otherland, Where, happily, a Wunkland Princess found Her, and undid the spell by sorcery More potent— aye, Divine, since it works naught But good— the gift of JEo, to right wrong. This magic dower the Wunkland Princess hath Enlisted in our restoration here, In secret service, till this joyful hour Of our complete deliverance. Even thus.— Lo, let the peerless Princess now appear! OF THE NIGHT. 87 [He lifts scepter, and a gust of melody, divinely beautiful, sweeps through the court. — The star above the throne loosens and drops slowly downward, bursting like a bubble on the scepter-tip, and, issuing therefrom, AMPHINE and DWAINIE, hand-in-hand, kneel at the feet of KRUNG, who bends above them with his blessing, while JUCKLET capers wildly round the group.] JUCKLET. Ho ! ho ! but I could shriek for very joy ! And though my recent rival, fair Amphine, Doth even now bend o'er a blossom, I, Besprit me ! have no lingering desire To meddle with it, though with but one eye I slept the while she backward walked around Me in the garden. [AMPHINE dubiously smtles—MiCKLEl blinks and leers— and DWAINIE bites her finger.] KRUNG. Peace ! good Jucklet ! Peace ! For this is not a time for any jest.— Though the old order of our realm hath been Restored, and though restored my very life — Though I have found a daughter,— I have lost THE FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT. A son— for Dwainie, with her sorcery, Will, on the morrow, carry him away. 'Tis >Eo's largess, as our love is His, And our abiding trust and gratefulness. THE END. 1 v du\y