The sun had risen twice upon the world, and again set, and now the moon was casting her silvery beams upon the dancing waves, when the Princess Serena went forth, on the sea-shore, to search for the brave Alonzo, for he returned not as he promised. Long she wandered up and down, and with anxious gaze watched the shining ocean, but still he came not.
She listened for his voice, but no sound was heard, only the low murmur of the rippling water upon the yellow sand. Her heart sank with fear, and grief, hitherto a stranger to her, took possession of her bosom. At length she climbed to the summit of a high rock which overhung the sea. There she stood, with straining eyes and arms stretched over the ocean, calling in a tone of anguish on Alonzo to return to her. As she uttered his name, a form, vast, shadowy, and majestic, appeared beneath the moonlight, and a voice, so soft it seemed a note of sweet music, pronounced her name. The Princess listened with eagerness and astonishment. Again, from afar, came that low and sweetly solemn voice. “Serena, Serena, Serena!” it said. Well did the Princess know the voice. It was Alonzo’s. Though he was not seen, she felt that he was near her; nor did the vast form on the ocean bring any terror to her bosom.
“Serena, Serena!” repeated the voice.
“Serena, dearest, haste to me,
And I will bear thee o’er the sea,
To halls so rich, so bright, so fair,
Sparkling with every jewel rare,
Where you, beloved, in peace shall reign,
The gentle guardian of the main.
Then, sweet Serena, come to me,
And I will bear thee o’er the sea.”
“Yes, beloved one, I will go to thee,” she exclaimed, and fearlessly she sprang towards the bright ocean which slumbered below.
The waters sparkled as she fell, a joyous voice again uttered her name, and a form, though it was Borasco’s, no longer hideous in her sight, received her in his arms.
The maidens of the Princess, when they saw the vast form of Borasco floating on the water, were horrified; but when they observed her throw herself off the rock, and watched her carried away in the arms of the seeming monster, they fled terrified to the palace, and reported what had occurred. At first there was some doubt thrown on the matter, and when the stranger Alonzo did not return, people went so far as to say that the unhappy Princess had, in a fit of madness, thrown herself into the sea for love of him. The enemies of Alonzo, who had heard the pirates claim as a friend, said that he was a pirate himself, and that he had carried off the Princess. At all events, the poor King was overwhelmed with grief at the loss of his daughter, and called his chiefs together, to consult as to what could have become of her, or if means could be taken to recover her.
The sages differed for some time in their opinions. One said, “If she had jumped into the sea and was drowned, they could not expect her to return.” Another observed that, if she had been carried away by a pirate, it was to be hoped that the pirate would bring her back again; while a third sagaciously remarked that, in order to recover her, not knowing where she was, it would be necessary to look for her.
At length one of the very oldest of the sages remembered the prophecy about which the King had dreamed on the night of the storm, when Alonzo came to the island. “There can be no doubt,” he observed, “that the first part referred to the stranger who had rendered such signal service to the state, for which service he received, as guerdon great, the hand of the Princess.