Chapter XV: Act I

SCENE I. _Witch bends over fire in middle of orchard, brewing a charm in her caldron. Ogre stalks in, grinning frightfully, swinging his bludgeon in triumph._

_Ogre._ Ha, old witch, it is done at last! I have broken the King's stronghold! I have stolen away his children twain From the clutch of their guardsmen bold. I have dragged them here to my castle tower. Prince Hero is strong and fair. But he and his sister shall rue my power, When once up yon winding stair.

_Witch._ Now why didst thou plot such a wicked thing?
The children no harm have done.

_Ogre._ But I have a grudge 'gainst their father, the King, A grudge that is old as the sun. And hark ye, old hag, I must have thy aid Before the new moon be risen. Now brew me a charm in thy caldron black, That shall keep them fast in their prison!

_Witch._ I'll brew thee no charm, thou Ogre dread! Knowest thou not full well The Princess thou hast stolen away Is guarded by Fairy spell? Her godmother over her cradle bent "O Princess Winsome," she said, "I give thee this gift: thou shalt deftly spin, As thou wishest, Love's golden thread." So I dare not brew thee a spell 'gainst her My caldron would grow acold And never again would bubble up, If touched by her thread of gold.

_Ogre._ Then give me a charm to bind the prince. Thou canst do that much at least. I'll give thee more gold than hands can hold, If thou'lt change him into some beast.

_Witch._ I have need of gold--so on the fire
I'll pile my fagots higher and higher,
And in the bubbling water stir
This hank of hair, this patch of fur,
This feather and this flapping fin,
This claw, this bone, this dried snake skin!
Bubble and boil
And snake skin coil,
This charm shall all plans
But the Ogre's foil.

[_As Witch stirs and sings, the Ogre, stalking to the side, calls._

_Ogre._ Ho, Frog-eye Fearsome, let the sport begin!
Hence to the tower! Drag the captives in!

[_Frog-eye Fearsome drags Prince Hero and Princess Winsome
across the stage, and into the door leading up the tower
stair. They are bound by ropes. Prince tries to reach his
sword. Princess shrieks._

_Princess._ Oh, save us, good, wise witch, In pity, save us, pray. The King, our royal father, Thy goodness will repay. [_Pulls back, wringing hand._ Oh, I cannot, _cannot_ mount the tower! Oh, save us from the bloody Ogre's power!

[_They are dragged into the tower, door bangs and Ogre locks it with
key a yard long. Goes back to Witch, who hands him vial
filled from caldron with black mixture._

_Witch._ Pour drop by drop upon Prince Hero's tongue. First he will bark. His hands and feet Will turn to paws, and he will seem a dog. Seven drops will make the change complete. The poison has no antidote save one, And he a prince again can never be, Unless seven silver plums he eats, Plucked from my golden apple-tree.

_Ogre._ Revenge is sweet, And soon 'twill be complete! Then to my den I'll haste for gold to delve. I'll bring it at the black, bleak hour of twelve!

_Witch._ And I upon my broomstick now must fly To woodland tryst. Come, Horned Owl And Venomed Toad! Now play the spy! Let no one through my orchard prowl.

[_Exit Witch and Ogre to dirge music._

SCENE II. _Enter King and Queen weeping. They pace up and down, wringing hands, and showing great signs of grief. Godmother enters from opposite side. King speaks._

_King._ Good dame, Godmother of our daughter dear, Perhaps thou'st heard our tale of woe. Our children twain are stolen away By Ogre Grim, mine ancient foe.

All up and down the land we've sought For help to break into his tower. And now, our searching all for nought, We've come to beg the Witch's power.

[_Godmother springs forward, finger to lip, and anxiously waves
them away from orchard._

_Godmother._ Nay! Nay! Your Majesty, go not Within that orchard, now I pray! The Witch and Ogre are in league. They've wrought you fearful harm this day. She brewed a draught to change the prince Into a dog! Oh, woe is me! I passed the tower and heard him bark: Alack! That I must tell it thee!

[_Queen shrieks and falls back in the King's arms, then recovering
falls to wailing._

_Queen._ My noble son a _dog?_ A _beast?_ It cannot, must not, _shall_ not be! I'll brave the Ogre in his den, And plead upon my bended knee!

_Godmother._ Thou couldst not touch his heart of stone. He'd keep _thee_ captive in his lair. The Princess Winsome can alone Remove the cause of thy despair. And I unto the tower will climb, And ere is gone the sunset's red, Shall bid her spin a counter charm-- A skein of Love's own Golden Thread. Take heart, O mother Queen! Be brave! Take heart, O gracious King, I pray! Well can she spin Love's Golden Thread, And Love can _always_ find a way! [_Exit Godmother._

_Queen._ She's gone, good dame. But what if she Has made mistake, and thread of gold Is not enough to draw our son From out the Ogre's cruel hold? Canst think of nought, your Majesty? Of nothing else? Must we stand here And powerless lift no hand to speed The rescue of our children dear?

[_King clasps hand to his head in thought, then starts forward._

_King._ I have it now! This hour I'll send Swift heralds through my wide domains, To say the knight who rescues them Shall wed the Princess for his pains.

_Queen._ Quick! Let us fly! I hear the sound of feet, As if some horseman were approaching nigher. 'Twould not be seemly should he meet Our royal selves so near the Witch's fire.

[_They start to run, but are met by Knight on horseback in centre of
stage. He dismounts and drops to one knee._

_King._ 'Tis Feal the Faithful! Rise, Sir Knight,
And tell us what thou doest here!

_Knight._ O Sire, I know your children's plight
I go to ease your royal fear.

_Queen._ Now if thou bringst them back to us,
A thousand blessings on thy head.

_King._ Ay, half my kingdom shall be thine.
The Princess Winsome thou shalt wed.

_Queen._ But tell us, how dost thou think to cope With the Ogre so dread and grim? What is the charm that bids thee hope Thou canst rout and vanquish him?

_Knight._ My faithful heart is my only charm, But my good broadsword is keen, And love for the princess nerves my arm With the strength of ten, I ween. Come weal, come woe, no knight can fail Who goes at Love's behest. Long ere one moon shall wax and wane, I shall be back from my quest. I have only to find the South Wind's flute. In the Land of Summer it lies. It can awaken the echoes mute, With answering replies. And it can summon the fairy folk Who never have said me nay. They'll come to my aid at the flute's clear call. Love _always_ can find a way.

_King._ Go, Feal the Faithful. It is well! Successful mayst thou be, And all the way that thou dost ride, Our blessings follow thee. [_Curtain._