Once upon a time, in a small village nestled amidst towering pine trees, there lived a diminutive witch in a copse. This particular witch, named Elara, was unlike any other witch in the land. She was not interested in casting malicious spells or causing chaos. Instead, Elara used her magic for good. Her cozy little cottage, hidden among the trees, was a sanctuary of peace and tranquility. Elara would spend her days concocting healing potions and tending to the injured animals that sought refuge in the copse.
Elara would spend her days concocting healing potions and tending to the injured animals that sought refuge in the copse. It seemed as if all creatures, big and small, were drawn to her kind and gentle nature. Despite her tiny stature, Elara possessed a wealth of knowledge about herbs and their medicinal properties.
University of Virginia Library
I never was a favourite,
My mother never smiled
On me, with half the tenderness
That bless'd her fairer child.
I've seen her kiss my sister's cheek,
While fondled on her knee;
I've turn'd away to hide my tears—
There was no kiss for me!
II
And yet I strove to please, with all
My little store of sense;
I strove to please, and infancy
Can rarely give offence;
But when my artless efforts met
A cold, ungentle check,
I did not dare to throw myself
In tears upon her neck.
III
How blessed are the beautiful!
Love watches o'er their birth;
Oh, beauty! in my nursery
I learn'd to know thy worth;
For even there, I often felt
Forsaken and forlorn,
And wish'd—for others wish'd it too—
I never had been born!
IV
I'm sure I was affectionate—
But in my sister's face
There was a look of love, that claim'd
A smile or an embrace!
But when I raised my lip, to meet
The pressure children prize,
None knew the feelings of my heart—
They spoke not in my eyes.
V
But, oh! that heart too keenly felt
The anguish of neglect;
I saw my sister's lovely form
With gems and roses deck'd;
I did not covet them—but oft,
When wantonly reproved,
I envied her the privilege
Of being so beloved.
VI
But soon a time of triumph came,
A time of sorrow too;
For sickness o'er my sister's form
Her venom'd mantle threw;
The features, once so beautiful,
Now wore the hue of death,
And former friends shrank fearfully
From her infectious breath.
VII
'Twas then, unwearied, day and night,
I watch'd beside her bed,
And fearlessly upon my breast
I pillow'd her poor head.
She lived—she loved me for my care!
My grief was at an end;
I was a lonely being once,
But now I have a friend!
| Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems |
This article examines Frederick Sandys’ and J.W. Waterhouse’s depictions of sorceresses, through the objects surrounding the subjects. It argues that these objects can tell us something important not only about the figure of the witch, but about female roles and men’s perception of them in Victorian Britain. Through exploration of myth and the occult, male gaze turns to female agency, an agency expressed through objects. Furthermore, the symbolism integral to the paintings invites us to explore similar gender relations in the ancient world. This article traces the witches back through their myths to the Greek texts in which they appear, and asks to what extent these objects, and their implications for female agency and male responses to it, have their roots in the Greek tradition. Women in Greek epic are treated as objects, caught up in a male-controlled network of exchange. They are characters with limited agency, in that they are not the conventionally spotlighted protagonists. This does not mean, however, that they do nothing behind the scenes. ‘As much as men may define women as exchange objects, there is always the possibility that women will find a way to express their own agency’ (Lyons 2012:19). That this female agency is often expressed through objects is therefore a subversion of the male viewpoint, as women enact their agency through the very form they themselves are thought by men to represent. In focusing in on the Pre-Raphaelites’ presentation of objects, this article begins to peel away layers of reception and interpretation, showing that the eclectic clutter with which the artists surround their witches reflects the eclectic sources of the Victorian imagination.
Some villagers began to seek her out for remedies for their ailments, knowing that Elara's potions were more effective than anything they could find in a market. Her healing prowess spread like wildfire, and soon people from far and wide were seeking her help. Word of this extraordinary diminutive witch in the copse reached the ears of the royal family. The king's daughter had fallen gravely ill, and no physician or remedy could cure her. Desperate, the king sent out a royal decree, offering a handsome reward for anyone who could heal his beloved daughter. When the news reached Elara, she was initially hesitant. She had always preferred a life of solitude, away from the prying eyes of the world. But something inside her stirred, and she knew that it was her duty to help. Gathering her potions and herbs, she set off on a journey to the royal palace. The palace was a grand spectacle, far removed from the enchanting simplicity of her copse. Elara was escorted to the princess's chamber, where she found the young girl pale and weak, with no hope left in her eyes. Determined, Elara began administering her potions and using her magic to ease the princess's pain. Days turned into weeks, and Elara never left the princess's side. Her dedication and compassion were unwavering. Slowly, the princess's color returned, and her vitality began to blossom. The king and queen rejoiced, grateful beyond words for Elara's miraculous abilities. In the end, Elara asked for nothing in return. She returned to her humble cottage in the copse, content with knowing that she had made a difference. The grateful villagers continued to seek her guidance, and her reputation as a healer spread even further. And so, the diminutive witch in the copse became a legend. Her name passed through generations, whispered in awe and gratitude. Elara's story serves as a reminder that true power lies not in the size or grandeur but in the kindness and compassion that one possesses..
Reviews for "The Influence of the Diminutive Witch in the Copse on Faerie Folklore"
- Jessica - 2 stars - I found "Diminutive witch in the copse" to be quite underwhelming. The story was slow-paced and lacked depth, leaving me feeling bored and disinterested throughout. The characters were one-dimensional and the plot felt predictable. Additionally, the writing style was uninspiring and failed to capture my attention. Overall, I was disappointed with this book and would not recommend it to others.
- Michael - 2 stars - "Diminutive witch in the copse" failed to meet my expectations. The story felt disjointed and confusing, with many loose ends left unresolved. The characterization was weak, making it difficult to connect with any of the characters. The pacing was uneven, with long stretches of nothing happening followed by sudden bursts of action. The writing style was also lackluster, lacking originality and failing to create a vivid and immersive world. I regret spending my time on this book and would not suggest it to anyone looking for a captivating read.
- Sarah - 1 star - To say that I was disappointed with "Diminutive witch in the copse" would be an understatement. The plot was convoluted and difficult to follow, with unnecessary subplots that added little to the overall story. The characters were uninteresting and their motivations were unclear. The writing itself was poor, filled with awkward and clunky dialogue that didn't feel authentic. I struggled to finish this book and felt like it was a waste of time. I would not recommend it to others.