The Enchanted Island

by Washington Irving

　　Break, Phantsie, from thy cave of cloud,And wave thy purple wings,Now all thy figures are allowed,And various shapes of things.Create of airy forms a stream;It must have blood and nought of phlegm;And though it be a walking dream,Yet let it like an odor riseTo all the senses here,And fall like sleep upon their eyes,Or music on their ear.~ Ben Jonson

　　"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in ourphilosophy," and among these may be placed that marvel and mystery ofthe seas, the island of St. Brandan. Every school-boy can enumerate andcall by name the Canaries, the Fortunate Islands of the ancients; which,according to some ingenious speculative minds, are mere wrecks andremnants of the vast island of Atalantis, mentioned by Plato, as havingbeen swallowed up by the ocean. Whoever has read the history of thoseisles, will remember the wonders told of another island, still morebeautiful, seen occasionally from their shores, stretching away in theclear bright west, with long shadowy promontories, and high, sun-giltpeaks. Numerous expeditions, both in ancient and modern days, havelaunched forth from the Canaries in quest of that island; but, on theirapproach, mountain and promontory have gradually faded away, untilnothing has remained but the blue sky above, and the deep blue waterbelow. Hence it was termed by the geographers of old, Aprositus, or theInaccessible; while modern navigators have called its very existence inquestion, pronouncing it a mere optical illusion, like the Fata Morganaof the Straits of Messina; or classing it with those unsubstantialregions known to mariners as Cape Flyaway, and the Coast of Cloud Land.Let not, however, the doubts of the worldly-wise sceptics of modern daysrob us of all the glorious realms owned by happy credulity in days ofyore. Be assured, O reader of easy faith!--thou for whom I delight tolabor--be assured, that such an island does actually exist, and has,from time to time, been revealed to the gaze, and trodden by the feet,of favored mortals. Nay, though doubted by historians and philosophers,its existence is fully attested by the poets, who, being an inspiredrace, and gifted with a kind of second sight, can see into the mysteriesof nature, hidden from the eyes of ordinary mortals. To this gifted raceit has ever been a region of fancy and romance, teeming with all kindsof wonders. Here once bloomed, and perhaps still blooms, the famousgarden of the Hesperides, with its golden fruit. Here, too, was theenchanted garden of Armida, in which that sorceress held the Christianpaladin, Rinaldo, in delicious but inglorious thraldom; as is set forthin the immortal lay of Tasso. It was on this island, also, that Sycorax,the witch, held sway, when the good Prospero, and his infant daughterMiranda, were wafted to its shores. The isle was then

　　...."full of noises,Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not."

　　Who does not know the tale, as told in the magic page of Shakspeare?In fact, the island appears to have been, at different times, under thesway of different powers, genii of earth, and air, and ocean; who madeit their shadowy abode; or rather, it is the retiring place of oldworn-out deities and dynasties, that once ruled the poetic world,but are now nearly shorn of all their attributes. Here Neptune andAmphitrite hold a diminished court, like sovereigns in exile. Theirocean-chariot lies bottom upward, in a cave of the island, almost aperfect wreck, while their pursy Tritons and haggard Nereids basklistlessly, like seals about the rocks. Sometimes they assume a shadowof their ancient pomp, and glide in state about the glassy sea; whilethe crew of some tall Indiaman, that lies becalmed with flapping sails,hear with astonishment the mellow note of the Triton's shell swellingupon the ear, as the invisible pageant sweeps by. Sometimes the quondammonarch of the ocean is permitted to make himself visible to mortaleyes, visiting the ships that cross the line, to exact a tribute fromnew-comers; the only remnant of his ancient rule, and that, alas!performed with tattered state, and tarnished splendor.On the shores of this wondrous island, the mighty kraken heaves hisbulk, and wallows many a rood; here, too, the sea-serpent lies coiledup, during the intervals of his much-contested revelations to theeyes of true believers; and here it is said, even the Flying Dutchmanfinds a port and casts his anchor, and furls his shadowy sail, andtakes a short repose from his eternal wanderings.Here all the treasures lost in the deep are safely garnered. The cavernsof the shores are piled with golden ingots, hexes of pearls, rich balesof oriental silks; and their deep recesses sparkle with diamonds, orflame with carbuncles. Here, in deep bays and harbors, lies many aspell-bound ship, long given up as lost by the ruined merchant. Here,too, its crew, long bewailed as swallowed up in ocean, lie sleeping inmossy grottoes, from age to age, or wander about enchanted shores andgroves, in pleasing oblivion of all things.Such are some of the marvels related of this island, and which may serveto throw some light on the following legend, of unquestionable truth,which I recommend to the entire belief of the reader.

　　THE END.* * * * * * * * * * * *