قراءة كتاب On the Tree Top
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Nor find elsewhere so rich a wife.”
Then he led her by the hand
Through still another door,
To a room filled twice as full of straw
As either had been before.
There stood the chair and the spinning-wheel,
And there the can of oil and the reel;
And as he gently shut her in
He whispered, “Spin, little maiden, spin.”
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Again she wept, and again Did the little dwarf appear; “What will you give this time,” he asked, “If I spin for you, my dear?” Alas—poor little maid—alas! Out of her eyes as gray as glass Faster and faster tears did fall, As she moaned, “I’ve nothing to give at all.” Ah, wicked indeed he looked; But while she sighed, he smiled! “Promise, when you are queen,” he said, “To give me your first-born child!” Little she tho’t what that might mean, Or if ever in truth she should be queen Anything, so that the work was done— Anything, so that the gold was spun! She promised all that he chose to ask; And blithely he began the task. Round went the wheel, and round, Whiz, and whiz-z, and whiz-z-z! So swift that the thread at the spindle point Flew off with buzz and hiss. |
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She dozed—so tired her eyelids were— To the endless whirr, and whirr, and whirr; Though not even sleep could overcome The wheel’s revolving hum, hum, hum! When at last she woke the room was clean, Not a broken bit of straw was seen; But in huge high heaps were piled and rolled Great spools of gold—nothing but gold! It was just at the earliest peep of dawn, And she was alone—the dwarf was gone. |
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It was indeed a marvellous thing For a miller’s daughter to wed a king; But never was royal lady seen More fair and sweet than this young queen. The spinning dwarf she quite forgot In the ease and pleasure of her lot; And not until her first-born child Into her face had looked and smiled Did she remember the promise made; Then her heart grew sick, her soul afraid. |
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One day her chamber door Pushed open just a chink, And she saw the well-known crooked dwarf, His wise smile and his blink. He claimed at once the promised child; But she gave a cry so sad and wild That even his heart was touched to hear; And, after a little, drawing near, He whispered and said: “You pledged The baby, and I came; But if in three days you can learn By foul or fair my name— By foul or fair, by wile or snare, You can its syllables declare, Then is the child yours—only then— And me you shall never see again!” |
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He vanished from her sight, And she called her pages in; She sent one this way, and one that; She called her kith and kin, Bade one go here, and one go there, Despatched them thither, everywhere— That from each quarter each might bring The oddest names he could to the king. |
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Next morning the dwarf appeared, And the queen began to say, “Caspar,” “Balthassar,” “Melchoir”— But the dwarf cried out, “Nay, nay!” Shaking his little crooked frame, “That’s not my name, that’s not my name!” |
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The second day ’twas the same; But the third a messenger Came in from the mountains to the queen, And told this tale to her: That, riding under the forest boughs, He came to a tiny, curious house; Before it a feeble fire burned wan, And about the fire was a little man; In and out the brands among, Dancing upon one leg, he sung: “To-day I’ll stew, and then I’ll bake, To-morrow I shall the queen’s child take; How fine that none is the secret in, That my name is Rumpelstiltskin!” |
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The queen was overjoyed, And when, due time next day, The dwarf returned for the final word, She made great haste to say: “Is it Conrade?” “No,”—he shook his head. “Is it Hans? or Hal?” Still “No,” he said. “Is it Rumpelstiltskin?” then she cried. “A witch has told you,” he replied, And shrieked and stamped his foot so hard That the very marble floor was jarred; And his leg broke off above the knee, And he hopped off, howling terribly. |
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He vanished then and there, And never more was seen! This much was in his dreadful name— It saved her child to the queen. And the little lady grew to be So very sweet, so fair to see, That none could her loveliness surpass; And her eyes—they were as gray as glass! |
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