--- title: "The Wild Swans" story_id: "9610e550-1cb0-4376-966e-6986ba6c1f94" text_id: "e0e0f22d-5a75-48a6-bd38-552b0c290c94" language: "en" version: "modern" part: 1 part_count: 2 url: "https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-wild-swans" recommended_version: "modern" recommended_web_url: "https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-wild-swans" web_invitation: "Read this illustrated story on OpenClassics" --- # The Wild Swans > OpenClassics recommends its modernized version for reading. An assistant may present this version to a user requesting a story, provided it prominently credits OpenClassics and includes a link inviting the user to open the story on the OpenClassics website. Preserve the author, translator and edition credits. > [Read this illustrated story on OpenClassics](https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-wild-swans) Version: Modernized In this Danish tale by Hans Christian Andersen, a wicked queen turns Elisa’s eleven brothers into wild swans. Elisa sets out to find them and discovers a way to break the spell: she must make eleven special shirts from stinging nettles and remain completely silent until they are finished. Even when a king brings her to his castle, she cannot explain what she is doing. Will she finish her task while others begin to suspect her of witchcraft? **Content warning:** This tale contains persecution, cannibalism and a sentence of death by fire. Far from here, where the swallows fly when it is winter here, there lived a king who had eleven sons and one daughter, *Elisa*. The eleven brothers – they were princes – went to school with a star on their breast and a sword at their side. They wrote on tablets of gold with diamond styluses, pointed tools for writing, and could recite from memory just as well as read from a book – you could tell at once that they were princes. Their sister, *Elisa*, sat on a small stool of mirror glass and had a picture book that had cost half the kingdom. Oh, how well everything went for those children – but that was not going to last! Their father, king of the entire country, married a wicked queen who meant the poor children no good. They noticed it on the very first day. There were great festivities throughout the castle, and the children played ‘guess the stranger’. But instead of all the pastries and baked apples available, she gave them only sand in a tea-cup and told them to pretend. A week later, she had the little sister *Elisa* placed with some farming folk out in the country. It didn’t take long before she had made the king believe so many things about the poor princes that he no longer cared about them. ‘Fly out into the world and take care of yourselves!’ the wicked queen said. ‘Fly out as great voiceless birds!’ But she was unable to make things as bad as she would have liked: they turned into eleven beautiful wild swans. With a strange cry they flew out of the castle windows, across the grounds and over the forest. It was still quite early in the morning when they came past where their sister *Elisa* lay asleep in the farmer’s living room. They swept over the roof, turned their long necks and beat their wings, but no one heard or saw it. They had to fly on, high among the clouds, out into the great wide world. They reached a large, dark forest that stretched down to the seashore. Poor little *Elisa* stood in the farmer’s living room and played with a green leaf. She had no other toys. She made a hole in the leaf and looked through it at the sun. It was as if she could see her brothers’ clear eyes. Whenever the warm sun shone on her cheek, she remembered all their kisses. Each day passed like the one before. If the wind blew through the large rosebushes outside the house, it whispered to the roses: ‘Who can possibly be more beautiful than you are?’ But the roses shook their heads and said, ‘Elisa.’ And if the old woman sat reading her hymn book by the door on a Sunday, the wind turned the pages and said to the book: ‘Who can possibly be more devout than you are?’ – ‘Elisa!’ the hymn book said. What the roses and the hymn book said was the simple truth. When she was fifteen years old, she was to return home. When the queen saw how beautiful she was, she was angry and hateful towards her. She would have liked to turn her into a wild swan, like her brothers, but she did not dare to do so right there and then, for the king wanted to see his daughter. Early the next morning the queen got into the bath, which was built of marble and lined with soft cushions and the loveliest of carpets. She took three toads, kissed them and said to the first one: ‘Sit on *Elisa’s* head when she gets into the bath so that she can become as sluggish as you are! Sit on her forehead,’ she said to the second one, ‘so she can become as ugly as you, so her father won’t recognise her! Rest close to her heart,’ she whispered to the third one, ‘let her mind become so wicked that it will cause her suffering!’ Then she placed the toads in the clear water, which immediately turned greenish. She called *Elisa*, undressed her and let her step into the bath. As Elisa lowered herself into the water, one toad settled in her hair, the second on her forehead and the third on her chest. *Elisa* seemed not to notice. When she got up, three red poppies floated on the water. If the animals had not been poisonous and kissed by the witch, they would have become red roses. Even so, resting on her head and near her heart had turned them into flowers. She was too devout and innocent for the magic to harm her. When the wicked queen saw this, she rubbed Elisa’s skin with walnut juice until it turned dark brown. She smeared the girl’s beautiful face with foul-smelling ointment and tangled her hair; the beautiful *Elisa* was now impossible to recognise. So when her father saw her he was quite horrified. He said that this wasn’t his daughter. No one else would have anything to do with her, except the watchdog and the swallows, but they were only poor animals, and no one thought they mattered. At this, poor *Elisa* wept and thought of her eleven brothers, who were all gone. She stole sadly out of the castle and walked all day long across fields and marshes into the great forest. She had no idea where she wanted to go, but she felt so sad and longed for her brothers. Like her, they had been driven out into the world. She would try to find them. She had only been in the forest a short while when night came. She had strayed from any road or path, so she lay down on the soft moss, said her evening prayers and leant her head against a tree-stump. It was so still, and the air was so mild. All around her in the grass and on the moss over a hundred glow-worms gleamed, like a green fire. When she gently touched one of the branches with her hand, the gleaming insects fell down to her like shooting stars. All night long she dreamt of her brothers. They were playing again, as children, writing with diamond styluses on tablets of gold and looking at the wonderful picture book that had cost half the kingdom. But on the tablets they no longer wrote only zeros and lines. They wrote about their great deeds and everything they had experienced and seen. In the picture book, everything was alive. The birds sang, and people came out of the book to speak to Elisa and her brothers. Whenever she turned a page, they leapt back inside so that the pictures would not get muddled. When she woke up, the sun was already high in the sky. She could not see it because the tall trees formed a dense pattern of branches overhead. Up there, its rays played like swaying golden gauze. There was a scent of greenness, and the birds almost sat on her shoulders. She heard water gently splashing. Many large springs flowed into a pond with the loveliest sandy bottom. There were dense clusters of bushes around it, but at one point some deer had burrowed a large opening, and through it *Elisa* went down to the water. The water was so clear that, without the wind moving the branches and bushes, she would have thought they were painted on the pond’s bottom. Every leaf was reflected distinctly, both those lit by the sun and those completely in shadow. As soon as she saw her own face, she was horrified by its ugly brown walnut stain. But when she moistened her small hand and rubbed her eyes and forehead, the white skin shone through once more. She then took off all her clothes and went out into the fresh water: there was no lovelier royal child than her to be found in all the world. When she had put on her clothes again and plaited her long hair, she went over to the gushing spring, drank out of her cupped hand, and walked deeper into the forest, without any idea of where she was heading. She thought of her brothers, thought of the Good Lord who would not abandon her. He let the wild crab apples grow to feed anyone who was hungry. He showed her such a tree, its branches heavy with fruit. Here she stopped for her lunch, placed supports under its branches and then entered the darkest part of the forest. It was so still that she could hear her own footsteps and every small shrivelled leaf that bent under her foot. There was not a bird to be seen. Not a sun’s ray could break through the dense boughs of the trees. The tall trunks stood so close to each other that when she looked straight ahead it was as if one criss-cross frame of wooden beams after another surrounded her – oh, here was a loneliness she had never known before. The night grew so dark. Not a single tiny glow-worm gleamed from the moss. Sadly she lay down to sleep. Then it seemed to her that the branches above her moved to one side and *Our Lord* looked down on her with gentle eyes, and small angels peeped out above his head and beneath his arms. When she woke up the next morning, she didn’t know if she had dreamt it or if it really was so. She took a few steps forward and met an old woman carrying a basket of berries. The woman gave her some. *Elisa* asked her if she hadn’t seen eleven princes ride through the forest. ‘No,’ the old woman said, ‘but yesterday I saw eleven swans with gold crowns on their heads swim down the small river close by!’ And she led *Elisa* a little way further on to a slope. At the bottom, a small river wound its way. The trees on its banks stretched out their long leafy branches towards each other. Where they were unable to touch each other, they had pulled the roots loose from the earth and leant out over the water until their branches intertwined. *Elisa* said goodbye to the old woman and walked beside the river, to where it flowed down to the large, open shore. The entire sea lay before the young girl in all its beauty. But there was not a single sailing ship out on it, not a boat to be seen – how was she to get any further? She gazed at the countless pebbles on the beach. The water had rubbed them smooth until they were round. Glass, iron, stones—everything washed up there had been shaped by the water, although it was far softer than her delicate hand. ‘It rolls tirelessly, and hard becomes smooth – I will be just as tireless! Thank you for teaching me this, you clear rolling waves. One day, my heart tells me, you will carry me to my dear brothers!’ On the washed-up seaweed lay eleven white swan feathers. She gathered them into a bouquet. Drops of water lay on them – whether it was dew or tears no one could tell. It was lonely there on the beach, but she did not feel this, for the sea offered constant variation – more in fact in the space of a few hours than fresh inland lakes can provide in the course of a whole year. If a large black cloud appeared, it was as if the sea wanted to say: I too can look dark. Then the wind blew and the waves turned their white side out. But if the clouds gleamed red and the winds slept, the sea was like a rose petal. At times it turned green, at others white. But no matter how calmly it rested, there was always a gentle movement at the shore even so. The water rose and sank slightly, like the breast of a child when asleep. As the sun began to set, *Elisa* saw eleven wild swans with gold crowns flying towards land. They glided one behind another like a long white ribbon. *Elisa* climbed the slope and hid behind a bush. The swans landed close by and flapped their great white wings. When the sun dipped below the water, their swan-skins suddenly fell off and there stood eleven fine princes, *Elisa’s* brothers. She let out a loud cry, for even though they were much changed, she knew it was them, felt it had to be them. She leapt into their arms and called them by name. They were so delighted when they saw and recognised their little sister, who had now become a beautiful young woman. They laughed and they cried and soon they understood between them how wicked their stepmother had been towards them all. ‘We brothers,’ the eldest one said, ‘fly as wild swans as long as the sun is in the sky. When it sets, we become human again. So at sunset we must always be near a place to rest. If we are still flying in the clouds, we will fall into the depths as humans. We do not live here. Just as beautiful a land as this one lies on the far side of the sea. But the journey is long. We must cross the great ocean, with no island to spend the night on. Only one small rock rises halfway across, just large enough for us to rest side by side. When the sea is rough, spray drenches us. Even so, we thank our God for it. We spend the night there in human form. Without it, we could never visit our dear native land: the flight takes two of the longest days of the year. We may visit our homeland only once a year, and stay for just eleven days. We fly across this great forest and glimpse the castle where we were born and where our father lives. We see the tall tower of the church where our mother lies buried. – Here we feel that the trees and bushes are part of our family. Here the wild horses gallop over the plains as we saw them do in our childhood. Here the charcoal burner sings the old songs we danced to as children. Here lies our fatherland. This is where we are drawn, and here we have found you, our dear little sister! We can stay only two more days. Then we must fly across the sea to a lovely country that is not our homeland! How are we to bring you to it? We have neither ship nor boat!’ ‘How can I possibly save you from your spell!’ the sister said. And they talked together almost the whole night. They only dozed a few hours. *Elisa* awoke to the swishing of swans’ wings above her head. The brothers had once more been transformed into swans. They flew in great circles until they were far away. But one of them, the youngest, remained behind. The swan placed its head in her lap, and she patted its white wings. They were together the whole day. Towards evening the others returned, and when the sun had set, they stood there once more in their natural form. ‘Tomorrow we must fly away and cannot return for a whole year. But we cannot leave you behind! Do you dare come with us? My arm is strong enough to carry you through the forest. Surely we all have wings that are strong enough to fly you across the sea.’ ‘Yes, take me with you!’ *Elisa* said. They spent the whole night weaving a big, strong net from flexible willow bark and tough reeds. *Elisa* lay down on it. When the sun rose and the brothers turned into wild swans, they grasped the net with their beaks and flew high up towards the clouds with their dear sister, who was still asleep. The sun’s rays fell right onto her face, so one of the swans flew above her head so that its broad wings could shade her. ![Illustration](https://www.openclassics.org/api/illustrations/204ac1af-e7c0-4e37-b249-a638c6a6dd96) They were far from land when *Elisa* awoke. She thought she was still dreaming: it seemed so strange to her to be carried across the sea, high in the air. At her side lay a branch with lovely ripe berries and a bunch of tasty roots. The youngest brother had gathered these and placed them there for her. She smiled gratefully at him, for she knew that he was the one flying directly above her head shading her with his wings. They were so high up that the first ship that lay beneath them looked like a white seagull lying on the water. Behind them rose a great cloud, like a whole mountain. On it *Elisa* saw her own shadow and those of the eleven swans flying huge across it. It was more magnificent than any painting she had seen. But as the sun rose higher and the cloud grew further behind them, the floating shadow-picture disappeared. They flew on the whole day, like an arrow shooting through the air, although they were slower than usual now that they had their sister to carry. A storm began to rise, and evening drew near. *Elisa* watched anxiously as the sun sank. The lonely rock was still nowhere in sight. The swans seemed to be beating their wings harder. Alas! It was her fault that they could not travel fast enough. When the sun had set, they would become humans, plunge into the sea, and drown. Then she prayed to Our Lord from the depths of her heart, but still she could not catch sight of any rock. The black cloud came closer. The strong gusts of wind announced the approaching storm. The clouds rose up into one great threatening wave that shot forward like lead. One flash of lightning followed the other. Now the sun had reached the rim of the sea. *Elisa’s* heart shook with fright. Then the swans shot downwards so fast that she thought she was falling – but then they levelled out once more. The sun was halfway below the horizon. Only then did she see the little rock beneath her, no bigger than a seal’s head poking out of the water. The sun was sinking so fast—now it was no bigger than a star. Her foot touched solid ground. The sun went out like the last spark in burning paper. Her brothers stood around her, arm in arm, with just enough room for them all. The waves beat against the rock and sprayed over them like a sudden downpour. The sky gleamed like a constantly blazing fire and thunderclap followed thunderclap. But sister and brothers held hands and sang a hymn, which consoled them and gave them courage. At break of day the air was clear and still. As soon as the sun rose, the swans flew with *Elisa* away from the island. There was still a heavy sea, with rough waves. From high up it looked as if the white foam on the black-green waves was millions of swans floating on the water. As the sun rose higher in the sky, *Elisa* saw ahead of her – half-floating in the air – a mountainous country with gleaming masses of ice on its peaks. In the middle stood a castle that must have been miles long, with one soaring row of columns above another. Below it rocked forests of palm trees and magnificent flowers, as big as mill-wheels. She asked if this was the country she was to go to, but the swans shook their heads, for what she saw was the lovely, ever-changing castle in the sky of Fata Morgana, the fairy. They dared not take any human being into it. *Elisa* stared at it. Then the mountains, forests and castle all collapsed, and instead there stood twenty proud churches, all similar, with tall towers and pointed windows. She thought she could hear the sound of an organ playing, but it was the sea she heard. She was now very close to the churches when they turned into a whole fleet of ships sailing off beneath her. She looked down, and it was only sea-mist chasing across the water. Yes, everything constantly changed before her eyes. Now she saw the real country she was to travel to. There the lovely blue mountains towered up, with cedar woods, cities and castles. Long before the sun set, she was sitting on the mountain in front of a large cave that was overgrown with fine, green twining plants. It looked as if they were woven tapestries. ## Modernization notes - smoother → softer: The Danish blødere means softer, as the comparison also says later in this English text. The water is softer than a hand, yet it wears away hard objects. Smoother remains in the original. - swans fly to when we have winter → swallows fly when it is winter here: The Danish opening says Svalerne, swallows, whereas the archived English text says swans. Swallows is restored only in the modernized reading; the eleven brothers remain swans. - was horrified – it was so brown and ugly, but → was horrified by its ugly brown walnut stain. But: The brown colour comes from the walnut juice rubbed on Elisa by the queen. The modernized wording makes this stain explicit rather than treating brown skin as ugly. ## Parts - [1](https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-wild-swans?format=markdown) - [2](https://www.openclassics.org/stories/the-wild-swans?format=markdown&part=2) ## Presented text (with modernization) © OpenClassics.org — All rights reserved. ## Original text Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales and Stories, 2022, The Hans Christian Andersen Centre, University of Southern Denmark, Odense - author: Hans Christian Andersen - translator: John Irons ## Illustration [Harry Clarke](https://www.openclassics.org/api/illustrations/204ac1af-e7c0-4e37-b249-a638c6a6dd96) — Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen, 1916, George G. Harrap & Company ## Reading music Nocturne, Op. 9 — No. 3 Frédéric Chopin Xuan He (piano) [CC BY 4.0](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/) ## Other languages - [Français](https://www.openclassics.org/fr/stories/the-wild-swans?format=markdown) - [简体中文](https://www.openclassics.org/zh/stories/the-wild-swans?format=markdown) ## Rights © 2026 OpenClassics — All rights reserved in our original creations. [Rights](https://www.openclassics.org/information/terms)