WHAT THE MOON SAW [16]
was calm," said the Moon; "the water was transparent as
the purest ether through which I was gliding, and deep below the
surface I could see the strange plants that stretched up their long
arms towards me like the gigantic trees of the forest. The fishes swam
to and fro above their tops. High in the air a flight of wild swans
were winging their way, one of which sank lower and lower, with
wearied pinions, his eyes following the airy caravan, that melted
farther and farther into the distance. With outspread wings he sank
slowly, as a soap bubble sinks in the still air, till he touched the
water. At length his head lay back between his wings, and silently
he lay there, like a white lotus flower upon the quiet lake. And a
gentle wind arose, and crisped the quiet surface, which gleamed like
the clouds that poured along in great broad waves; and the swan raised
his head, and the glowing water splashed like blue fire over his
breast and back. The morning dawn illuminated the red clouds, the swan
rose strengthened, and flew towards the rising sun, towards the bluish
coast whither the caravan had gone; but he flew alone, with a
longing in his breast. Lonely he flew over the blue swelling billows."
TWENTY-EIGHTH EVENING
"I will give you another picture of Sweden," said the Moon. "Among
dark pine woods, near the melancholy banks of the Stoxen, lies the old
convent church of Wreta. My rays glided through the grating into the
roomy vaults, where kings sleep tranquilly in great stone coffins.
On the wall, above the grave of each, is placed the emblem of
earthly grandeur, a kingly crown; but it is made only of wood, painted
and gilt, and is hung on a wooden peg driven into the wall. The
worms have gnawed the gilded wood, the spider has spun her web from
the crown down to the sand, like a mourning banner, frail and
transient as the grief of mortals. How quietly they sleep! I can
remember them quite plainly. I still see the bold smile on their lips,
that so strongly and plainly expressed joy or grief. When the
steamboat winds along like a magic snail over the lakes, a stranger
often comes to the church, and visits the burial vault; he asks the
names of the kings, and they have a dead and forgotten sound. He
glances with a smile at the worm-eaten crowns, and if he happens to be
a pious, thoughtful man, something of melancholy mingles with the
smile. Slumber on, ye dead ones! The Moon thinks of you, the Moon at
night sends down his rays into your silent kingdom, over which hangs
the crown of pine wood."
TWENTY-NINTH EVENING
"Close by the high-road," said the Moon, "is an inn, and
opposite to it is a great waggon-shed, whose straw roof was just being
re-thatched. I looked down between the bare rafters and through the
open loft into the comfortless space below. The turkey-cock slept on
the beam, and the saddle rested in the empty crib. In the middle of
the shed stood a travelling carriage; the proprietor was inside,
fast asleep, while the horses were being watered. The coachman
stretched himself, though I am very sure that he had been most
comfortably asleep half the last stage. The door of the servants' room
stood open, and the bed looked as if it had been turned over and over;
the candle stood on the floor, and had burnt deep down into the
socket. The wind blew cold through the shed: it was nearer to the dawn
than to midnight. In the wooden frame on the ground slept a wandering
family of musicians. The father and mother seemed to be dreaming of
the burning liquor that remained in the bottle. The little pale
daughter was dreaming too, for her eyes were wet with tears. The harp
stood at their heads, and the dog lay stretched at their feet."
THIRTIETH EVENING
"It was in a little provincial town," the Moon said; "it certainly
happened last year, but that has nothing to do with the matter. I
saw it quite plainly. To-day I read about
the purest ether through which I was gliding, and deep below the
surface I could see the strange plants that stretched up their long
arms towards me like the gigantic trees of the forest. The fishes swam
to and fro above their tops. High in the air a flight of wild swans
were winging their way, one of which sank lower and lower, with
wearied pinions, his eyes following the airy caravan, that melted
farther and farther into the distance. With outspread wings he sank
slowly, as a soap bubble sinks in the still air, till he touched the
water. At length his head lay back between his wings, and silently
he lay there, like a white lotus flower upon the quiet lake. And a
gentle wind arose, and crisped the quiet surface, which gleamed like
the clouds that poured along in great broad waves; and the swan raised
his head, and the glowing water splashed like blue fire over his
breast and back. The morning dawn illuminated the red clouds, the swan
rose strengthened, and flew towards the rising sun, towards the bluish
coast whither the caravan had gone; but he flew alone, with a
longing in his breast. Lonely he flew over the blue swelling billows."
TWENTY-EIGHTH EVENING
"I will give you another picture of Sweden," said the Moon. "Among
dark pine woods, near the melancholy banks of the Stoxen, lies the old
convent church of Wreta. My rays glided through the grating into the
roomy vaults, where kings sleep tranquilly in great stone coffins.
On the wall, above the grave of each, is placed the emblem of
earthly grandeur, a kingly crown; but it is made only of wood, painted
and gilt, and is hung on a wooden peg driven into the wall. The
worms have gnawed the gilded wood, the spider has spun her web from
the crown down to the sand, like a mourning banner, frail and
transient as the grief of mortals. How quietly they sleep! I can
remember them quite plainly. I still see the bold smile on their lips,
that so strongly and plainly expressed joy or grief. When the
steamboat winds along like a magic snail over the lakes, a stranger
often comes to the church, and visits the burial vault; he asks the
names of the kings, and they have a dead and forgotten sound. He
glances with a smile at the worm-eaten crowns, and if he happens to be
a pious, thoughtful man, something of melancholy mingles with the
smile. Slumber on, ye dead ones! The Moon thinks of you, the Moon at
night sends down his rays into your silent kingdom, over which hangs
the crown of pine wood."
TWENTY-NINTH EVENING
"Close by the high-road," said the Moon, "is an inn, and
opposite to it is a great waggon-shed, whose straw roof was just being
re-thatched. I looked down between the bare rafters and through the
open loft into the comfortless space below. The turkey-cock slept on
the beam, and the saddle rested in the empty crib. In the middle of
the shed stood a travelling carriage; the proprietor was inside,
fast asleep, while the horses were being watered. The coachman
stretched himself, though I am very sure that he had been most
comfortably asleep half the last stage. The door of the servants' room
stood open, and the bed looked as if it had been turned over and over;
the candle stood on the floor, and had burnt deep down into the
socket. The wind blew cold through the shed: it was nearer to the dawn
than to midnight. In the wooden frame on the ground slept a wandering
family of musicians. The father and mother seemed to be dreaming of
the burning liquor that remained in the bottle. The little pale
daughter was dreaming too, for her eyes were wet with tears. The harp
stood at their heads, and the dog lay stretched at their feet."
THIRTIETH EVENING
"It was in a little provincial town," the Moon said; "it certainly
happened last year, but that has nothing to do with the matter. I
saw it quite plainly. To-day I read about