The Story
of Saville
For pity, if pity she felt, was veiled under a sprightly essay
To twist a shimmering strand of gold into the hodden gray.
“Alas, poor knight! thou art lorn and lost, and cast forever away
In this enchanted and fearsome land, where witches and ogres hold sway,—
Thou hast suffered the ban of my sister Fate; but I am a tenderer fay,
And so that thou servest me early and late, owning no queen beside,
Never presuming to question my will, loyal whatever betide,
I dare avouch thou again shalt feel that warmly the sun doth shine,
Thou shalt once more breathe Heliconian air, and drink of Falernian wine,
And haply at last the scales shall fall from those dark sad eyes of thine!”
Then pressing the lilies close into his hand, while Kyrle stood blockish and still,
She murmured “Farewell, farewell, poor knight! Remember the Fairy Saville!”
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