mud/content/library/grimm/088_the_singing_springing_lark.txt

The Singing, Springing Lark

There was once on a time a man who was about to set out on a long
journey, and on parting he asked his three daughters what he should
bring back with him for them. Whereupon the eldest wished for pearls,
the second wished for diamonds, but the third said, “Dear father, I
should like a singing, soaring lark.” The father said, “Yes, if I can
get it, you shall have it,” kissed all three, and set out. Now when the
time had come for him to be on his way home again, he had brought
pearls and diamonds for the two eldest, but he had sought everywhere in
vain for a singing, soaring lark for the youngest, and he was very
unhappy about it, for she was his favorite child. Then his road lay
through a forest, and in the midst of it was a splendid castle, and
near the castle stood a tree, but quite on the top of the tree, he saw
a singing, soaring lark. “Aha, you come just at the right moment!” he
said, quite delighted, and called to his servant to climb up and catch
the little creature. But as he approached the tree, a lion leapt from
beneath it, shook himself, and roared till the leaves on the trees
trembled. “He who tries to steal my singing, soaring lark,” he cried,
“will I devour.” Then the man said, “I did not know that the bird
belonged to thee. I will make amends for the wrong I have done and
ransom myself with a large sum of money, only spare my life.” The lion
said, “Nothing can save thee, unless thou wilt promise to give me for
mine own what first meets thee on thy return home; and if thou wilt do
that, I will grant thee thy life, and thou shalt have the bird for thy
daughter, into the bargain.” But the man hesitated and said, “That
might be my youngest daughter, she loves me best, and always runs to
meet me on my return home.” The servant, however, was terrified and
said, “Why should your daughter be the very one to meet you, it might
as easily be a cat, or dog?” Then the man allowed himself to be
over-persuaded, took the singing, soaring lark, and promised to give
the lion whatsoever should first meet him on his return home.

When he reached home and entered his house, the first who met him was
no other than his youngest and dearest daughter, who came running up,
kissed and embraced him, and when she saw that he had brought with him
a singing, soaring lark, she was beside herself with joy. The father,
however, could not rejoice, but began to weep, and said, “My dearest
child, I have bought the little bird dear. In return for it, I have
been obliged to promise thee to a savage lion, and when he has thee he
will tear thee in pieces and devour thee,” and he told her all, just as
it had happened, and begged her not to go there, come what might. But
she consoled him and said, “Dearest father, indeed your promise must be
fulfilled. I will go thither and soften the lion, so that I may return
to thee safely.” Next morning she had the road pointed out to her, took
leave, and went fearlessly out into the forest. The lion, however, was
an enchanted prince and was by day a lion, and all his people were
lions with him, but in the night they resumed their natural human
shapes. On her arrival she was kindly received and led into the castle.
When night came, the lion turned into a handsome man, and their wedding
was celebrated with great magnificence. They lived happily together,
remained awake at night, and slept in the daytime. One day he came and
said, “To-morrow there is a feast in thy father’s house, because your
eldest sister is to be married, and if thou art inclined to go there,
my lions shall conduct thee.” She said, “Yes, I should very much like
to see my father again,” and went thither, accompanied by the lions.
There was great joy when she arrived, for they had all believed that
she had been torn in pieces by the lion, and had long ceased to live.
But she told them what a handsome husband she had, and how well off she
was, remained with them while the wedding-feast lasted, and then went
back again to the forest. When the second daughter was about to be
married, and she was again invited to the wedding, she said to the
lion, “This time I will not be alone, thou must come with me.” The
lion, however, said that it was too dangerous for him, for if when
there a ray from a burning candle fell on him, he would be changed into
a dove, and for seven years long would have to fly about with the
doves. She said, “Ah, but do come with me, I will take great care of
thee, and guard thee from all light.” So they went away together, and
took with them their little child as well. She had a chamber built
there, so strong and thick that no ray could pierce through it; in this
he was to shut himself up when the candles were lit for the
wedding-feast. But the door was made of green wood which warped and
left a little crack which no one noticed. The wedding was celebrated
with magnificence, but when the procession with all its candles and
torches came back from church, and passed by this apartment, a ray
about the breadth of a hair fell on the King’s son, and when this ray
touched him, he was transformed in an instant, and when she came in and
looked for him, she did not see him, but a white dove was sitting
there. The dove said to her, “For seven years must I fly about the
world, but at every seventh step that you take I will let fall a drop
of red blood and a white feather, and these will show thee the way, and
if thou followest the trace thou canst release me.” Thereupon the dove
flew out at the door, and she followed him, and at every seventh step a
red drop of blood and a little white feather fell down and showed her
the way.

So she went continually further and further in the wide world, never
looking about her or resting, and the seven years were almost past;
then she rejoiced and thought that they would soon be delivered, and
yet they were so far from it! Once when they were thus moving onwards,
no little feather and no drop of red blood fell, and when she raised
her eyes the dove had disappeared. And as she thought to herself, “In
this no man can help thee,” she climbed up to the sun, and said to him,
“Thou shinest into every crevice, and over every peak, hast thou not
seen a white dove flying?” “No,” said the sun, “I have seen none, but I
present thee with a casket, open it when thou art in sorest need.” Then
she thanked the sun, and went on until evening came and the moon
appeared; she then asked her, “Thou shinest the whole night through,
and on every field and forest, hast thou not seen a white dove flying?”
“No,” said the moon, “I have seen no dove, but here I give thee an egg,
break it when thou art in great need.” She thanked the moon, and went
on until the night wind came up and blew on her, then she said to it,
“Thou blowest over every tree and under every leaf, hast thou not seen
a white dove flying?” “No,” said the night wind, “I have seen none, but
I will ask the three other winds, perhaps they have seen it.” The east
wind and the west wind came, and had seen nothing, but the south wind
said, “I have seen the white dove, it has flown to the Red Sea, where
it has become a lion again, for the seven years are over, and the lion
is there fighting with a dragon; the dragon, however, is an enchanted
princess.” The night wind then said to her, “I will advise thee; go to
the Red Sea, on the right bank are some tall reeds, count them, break
off the eleventh, and strike the dragon with it, then the lion will be
able to subdue it, and both then will regain their human form. After
that, look round and thou wilt see the griffin which is by the Red Sea;
swing thyself, with thy beloved, on to his back, and the bird will
carry you over the sea to your own home. Here is a nut for thee, when
thou are above the center of the sea, let the nut fall, it will
immediately shoot up, and a tall nut-tree will grow out of the water on
which the griffin may rest; for if he cannot rest, he will not be
strong enough to carry you across, and if thou forgettest to throw down
the nut, he will let you fall into the sea.”

Then she went thither, and found everything as the night wind had said.
She counted the reeds by the sea, and cut off the eleventh, struck the
dragon therewith, whereupon the lion overcame it, and immediately both
of them regained their human shapes. But when the princess, who had
before been the dragon, was delivered from enchantment, she took the
youth by the arm, seated herself on the griffin, and carried him off
with her. There stood the poor maiden who had wandered so far and was
again forsaken. She sat down and cried, but at last she took courage
and said, “Still I will go as far as the wind blows and as long as the
cock crows, until I find him,” and she went forth by long, long roads,
until at last she came to the castle where both of them were living
together; there she heard that soon a feast was to be held, in which
they would celebrate their wedding, but she said, “God still helps me,”
and opened the casket that the sun had given her. A dress lay therein
as brilliant as the sun itself. So she took it out and put it on, and
went up into the castle, and everyone, even the bride herself, looked
at her with astonishment. The dress pleased the bride so well that she
thought it might do for her wedding-dress, and asked if it was for
sale? “Not for money or land,” answered she, “but for flesh and blood.”
The bride asked her what she meant by that, so she said, “Let me sleep
a night in the chamber where the bridegroom sleeps.” The bride would
not, yet wanted very much to have the dress; at last she consented, but
the page was to give the prince a sleeping-draught. When it was night,
therefore, and the youth was already asleep, she was led into the
chamber; she seated herself on the bed and said, “I have followed after
thee for seven years. I have been to the sun and the moon, and the four
winds, and have enquired for thee, and have helped thee against the
dragon; wilt thou, then quite forget me?” But the prince slept so
soundly that it only seemed to him as if the wind were whistling
outside in the fir-trees. When therefore day broke, she was led out
again, and had to give up the golden dress. And as that even had been
of no avail, she was sad, went out into a meadow, sat down there, and
wept. While she was sitting there, she thought of the egg which the
moon had given her; she opened it, and there came out a clucking hen
with twelve chickens all of gold, and they ran about chirping, and
crept again under the old hen’s wings; nothing more beautiful was ever
seen in the world! Then she arose, and drove them through the meadow
before her, until the bride looked out of the window. The little
chickens pleased her so much that she immediately came down and asked
if they were for sale. “Not for money or land, but for flesh and blood;
let me sleep another night in the chamber where the bridegroom sleeps.”
The bride said, “Yes,” intending to cheat her as on the former evening.
But when the prince went to bed he asked the page what the murmuring
and rustling in the night had been? On this the page told all; that he
had been forced to give him a sleeping-draught, because a poor girl had
slept secretly in the chamber, and that he was to give him another that
night. The prince said, “Pour out the draught by the bed-side.” At
night, she was again led in, and when she began to relate how ill all
had fared with her, he immediately recognized his beloved wife by her
voice, sprang up and cried, “Now I really am released! I have been as
it were in a dream, for the strange princess has bewitched me so that I
have been compelled to forget thee, but God has delivered me from the
spell at the right time.” Then they both left the castle secretly in
the night, for they feared the father of the princess, who was a
sorcerer, and they seated themselves on the griffin which bore them
across the Red Sea, and when they were in the midst of it, she let fall
the nut. Immediately a tall nut-tree grew up, whereon the bird rested,
and then carried them home, where they found their child, who had grown
tall and beautiful, and they lived thenceforth happily until their
death.