V
_How should I your true love know From another one?_
--WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
But even then she was difficult finding, so cunningly had ivy andblackberry and bindweed woven snares for the trespasser's foot.
But at last--not far from where we had parted--I found her, a pillarof smoke in the first shining of the moon. She turned large,smouldering eyes on me, her mane in elf locks, her flanks heaving andwet, her forelock frizzed like a colt's. Yet she showed only pleasureat seeing me, and so evident a desire to unburden the day's history,that I almost wished I might be Balaam awhile, and she--Dapple!
It would be idle to attempt to ride through these thick, glimmeringbrakes. The darkness was astir. And as the moon above the valleybrightened, casting pale beams upon the folded roses and droopingbranches, if populous dream did not deceive me, a tiny multitude wasafoot in the undergrowth--small horns winding, wee tapers burning.
Presently as with Rosinante's nose at my shoulder we pushed slowlyforward, a nightingale burst close against my ear into so passionate adescant I thought I should be gooseflesh to the end of my days.
The heedless tumult of her song seemed to give courage to sounds andvoices much fainter. Soon a lovelit rival in some distant thicketbroke into song, and far and near their voices echoed above the elfindin of timbrel and fife and hunting-horn. I began to wish the moonaway that dazzled my eyes, yet could not muffle my ears.
In the heavy-laden boughs dim lanterns burned. There, indeed, when wedipped into the deeper umbrage of some loftier tree, I espied thepattering hosts--creatures my Dianeme might have threaded for abangle, yet breeched and armed and fiercely martial.
Down, too, in a watery dell of harts-tongue, around the root of aswelling fungus, a lovely company floated of an insubstantialitysubtile as taper-smoke, and of a beauty as remote as the babes inchildren's eyes.
We passed unheeded. Four bearded hoofs rose and fell upon the mosswith all the circumspection snorting Rosinante could compass. But onemight as well go snaring moonbeams as dream to crush such airy beings.Ever and again a gossamer company would soar like a spider on hismagic thread, and float with a whisper of remotest music past my ear;or some bolder pigmy, out of the leaves we brushed in passing, skipsuddenly across the rusty amphitheatre of my saddle into the furthercovert.
So we wandered on, baffled and confused, through a hundred pathlessglens and dells till already gold had begun to dim the swelling moon'sbright silver, and by the freshness and added sweetness of the air itseemed dawn must be near, when, on a sudden, a harsh, preposterousvoice broke on my ear, and such a see-saw peal of laughter as I havenever tittered in sheer fellowship with before, or since. We stoodlistening, and the voice broke out again.
"Tittany--nay, Tittany, you'll crack my sides with laughing. Haveagain at you! love your master and you'll wax nimble. Bottom willlearn you all. Trust Time and Bottom; though in sooth your weenyMajesty is something less than natural. Drive thy straw deeper,Mounsieur Mustardseed! there squats a pestilent sweet notion in thatchamber could spellican but set him capering. Prithee your mousemilkhand on this smooth brow, mistress! Your nectar throbbeth like ablacksmith's anvil. Master Moth, draw you these bristling lashes down,they mirk the stars and call yon nothing Quince to mind--a vain,official knave, in and out, to and fro, play or pleasure; and old SamSnout, the wanton! Lad's days and all--'twas life, Tittany; and I wasever foremost. They'd bob and crook to me like spaniels at a trencher.Mine was the prettiest conceit, this way, that way, past allunravelling till envy stretched mine ears. Now I'm old dreams. Goneall men's joy, your worships, since Bully Bottom took to moonshine.Where floats your babe's-hand now, Dame Lovepip?"
There he lolled, immortal Bottom, propped on a bed of asphodel andmoly that seemed to curd the moonshine; and at his side, Titania slimand scarlet, and shimmering like a bride-cake. The sky was dark abovethe tapering trees, but here in the secret woods light seemed to clingin flake and scarf. And it so chanced as our two noses leaned forwardinto his retreat that Bottom's head lolled back upon its pillow, andhis bright, simple eyes stared deep into our own.
"Save me, ye shapes of nought," he bellowed, "no more, no more, forlove's sake. I begin to see what men call red Beelzebub, and that's anend to all true fellowship. Whiffle your tufted bee's wing, SigniorCobweb, I beseech you--a little fiery devil with four eyes floats inmy brain, and flame's a frisky bedfellow. Avaunt! avaunt ye! Would nowmy true friend Bottom the weaver were at my side. His was a courageto make princes great. Prithee, Queen Tittany, no more such cozeningpossets!"
I drew Rosinante back into the leaves.
"Droop now thy honeyed lids, my dearest love!" I heard a clear voiceanswer. "There's nought can harm thee in these silvered woods: no birdthat pipes but love incites his throat, and never a dewdrop wells butwhispers peace!"
"Ay, ay, 'tis very well, you have a gift, you have a gift, Tittany'sfor twisting words to sugarsticks. But la, there, what wots yourtrickling whey of that coal-piffling Prince of Flies! I'm Bottom theweaver, I am. He knows not his mother's ring-finger that knows notNick Bottom. Back, back, ye jigging dreams! 'Tis Puckling nods. Ha'done, ha' done--there's no sweet sanity in an asshead more if I quafftheir elvish ... Out now ... Ha' done, I say!"
Then indeed he slumbered truly, this engarlanded weaver, his lidsconcealing all bright speculation, his jowl of vanity (foe of thePhilistine) at peace: and I might gaze unperceived. The moon filledhis mossy cubicle with her untrembling beams, streamed upon blossomssweet and heavy as Absalom's hair, while tiny plumes wafted into thenight the scent of thyme and meadow-sweet.
I know not how long they would have kept me prisoner with theirillusive music. I dared not move, scarce wink; for much as immortalitymay mollify hairiness, I had no wish to live too frank.
How, also, would this weaver who slumbered so cacophonously welcome arival to his realms. I say I sat still, like Echo in the woods whennone is calling; like too, I grant, one who ached not a little afterjolts and jars and the phantasmal mists of this engendering air. Butnone stirred, nor went, nor came. So resting my hands cautiously on alittle witch's guild of toadstools that squatted cold in shade, Ilifted myself softly and stood alert.
And in a while out of that numerous company stepped one whom by hisprimrose face and mien I took to be Mounsieur Mustardseed, and Ifollowed after him.