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
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
Complete Fairy Tales Page 7