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Updated: June 19, 2025
You shall stay with me here till you are well, and then you shall go to London and find Despoina " "Do you mean Sanchia?" Glyde was still unregenerate at heart. "I mean whom I say, your mistress and mine. You are not fit to name her by any other name." "No, no I know it," said the youth; "but her name is so beautiful."
Despoina is the only fairy I ever saw in any other colour than those I have named. She always wears blue, of the colour of the shadows on a moonlight night, very beautiful. She, too, wears sandals, which they say the Satyrs weave for her as a tribute. They lay them down where she has been or is likely to be; for they never see her.
Haven't I told you that I see you every night?" "And I tell you nothing of my secret?" "I never ask you." "But do I not tell you? Can I keep it?" "You don't speak to me. You never speak. You look. Fairies don't speak with the tongue. They have better ways." "What do you do with me?" "I follow you, over the hills." "And then?" "At dawn you leave me." "I am a ghost?" "I don't know. You are Despoina.
I asked Despoina about it, but she would not, or she did not, answer. "She showed her dislike of it in numerous ways: one was her care to avoid touching the sides or top of the enclosure when she was at her gambols.
"Despoina is here," she said, and blew out the light. It was intensely dark in the cup of the hills, but by the difference of a tone it was just possible to make out where the sky began. Looking closer yet, you could guess at a film of light, as if the rim of down absorbed and reflected a caught radiance from the stars.
Lawson tells us such suggestive things in his Modern Greek Folk-lore? Who is Despoina, with whom I myself have conversed, "a dread goddess, not of human speech?" The truth, I suspect, is this. There are, as we know, countless tribes, clans, or orders of fairies, just as there are nations of men.
She obeys the law because she dare not break it; you because you choose to keep it. Despoina! Despoina!" She laughed, a little awry. "You used to call me Artemis. I'm not she any more." "You are all the goddesses. You do what you please. Your mind is of Artemis; you have the form of Demeter, the grave-eyed spirit of the corn and your gown, I observe, is blue, as hers was.
When we talk of Queens or Kings of the Fairies, of Oberon and Titania, for example, are we using a rough translation of a real something, or are we telling the mere truth? Is there a fairy king? The King of the Wood, for instance, who was he? Is there a fairy queen? Who is Queen Mab? Who is Despoina? Who is the Lady of the Lake? Who is the "Βασίλισσα τὣν βουνὣν," or "Μεγάλη Κυρά" of whom Mr.
He looked at her, smiling with his eyes. "You are Despoina." "Oh," said she, "I thought I was Queen Mab." "It is the same thing. Despoina means the Lady the Lady of the Country. She is a great fairy. The greatest." It was now for her to smile at him, which she did a little wistfully. "Your Despoina is either too much fairy, or not enough. She does very humdrum things.
"I wrote out my heart in my first years of knowing her; but since then I have gone under the harrow of this world, where there can be no singing. Now that I am at peace my voice has come back. I listen to what she tells me, and note it. Like Dante, vo significando: I am a drain-pipe for her spirit. She was Hymnia to me once, and I sang of Open Country; now she is Despoina, Mistress of the Night.
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