PART FIRST.Oene, of all the chilly Arctics, queen,Ascended to her everlasting throneBuilt on the steadfast centre of the world,And waited for the middle hour of night,Now swiftly coming, to convene her court.Set in an ocean of perpetual calmWas the fair island honoured by her reign;Slowly around her rolled the Frigid Zone,Dim in the mystic moonlight far away,—A silvery ring, circling her nearer realmWith the pale lustre of its snowy walls,Defending from all storm and sudden changeThe sea which bathed the island's level shores.She sat upon her throne, and none might tellWhether her limbs the lambent lustre castUpon the pearls of which it was composed,Or they cast beauty on her glowing form.Around her feet a pavement spread, inlaidOf squares of roseate sea-shells, set aboutWith purple gems, unknown in other lands;—Thence, winding paths, sprinkled with golden sand,Ran out, through bowers of flowers and fields of greenTo meet the sea.Low in the South the MoonShone full against the island. The North-star,Sparkling and blazing like a silver sun,Stood at the Zenith, as a lamp hung outFrom heaven to charm the endless Arctic night;—And thus a soft profusion of pure light,More exquisite than sunshine, fell abroad.Unnipped by daintiest frosts, in every fieldFlowers crowded thick; and trees, not tall nor rude,With slender stems upholding feathery shade,Nodded their heads and hung their pliant limbsIn natural bowers, sweet with delicious gloom.QueenOenesent her luminous glance afar:Fine rays of tintless light played round her head,Crowning her beauty with mysterious glory.She gazed away, beyond the tranquil sea,To distant mountains of unchanging snow,And still beyond, to where full many a towerAnd fortress reared their walls of gleaming iceOn the dim verges of her vast domains.Scarcely had she in silence throned herself,Ere from the trees, or flower-coves of the shore,Or gliding in from idling on the sea,Her maids of honor came, a virgin train,Like a bright constellation clustering roundThe central star, most glorious of them all.One, in a crimson blossom, torn awayFrom its far moorings, nestled at her ease,Was seen slowly to skim the silver lake;While the huge flower seemed of itself propelled,Save that, by chance, a flushed and saucy face,Peeped from the waves, showing a little impWho tugged at its stout stem with willful toil.Kolona'slimbs and bosom roseate glowedAs the slant moonlight through the crimson flowerBathed her with blushes; but, when on the strandShe lightly sprang, flinging her tresses back,A southern maiden would have deemed her pale.Too rich for pallor was the polished glowOf her lithe figure; while, in either cheek,The red veins glimmered; dark blue were her eyes;Her tresses, like deep shadows, made more fairThe light which they enhanced, glancing within.The first to touch the white feet of the QueenAnd place herself at her right hand, was she.Others came soon; all bright, all beautiful,With deep blue eyes, and sweet mouths set in smiles.Long chains of jewels rare were, round their necks,Twined many times; these, flickering, rose and fellWith the soft breath their full, graced bosoms drew.From waist to knee of each a tunic droppedIn many folds, woven in changing huesOf birds' gay plumage, and fringed deep with gems,Which they with artless and unenvying pride,Would fain have made, each, most magnificent.They gathered round their Queen, as midnight neared.Suddenly, with the hour, there came a changeOver the moonlight and the courtly scene.Oeneupon the pavement pressed her feet,And out the North-Lights sprang, to do her will,From secret caverns underneath its pearls.O'er all the land she bade them come and go;Each battlemented iceberg on the deepOf other seas, and every snowy hall,And every citadel by frosts upreared,Were lighted with wild splendors, as the troupesOf messengers rushed swiftly to and fro.The people of the Arctics knew their QueenSummoned her subjects to the Presence thenBy wavering tints which played beneath the Star,And the great speed with which the North-Lights flew.They hurried even to the Temperate Zone.A band of phantom spirits took wings and flewFar to the southern sky, a fluttering crowd.A warrior, yellow garbed, with fiery spear,Bestrode a frantic steed, and looked not backTill he alighted on a distant hill.With scintillant flames some perched on towers remoteOr bore green banners o'er the mirroring sea,Or flitted through dim valleys, bright and fast,Casting their flickering shadows down the deepAnd awful solitudes of Arctic lands.Such of her people as had aught to askOf favor or redress, from air and earth,Came now, bringing petitions, councils, gifts.Some slid on twinkling star-beams through the air,Some sailed in shallops over the light waves,And all who came had presents for their Queen,—Rare tints which they had caught just as the MoonPeered o'er the shoulder of the mighty Thug.—Those dwelling in the caverns of the seaBrought up the gayest jewels they could find,And pearls from underneath their low-based bergsDeep in the green waves, that, with thunderous sound,Did lull the giants of the North to sleep.There came, as time rolled by, from the far vergeOf her vast realm, the rugged guardian ghouls,Stationed in fortresses and waging warOn all encroachers from the hated South.These had wild forms and gaunt; their dress was rude—Skins of the white bear fastened to their loins.They bore long, glistening spears, and deadly clubsWrenched from the spines of monsters of the sea.Their gifts were rude as they, and yet their QueenUnbent the radiant quiet of her brow,Gazing with favor on these proofs of valor.Tales of achievements dread, of battles, deaths,Had they to speak, while, with pleased ear intent,Their sovereign listened.One warrior ghoulWith crispy locks and frosty eyes, and breathChiller than death's,—naked, as scorning e'enTo wear the trophies of his fierce renown—Before the Presence stood, and told in haste,—As half impatient of the wish to boast,Yet proud to serve so well—how he was calledWole, guardian of old Thug;—how from the SouthCame, ploughing slowly through the unwilling sea,A ship, crowded with mortals from that land;How, boldly, in defiance of commandsSent out by skirmishing Frosts, they still drew near,Passing the outer line of her domains;Daring to come, with their invading eyes,Where never mortals else had looked and lived.He told,—and here he glanced, upon his friends,Eyes of bright scorn—how the imperious shipPassed safely Tug and Dor, though all the guardsShot barbs of ice, and filled the air with fine,Invisible needles, piercing their pained flesh,And tore their stiffening sails with sharp-teethed winds;How, still, the ship pressed on where He kept watch,Ready to do new service for his Queen:How, as it closer came, he fixed his eyesRelentlessly upon it, till nor hand,Nor foot, nor eyelid of the fated crewHad power to stir, nor even the sails to flap,While banded winds which he sent forth, still droveThe doomed ones onward to the eager shore,Where every soul had perished, one by one."Thou hast done well, oldWole," QueenOenesaid.Stepping a pace in front of her companions,With bashful cheek, but with a kindling eye—"'Tis not for one like me to have a thoughtIn thy rare presence, Queen,"Kolonasaid,—"Yet I would dare to tell thee what I sawOnly a moon ago, when a wild freakPossessed me to go voyaging alone,Across the sea, to find what curious thingsThe other shore might hold. My lily bark,Being too frail for such a venturous cruiseI borrowedGondor'sboat of nautilus' shells,Put up my lua-leaf sail and swiftly spedAcross the ocean, till this level isleGrew smaller than a star. The air grew cold:—I almost shivered in my bird's-down mantle;But when I neared the opposing shore, the sightOf all its snowy scenery, repaid me.Coasting along at leisure, on a cliffWhich overhung the sea, I saw appearA being, whom I knew at once as Man.—One of that mortal race which we have keptForever, since our chronicles began,With war assiduous, from our inner realms,Still undefiled by their invading feet.The choking hurry of my noisy heartTold me the truth. At first I would have fled,But, being unperceived by him, I lingered,—Inquisitive and wilful that I am.Thenceforth, sweet Queen, I never can forgetThe face of this one man which I have seen.Triumph was on his brow, and yet not thatSo much as doubt and earnest questioning.Something arose into his eyes and shoneWhich must have been his Soul; it searched the deep,The earth, the sky, with bright and troubled gaze;And then, glanced forward with so still a look,It seemed that it, perforce, would vanish space,And bring our secret world within its ken;Yet, with no cruelty or wantonness,Such as we hear gleamed from the cunning eyesOf those fierce hordes who, centuries ago,Came in their boats and strove to conquer us.Knowledge was what it craved, with truth it burned;A majesty we cannot name, expressedIts power within his features. Then I feltThat, could I bring him to thy gracious feetHe would reveal to us that mysteryThe dream of which so oft hath troubled us,Breaking upon us, like the light of Heaven,Too high for us to fix its source—that spokeOf an eternal, comprehensive Life,The thought of which doth haunt us. In returnWe could bestow the knowledge which he craved,And link his name with ours through all the earth,Fearless of harm from one who only cravesThe crown of Genius for his soul-lit brow.Almost I rowed my shallop to his feet;Almost I offered to convey him hither,Yet feared so much, O, Queen, thy just displeasure,That I forbore."Long time he, gazing, stood;And when he turned, 'twas with so deep a sighThe sound awakened in me strange regret,Endless reproach, and grief before unknown.Art angry with thy maiden, peerless Queen?"Over the lustrous forehead ofOeneA shadow came, and deepened in her eyes."I might have slain thee both, if thou hadst ventured;For it is part of our ancestral law,The most immutable, to guard ourselves,With our severest powers, from envious Man.Yet, as thou sayest, he might have fed our heartsWith sweet immortal food—aye, given us souls,If such things be,—worth half my priceless realms.No more—no more!Kolona! take thy place!"As a soft flower shrinks from the coming night,Amid protecting leaves,Kolonashrank,Amid her tresses, from her sovereign's eyes,So gloomy yet so kind; and mutely stoodAmid the bright and coyly wondering train.A band of sprites, armed with sharp, silver spears,With pearl-encrusted garb and gleaming sandals,Dwelling low down the land, even amid men,The Queen's advance guard, giving due alarmOf all attacks, taking short flights by night,And reconnoitering the southern world,—Had sent a group to counsel with their Queen.These, now, had much to say of an adventureWhich took them almost to the Tropic Zone:—How they had blighted fruit; and mildews castOver the fields; and blasted flowering trees;Nipping the hopes of gaudy butterflies,Doting on honeyed flowers to fill their mouths;Chilling the saucy birds within their nests;Ruining the rainbow hues of many a garden;Pricking the insect world with their fine spears,And disappointing mortals of their wish.Their somewhat boastful discourse these had ceased,When came in hosts a crowd around the Pole,Parting on each side to make way for one,A stranger, craving audience of their Queen.What saw those weird and piercing eyes, full turnedTo meet the coming throng?—a singular sight,Which filled them with bright anger and surprise!Up from the sea, along a silvery path,A mortal came; her girlish feet the firstThat ever pressed the veritable Pole;And not more strange to her was this wild queen,And all the fairness of these maids of honor,Than was her sunny beauty unto them.The fluttering brightness of her golden hair,The lustrous darkness of her eyes, the warmthOf tropic tints upon her brow and cheek,The dimpled fullness of her form, appearedIn vivid contrast with their fairer charms.She held an offering of gorgeous flowers—Those most renowned for fragrance—in her hands,Which, as she reached the platform, she held forthWith a most winning, most beseeching air.Amazed at such presumption, on the maid,QueenOene's brow darkened in sudden wrath."Warriors! do ye permit this sight!" she cried.The lightest breath of that majestic voiceHad ever been with prompt obedience met;But now, though hoarse and deep as surging sea,No spear was lowered and no arrow bent.The Pole-Queen raised aloft her pale right arm;—She stamped her haughty feet upon the pave,—And all the Powers of the vast Frigid ZoneWere in commotion terrible:—the earthShook till the people reeled, and reeling, fell;The circle of white gems about the throneThrew off strange darts of light which smote like steel:Swift whirling round with inconceivable speedA host of Northern Lights sprang into air,And, battling round their Queen, confused and wild,Blent with each other in the fierce affray.The frightened stars paled in the distant sky;And spectres rushed on shadowy steeds of greyDown the flushed firmament; and shining spears,Held by invisible hands, whirled high o'erhead.Pale mortals in the far off Torrid ZoneSaw wonders in the Northern air with fear;And when an inward trembling shook the PoleCentral through all the earth, in distant landsThe mountains belched forth fire on fated cities.Behind the throne suddenly arose a shower,As 'twere of phosphorescent flakes of snow,Straight upward like a fountain, and then fellIn glowing sparks wide over all the land.The surging sea dashed its bewildered wavesAgainst the foreheads of gigantic bergs,Walking, like drunken men, the noisy deep.Anon thePolewas calm. Uninjured stoodThe mortal maid before the greatOene;While near, a thousand prostrate subjects laySlain by an angry sovereign disobeyed."Queen of this strange and spectral land, wilt thouNot show thy favor to a lonesome childCome wandering all this way, impelled by love?Not hate, ambition, curiosity,Have led me to thy fair and fearful presence.I have no power, am but a weak young girl;And chance, alone, has thus revealed to meThe mystic glory of this unknown world,With thy bright self and this enchanted isle,—This pearl upon the bosom of the deepSo palely, purely fair—undreamed of beauty!Love is the sole excuse which I can urgeFor my intrusion"—here the stranger blushed,Drooping in silence her embarrassed head."Speak on!" imperially the Pole-Queen said,Charmed in her own despite, by that sweet face;WhileLir-lirtoKolonaleaned and smiled,Commending, in a whisper, what she saw:And a soft flutter through the courtly trainStirred, like the shimmer of a moonlit breezeKissing the waves:—"I will thy message hear!"And so the maiden, gathering courage, said:"Far in a blooming isle, in Southern seas,I had a home, whose walls, of marble cool,Were chequered by soft shadows, hovering,Like flocks of birds, about its battlements;For, all around, were trees, whose glistening leavesDanced ever, in the sunlight or the moonlight,To the soft flutes of the Arcadian winds;And to the sleepy music, drowsilyThe gorgeous flowers nodded their lovely heads.Through the bright days, and in my sleep at night,I heard the ripples breaking on the sand,Till their continual murmur grew to beA thing of course,—like sunshine and fresh air,—Or like the love which grew into my life,As color into flowers when they unfold.The fluttering foliage and the sighing wavesSeemed whispering "Bertho!" ever in my ear;ForBerthowas my lover, and my heartCould find no other meaning in their sound.I was a princess of that blooming isle;ButBertho—he was poor! still, not so poorAs brave, high-souled, and strangely venturesome.He trusted to the sea to gain his wealth,As well as knowledge and a manly fame.Ah! how I wept, when told that we must part!How much more bitter tears I shed that dayOn which he left me, wretched, by the shore,Watching the gleam of his receding sails!"Dim grew the golden air from that dark hour.Like some rich flower, torn from the wooing kissOf the warm sun, and hidden in a cell,I drooped, and lost the redness of my cheeks.All the wild thrills that used to come and go,Tumultuous, through my happy heart, and sendThe pulses flying through my frame, died out."And thus in sadness two long summers passed.In madness or in wisdom my poor brainWrought out a vision in my troubled sleep,Through which I saw myBertho, and he badeMy soul be still and fear not,—I should takeMy little boat, in which I used to skirtThe island shores, and loose it on the deep,Placing myself within it:—It would come,By force of an unknown and magic current,(The thought of which, in speculative minds,Had long been cherished,) straightway to the shoreOf the strange country where, enthralled, he dwelt.If I still loved him, this would prove my love!"Straight from my couch I rose, and like a ghostStole through the darkness of my father's halls;Fled to the sea; and in my fragile barkI heaped a few fresh fruits, and bore a vaseFilled with fresh water,—this was all my store.I loosed my shallop from the anchoring rock,And, as it drifted out upon the tide,I leaned upon the single, slender oarWhose aid was all I asked upon the deep.Before my yearning vision lay my home,Fading away from sight as the full tideWent murmuring back from its delightful shores.The loveliest hour of all the twenty-fourCharmed earth and ocean, that eventful time.Moonlight and morning, softly blending, layUpon the land; while down the glassy sea,Far in the distance, slowly stole a bandOf sunrise glories, smiling, looking back,And glowing with warm splendors. All the EastWas crimson with their blushes, and the wavesWhich followed in their bright and stately wayWore crests of gold, and purple-shaded robes.Next came light breezes blowing from the land,Odorous with roses, sweet with drowsy songsOf nightingales, and cool with myrtle leaves,Following down the path the sunrise took.And next, the stars went dimly down the west,Crowd upon crowd, in slow and shining cars,Bright wheeling down their heaven-appointed way."All day the sun shadowed himself in clouds;My cheeks scarce browned beneath his cooled rays.At night I sank contentedly to sleep,Upon the silken cushions of my bark;Then mermaids, who, attracted by my voice,Had floated round me, underneath the waves,Not daring to appear, swam near, reached outTheir arms of glowing white, and touched the boat.Charmed by the helplessness of sleep in me,They chanted sea-hymns, and I, straightway, dreamedOf tinkling fountains in my father's halls,And how my lover sat beside me there,Murmuring his words of love in my thrilled ear.They rocked the bark, too, with their lily hands,As tender mothers rock their cradled babes:And one wild sea-nymph reached and touched my hair—I saw her through my dream!—and one unstrungThe pearls from out her own wave-wetted locks,And flung them by me."The fresh morn waked me;A current, gentle as a musical sound,Swept the boat onward, as by magic power.At times I thought, perchance, the nymphs beneathPropelled it, but when I recalled my dream,I knew some freak of nature, or some law,By me uncomprehended, did the work.At night I heard the naiads, in a toneAs soft as shepherd's reed, sing ocean-songs;And sometimes, in the day, above the waveI for a moment saw a lovely face,Pearled in a clinging mass of shell-wreathed hair,Peering upon me with strange, smiling eyes.Gay fishes, in the sunlight gleaming, swamWith playful fires of evanescent hues;And birds did sometimes rest their weary wingsUpon my shoulder, pecking at the fruitWhich I did share with them, though small my store."Thus on and on continuous days I fled;No wind came now, blowing from flowery shores,At times to startle me with dreams of home;No more bewildering songs rose all the nightAround me; nor familiar faces glancedAn instant from the deep; nor long, fair fingersHung on the gilded prow."The Temperate ZoneHad floated by like a long stream of gold;The Arctics lay before me, vast and drear;The sea was green and rough; no gay fish dartedLike silver arrows from the quivering wave;But monsters, with thick scales and hideous eyes,Looked sullenly up in stupid wonderment,While some swam to'ards me, with rapacious mawsSharp-fanged and bloody, and exulting finsFlapping with demon slowness their huge sides;—And still I passed unhurt."Once round my boatFor many hours an old sea-dragon hovered.His huge folds lay like rainbows on the sea,And his two eyes, like suns, resplendent shone.He seemed to guard thy realm, O, mighty Queen!And, with the cunning power of those large eyes,To awe intruders from thy frozen world.So fearlessly my gaze repelled his ownI charmed this wary dragon of the North;The eyes that erst had sparkled goldenlyWith a malicious and infatuous brightness,Grew lost and dreaming in a vacant splendor;The rainbow lustre of his lengthening foldsFaded to harmless green, till, prone, he lay,A floating dream of dread, upon the deep;Then, with the noiseless current drifting on,I passed your subtle guardian swiftly by;While only one faint sparkle, green and gold,Broke from his sluggish sides as I swept past."The grandeur of your floating towers of iceStole on my sight; the sea rolled rough; the airWas sharp and clear; and yet this delicate robeWas all sufficient to resist its power.Soon, upon every side, I saw tall bergs.A child of fragrant airs and sunny skies,Enervate with the South's soft luxuries,These icebergs burst upon me like a senseNewly received, revealing God anew.While in the distance, calmly floating onThrough the broad sunlight, then I loved to dreamThat they were palaces upreared by gnomes,With glittering towers and silver pinnacles,—That in them were expanded halls of light—Vast chambers—with such gorgeous, fretted roofsAnd shining floors, as wearied human sight;That fountains filled them with a slumberous sound;And curtains, wrought of silver-threaded frost,Were looped with priceless pearls from room to room;—A home for all the spirits of the GoodLost in the pitiless sea,—where they would batheTheir thoughts in heaven's splendor, looking outThe golden windows towards the constant sun,Shining, unceasing, slant against their brows."But, as I nearer drew, I lost that dreamIn one more gloomy. They did seem to shapeThemselves to living giants; lifting highTheir frowning foreheads, crowned with fiery crowns.As lower sank the sun towards the sea,Gloomier did they grow, with their white hairAnd lifted spears, walking with mighty stepsThe creaking floor of the unsteady deep.—Nodding defiantly at one another—Meeting, with crashing spears and splintered shields,With hoarse cries, breast to breast, in angry strife;Their armor shivered at their feet, the seaBroken beneath their tread and shudderingAt the great shock."More thick these terrors grew;Broad fields stretched out in many a frozen ridge;While far beyond were paths of printless snow.The ocean lay behind; and yet my boatMoved ever onward, up a watery isle,Opening, like a deep river, through the ice.A shadowy land spread out on either side,Where, moveless as some black and brooding bird,Night hovered, silent, vast, and wonderful.Thy Heralds, the North-Lights, did startle meInto new wonder by their glowing shapes,Swift rushing down the sky, those phantasms wild,Flushing, and paling in their measureless speed."At length I drifted into a new sea,Where all was calm and warm, and where no towerOf ragged ice upreared itself. On, onI floated, while some lovely fantasySeemed stealing my true sense—so fair the scene.Huge lillies, which no tropic land might boast,Slept on the water—like embodied moonlight;A mellow lustre bathed all things; sweet birdsWith rainbow plumage fluttered through the air,And this fair island dawned upon my sight.Soon on the shore rested my vessel's prow,And I, ascending the bright paths which spreadThrough bowers of wond'rous beauty, came to thee,The central light of all this loveliness.This is my sin, if thou wilt judge it such.But love, the fondest that did ever throbIn the warm heart of any mortal maid,It was, which brought me. It must be, sweet QueenThat somewhere in thy mystical domainsMyBerthodwells. Do'st know him? Is he well?And does he for his fond-eyedOlivelook,With hollow shadows underneath his browsFrom too much watching?"Oeneanswered backThe eager pleading of her glance with oneOf chilly calmness, as she thus replied:—"There isno livingmortal in my realms,Save thou alone, the first who ever came.ThyBertho, from a thousand shades of menWho roam the prisons of our underworld,Pray, how can we distinguish? Would'st thou search?Thou hast the liberty. We will not layThe slightest new obstruction in thy way;And this is mercy which we did not deemWe should extend towards an enemy.We do not comprehend that strange excessOf passion which hath made thee venture here.But love, at least, is harmless. Go thy ways."The innocent maidens, gathered round their Queen,Looked on with interest, as the southern girlTurned with a mute and trembling lip, away.Tula, who onKolona'sshoulder leaned,Sprang towards her, reaching forth a friendly hand,Whispering,—"Stay, beautiful, and sup with us;Our servant spirits have already spreadThe Feast of Borealis in the field,"But,Oliveshook her head, denying smilesDeep in her wistful eyes, and went her way.Court being ended, from her regal throneOenedescended, passed the glowing steps,And, like a star that walks the path of heavenWith a long train of light, she and her maidsGlided in lustrous beauty down the way,And gathered to the Feast.Above the field,Hedged round with lillies growing tall and fair,The North-Lights clustered in a coronal,And each held forth a lamp, in the still air,Of purple, blue or green, crimson or rose,Whose flickering splendors, like soft rainbows, fellUpon the table, spread with fruits heaped highOn plates of delicate, transparent shells;While many a dainty, gathered from the seaMade more profuse the viands.When round the boardThe guests had circled, e'er one ruby dropOf liquid passed their lips, or food was touched,The Virgins of the Court, in voices flowing,Did sing this song in honor of the Feast,While with a silent and a magical grace,The North-Lights danced, and waved their flaming lamps:Lueladar!O mighty Star!The flying meteors backward glanceOn thee to gaze,And bright auroras softly danceIn mutest praise;And, to and fro,With motion slowWave the lamps whence colors flow.From every chrystal spireFlames forth thy silver fire;And glimmering wave, and rugged tower,And valley snow, and island flower,And the smooth ice, spread near and farThy mirrors are, Lueladar!Lueladar!Supremest Star!The moon goes down beneath the world—She lives to die!The banners of the stars are furled,The comets fly;The red sun shines,And still declines,And after him the darkness pines;But thou art e'er the same—No flickering of thy flame—No sinking down in time to riseDoth change thy splendor in the skies:For this we worship thee, afar,Most glorious Star, Lueladar!Lueladar!Eternal Star!Look with thy bright and burning eyeUpon our feast!Thy silver robes flow o'er the skyOur great High Priest!Our world doth wearThy livery fairFrom sparkling mount to jewel rare;And every lightest flakeThat drops into the lake;And all the solemn beauty spreadAcross the land, by thee is shed:—Most magical thy influences areThou wond'rous Star, Lueladar!PART SECOND.Olivehad crossed the mystic sea again,Which spread its silver circle round the Pole.Her feet were weary and her thoughts were sad.Immeasurably tall the icy Thug,—That wond'rous mountain of whose old renownThe Arctic world thought with exalted hearts—Stood in her path and seemed to bar her way.Four months of darkness in the valley slept,Freezing in silent dreams; the Moon did crownThe hoary brow of the old headland, Thug,With a dim glory, as of silver locks:—It held its head aloft and seemed to bePeering through heaven's roof upon its God."Ah,Bertho! Bertho!" the young traveller cried,While rapid tears ran down her grief-touched cheeks:—"Is there no way save this? My feet refuseTo do the bidding of my heart; no moreThis faithful bosom thy delight shall be—No more thine eyes shall smile into mine ownTill both swim full of bliss—no more thy mouthBreathe its soft words and kisses on my cheek,Naming me thine—thine only—thine forever!Where art thou,Bertho? Bertho!Cruel Thug;Sink thyself in the sea, presumptuous mount,Till I can pluck my lover from thy breast!"The echo of her heart did mock her cry;Long time, she lay, half perished, on the snow,Till love revived, with its eternal fires,The warmth of purpose in her chilly breast;Then, springing to her feet, she shook her curls,In golden billows from her brows, the whileThat a sweet resoluteness on her lipSettled itself, and triumphed in her eyes:—"Torrent nor precipice, nor jutting crag—Night, spirits, ghouls, nor ravenous wild beasts,Distance, nor time, shall fright me from the way,"She said, and silently began to climb,Though avalanches roared from steep to steepAnd fear increased with every perilous step.The Moon alone was kind to the poor child,Shedding its softest lustre round her feet.Near half way up the mount she may have passedWhen a fierce growl smote on her frightened ear,As, from the shadows bounding, came a beast,Grizzly, ferocious, snapping its sharp tusks:—So close it came she felt the hungry breathRushing in fiery vapor from its mouth,She sprang aside, then fled; but steep the path,And sinking fainting, to the ground, she sighed—"This is the last!Bertho!Ah, me! farewell!""Nay, not the last! thou'rt not dead yet, my dear!Look up, thou fairy, or thou mortal child—I scarce know which—assure thyself of life.Look up! look up! It cannot be I seeBefore me, in this region of dispair,A veritable mortal?"By his voiceRecalled to life, the trembling girl arose.Before her stood a man; and in his handA spear that dripped with her pursuer's blood.With still unconquered terror of the bruteShe turned her head."Fear nothing, thou sweet child;But if thou art what now thou dost appear,A creature of that world from whence I come,Let me but hear thy voice—but hear one wordOf my blest country's language, and I'll deemThe service I have done thee with this spearNaught in comparison. Speak, quickly speak!""What shall I say, but thank thee for my life?I am a maiden from far Southern climesCome searching for my lover. Dost thou knowWhere cruelOenehast myBerthohidden?What do'estthouhere? It must be thou art comeIn search of wife or child,—what other fateCould lead thee to such barren heights as these?""Alas! dear child! there are other springs than loveTo move the human heart. Ambition, may be;Or better, a desire to serve my QueenAnd my illustrious country, led me here."He paused and sighed. She saw his locks were thin;Some white with years, but more with troubled toil;And that he stood barefooted in the snow.The pitying tears began within her eyesTo gather into brightness as she gazed,Upon the grey, sublime, forlorn old man.Coldly the moonlight glinted o'er the groupRegarding each the other with surprise:—She, sad at his abandonment of hope;He, struck with mingled wonder and delightTo meet this woman, beautiful and young.
Oene, of all the chilly Arctics, queen,Ascended to her everlasting throneBuilt on the steadfast centre of the world,And waited for the middle hour of night,Now swiftly coming, to convene her court.Set in an ocean of perpetual calmWas the fair island honoured by her reign;Slowly around her rolled the Frigid Zone,Dim in the mystic moonlight far away,—A silvery ring, circling her nearer realmWith the pale lustre of its snowy walls,Defending from all storm and sudden changeThe sea which bathed the island's level shores.She sat upon her throne, and none might tellWhether her limbs the lambent lustre castUpon the pearls of which it was composed,Or they cast beauty on her glowing form.Around her feet a pavement spread, inlaidOf squares of roseate sea-shells, set aboutWith purple gems, unknown in other lands;—Thence, winding paths, sprinkled with golden sand,Ran out, through bowers of flowers and fields of greenTo meet the sea.
Low in the South the MoonShone full against the island. The North-star,Sparkling and blazing like a silver sun,Stood at the Zenith, as a lamp hung outFrom heaven to charm the endless Arctic night;—And thus a soft profusion of pure light,More exquisite than sunshine, fell abroad.Unnipped by daintiest frosts, in every fieldFlowers crowded thick; and trees, not tall nor rude,With slender stems upholding feathery shade,Nodded their heads and hung their pliant limbsIn natural bowers, sweet with delicious gloom.
QueenOenesent her luminous glance afar:Fine rays of tintless light played round her head,Crowning her beauty with mysterious glory.She gazed away, beyond the tranquil sea,To distant mountains of unchanging snow,And still beyond, to where full many a towerAnd fortress reared their walls of gleaming iceOn the dim verges of her vast domains.
Scarcely had she in silence throned herself,Ere from the trees, or flower-coves of the shore,Or gliding in from idling on the sea,Her maids of honor came, a virgin train,Like a bright constellation clustering roundThe central star, most glorious of them all.One, in a crimson blossom, torn awayFrom its far moorings, nestled at her ease,Was seen slowly to skim the silver lake;While the huge flower seemed of itself propelled,Save that, by chance, a flushed and saucy face,Peeped from the waves, showing a little impWho tugged at its stout stem with willful toil.Kolona'slimbs and bosom roseate glowedAs the slant moonlight through the crimson flowerBathed her with blushes; but, when on the strandShe lightly sprang, flinging her tresses back,A southern maiden would have deemed her pale.Too rich for pallor was the polished glowOf her lithe figure; while, in either cheek,The red veins glimmered; dark blue were her eyes;Her tresses, like deep shadows, made more fairThe light which they enhanced, glancing within.
The first to touch the white feet of the QueenAnd place herself at her right hand, was she.Others came soon; all bright, all beautiful,With deep blue eyes, and sweet mouths set in smiles.Long chains of jewels rare were, round their necks,Twined many times; these, flickering, rose and fellWith the soft breath their full, graced bosoms drew.From waist to knee of each a tunic droppedIn many folds, woven in changing huesOf birds' gay plumage, and fringed deep with gems,Which they with artless and unenvying pride,Would fain have made, each, most magnificent.
They gathered round their Queen, as midnight neared.Suddenly, with the hour, there came a changeOver the moonlight and the courtly scene.Oeneupon the pavement pressed her feet,And out the North-Lights sprang, to do her will,From secret caverns underneath its pearls.O'er all the land she bade them come and go;Each battlemented iceberg on the deepOf other seas, and every snowy hall,And every citadel by frosts upreared,Were lighted with wild splendors, as the troupesOf messengers rushed swiftly to and fro.The people of the Arctics knew their QueenSummoned her subjects to the Presence thenBy wavering tints which played beneath the Star,And the great speed with which the North-Lights flew.They hurried even to the Temperate Zone.A band of phantom spirits took wings and flewFar to the southern sky, a fluttering crowd.A warrior, yellow garbed, with fiery spear,Bestrode a frantic steed, and looked not backTill he alighted on a distant hill.With scintillant flames some perched on towers remoteOr bore green banners o'er the mirroring sea,Or flitted through dim valleys, bright and fast,Casting their flickering shadows down the deepAnd awful solitudes of Arctic lands.
Such of her people as had aught to askOf favor or redress, from air and earth,Came now, bringing petitions, councils, gifts.Some slid on twinkling star-beams through the air,Some sailed in shallops over the light waves,And all who came had presents for their Queen,—Rare tints which they had caught just as the MoonPeered o'er the shoulder of the mighty Thug.—Those dwelling in the caverns of the seaBrought up the gayest jewels they could find,And pearls from underneath their low-based bergsDeep in the green waves, that, with thunderous sound,Did lull the giants of the North to sleep.
There came, as time rolled by, from the far vergeOf her vast realm, the rugged guardian ghouls,Stationed in fortresses and waging warOn all encroachers from the hated South.These had wild forms and gaunt; their dress was rude—Skins of the white bear fastened to their loins.They bore long, glistening spears, and deadly clubsWrenched from the spines of monsters of the sea.Their gifts were rude as they, and yet their QueenUnbent the radiant quiet of her brow,Gazing with favor on these proofs of valor.Tales of achievements dread, of battles, deaths,Had they to speak, while, with pleased ear intent,Their sovereign listened.
One warrior ghoulWith crispy locks and frosty eyes, and breathChiller than death's,—naked, as scorning e'enTo wear the trophies of his fierce renown—Before the Presence stood, and told in haste,—As half impatient of the wish to boast,Yet proud to serve so well—how he was calledWole, guardian of old Thug;—how from the SouthCame, ploughing slowly through the unwilling sea,A ship, crowded with mortals from that land;How, boldly, in defiance of commandsSent out by skirmishing Frosts, they still drew near,Passing the outer line of her domains;Daring to come, with their invading eyes,Where never mortals else had looked and lived.He told,—and here he glanced, upon his friends,Eyes of bright scorn—how the imperious shipPassed safely Tug and Dor, though all the guardsShot barbs of ice, and filled the air with fine,Invisible needles, piercing their pained flesh,And tore their stiffening sails with sharp-teethed winds;How, still, the ship pressed on where He kept watch,Ready to do new service for his Queen:How, as it closer came, he fixed his eyesRelentlessly upon it, till nor hand,Nor foot, nor eyelid of the fated crewHad power to stir, nor even the sails to flap,While banded winds which he sent forth, still droveThe doomed ones onward to the eager shore,Where every soul had perished, one by one.
"Thou hast done well, oldWole," QueenOenesaid.
Stepping a pace in front of her companions,With bashful cheek, but with a kindling eye—"'Tis not for one like me to have a thoughtIn thy rare presence, Queen,"Kolonasaid,—"Yet I would dare to tell thee what I sawOnly a moon ago, when a wild freakPossessed me to go voyaging alone,Across the sea, to find what curious thingsThe other shore might hold. My lily bark,Being too frail for such a venturous cruiseI borrowedGondor'sboat of nautilus' shells,Put up my lua-leaf sail and swiftly spedAcross the ocean, till this level isleGrew smaller than a star. The air grew cold:—I almost shivered in my bird's-down mantle;But when I neared the opposing shore, the sightOf all its snowy scenery, repaid me.Coasting along at leisure, on a cliffWhich overhung the sea, I saw appearA being, whom I knew at once as Man.—One of that mortal race which we have keptForever, since our chronicles began,With war assiduous, from our inner realms,Still undefiled by their invading feet.The choking hurry of my noisy heartTold me the truth. At first I would have fled,But, being unperceived by him, I lingered,—Inquisitive and wilful that I am.Thenceforth, sweet Queen, I never can forgetThe face of this one man which I have seen.Triumph was on his brow, and yet not thatSo much as doubt and earnest questioning.Something arose into his eyes and shoneWhich must have been his Soul; it searched the deep,The earth, the sky, with bright and troubled gaze;And then, glanced forward with so still a look,It seemed that it, perforce, would vanish space,And bring our secret world within its ken;Yet, with no cruelty or wantonness,Such as we hear gleamed from the cunning eyesOf those fierce hordes who, centuries ago,Came in their boats and strove to conquer us.Knowledge was what it craved, with truth it burned;A majesty we cannot name, expressedIts power within his features. Then I feltThat, could I bring him to thy gracious feetHe would reveal to us that mysteryThe dream of which so oft hath troubled us,Breaking upon us, like the light of Heaven,Too high for us to fix its source—that spokeOf an eternal, comprehensive Life,The thought of which doth haunt us. In returnWe could bestow the knowledge which he craved,And link his name with ours through all the earth,Fearless of harm from one who only cravesThe crown of Genius for his soul-lit brow.Almost I rowed my shallop to his feet;Almost I offered to convey him hither,Yet feared so much, O, Queen, thy just displeasure,That I forbore.
"Long time he, gazing, stood;And when he turned, 'twas with so deep a sighThe sound awakened in me strange regret,Endless reproach, and grief before unknown.Art angry with thy maiden, peerless Queen?"
Over the lustrous forehead ofOeneA shadow came, and deepened in her eyes.
"I might have slain thee both, if thou hadst ventured;For it is part of our ancestral law,The most immutable, to guard ourselves,With our severest powers, from envious Man.Yet, as thou sayest, he might have fed our heartsWith sweet immortal food—aye, given us souls,If such things be,—worth half my priceless realms.No more—no more!Kolona! take thy place!"
As a soft flower shrinks from the coming night,Amid protecting leaves,Kolonashrank,Amid her tresses, from her sovereign's eyes,So gloomy yet so kind; and mutely stoodAmid the bright and coyly wondering train.
A band of sprites, armed with sharp, silver spears,With pearl-encrusted garb and gleaming sandals,Dwelling low down the land, even amid men,The Queen's advance guard, giving due alarmOf all attacks, taking short flights by night,And reconnoitering the southern world,—Had sent a group to counsel with their Queen.These, now, had much to say of an adventureWhich took them almost to the Tropic Zone:—How they had blighted fruit; and mildews castOver the fields; and blasted flowering trees;Nipping the hopes of gaudy butterflies,Doting on honeyed flowers to fill their mouths;Chilling the saucy birds within their nests;Ruining the rainbow hues of many a garden;Pricking the insect world with their fine spears,And disappointing mortals of their wish.
Their somewhat boastful discourse these had ceased,When came in hosts a crowd around the Pole,Parting on each side to make way for one,A stranger, craving audience of their Queen.What saw those weird and piercing eyes, full turnedTo meet the coming throng?—a singular sight,Which filled them with bright anger and surprise!Up from the sea, along a silvery path,A mortal came; her girlish feet the firstThat ever pressed the veritable Pole;And not more strange to her was this wild queen,And all the fairness of these maids of honor,Than was her sunny beauty unto them.The fluttering brightness of her golden hair,The lustrous darkness of her eyes, the warmthOf tropic tints upon her brow and cheek,The dimpled fullness of her form, appearedIn vivid contrast with their fairer charms.She held an offering of gorgeous flowers—Those most renowned for fragrance—in her hands,Which, as she reached the platform, she held forthWith a most winning, most beseeching air.Amazed at such presumption, on the maid,QueenOene's brow darkened in sudden wrath.
"Warriors! do ye permit this sight!" she cried.
The lightest breath of that majestic voiceHad ever been with prompt obedience met;But now, though hoarse and deep as surging sea,No spear was lowered and no arrow bent.The Pole-Queen raised aloft her pale right arm;—She stamped her haughty feet upon the pave,—And all the Powers of the vast Frigid ZoneWere in commotion terrible:—the earthShook till the people reeled, and reeling, fell;The circle of white gems about the throneThrew off strange darts of light which smote like steel:Swift whirling round with inconceivable speedA host of Northern Lights sprang into air,And, battling round their Queen, confused and wild,Blent with each other in the fierce affray.The frightened stars paled in the distant sky;And spectres rushed on shadowy steeds of greyDown the flushed firmament; and shining spears,Held by invisible hands, whirled high o'erhead.Pale mortals in the far off Torrid ZoneSaw wonders in the Northern air with fear;And when an inward trembling shook the PoleCentral through all the earth, in distant landsThe mountains belched forth fire on fated cities.
Behind the throne suddenly arose a shower,As 'twere of phosphorescent flakes of snow,Straight upward like a fountain, and then fellIn glowing sparks wide over all the land.The surging sea dashed its bewildered wavesAgainst the foreheads of gigantic bergs,Walking, like drunken men, the noisy deep.Anon thePolewas calm. Uninjured stoodThe mortal maid before the greatOene;While near, a thousand prostrate subjects laySlain by an angry sovereign disobeyed.
"Queen of this strange and spectral land, wilt thouNot show thy favor to a lonesome childCome wandering all this way, impelled by love?Not hate, ambition, curiosity,Have led me to thy fair and fearful presence.I have no power, am but a weak young girl;And chance, alone, has thus revealed to meThe mystic glory of this unknown world,With thy bright self and this enchanted isle,—This pearl upon the bosom of the deepSo palely, purely fair—undreamed of beauty!Love is the sole excuse which I can urgeFor my intrusion"—here the stranger blushed,Drooping in silence her embarrassed head.
"Speak on!" imperially the Pole-Queen said,Charmed in her own despite, by that sweet face;WhileLir-lirtoKolonaleaned and smiled,Commending, in a whisper, what she saw:And a soft flutter through the courtly trainStirred, like the shimmer of a moonlit breezeKissing the waves:—"I will thy message hear!"
And so the maiden, gathering courage, said:"Far in a blooming isle, in Southern seas,I had a home, whose walls, of marble cool,Were chequered by soft shadows, hovering,Like flocks of birds, about its battlements;For, all around, were trees, whose glistening leavesDanced ever, in the sunlight or the moonlight,To the soft flutes of the Arcadian winds;And to the sleepy music, drowsilyThe gorgeous flowers nodded their lovely heads.Through the bright days, and in my sleep at night,I heard the ripples breaking on the sand,Till their continual murmur grew to beA thing of course,—like sunshine and fresh air,—Or like the love which grew into my life,As color into flowers when they unfold.The fluttering foliage and the sighing wavesSeemed whispering "Bertho!" ever in my ear;ForBerthowas my lover, and my heartCould find no other meaning in their sound.I was a princess of that blooming isle;ButBertho—he was poor! still, not so poorAs brave, high-souled, and strangely venturesome.He trusted to the sea to gain his wealth,As well as knowledge and a manly fame.Ah! how I wept, when told that we must part!How much more bitter tears I shed that dayOn which he left me, wretched, by the shore,Watching the gleam of his receding sails!
"Dim grew the golden air from that dark hour.Like some rich flower, torn from the wooing kissOf the warm sun, and hidden in a cell,I drooped, and lost the redness of my cheeks.All the wild thrills that used to come and go,Tumultuous, through my happy heart, and sendThe pulses flying through my frame, died out.
"And thus in sadness two long summers passed.In madness or in wisdom my poor brainWrought out a vision in my troubled sleep,Through which I saw myBertho, and he badeMy soul be still and fear not,—I should takeMy little boat, in which I used to skirtThe island shores, and loose it on the deep,Placing myself within it:—It would come,By force of an unknown and magic current,(The thought of which, in speculative minds,Had long been cherished,) straightway to the shoreOf the strange country where, enthralled, he dwelt.If I still loved him, this would prove my love!
"Straight from my couch I rose, and like a ghostStole through the darkness of my father's halls;Fled to the sea; and in my fragile barkI heaped a few fresh fruits, and bore a vaseFilled with fresh water,—this was all my store.I loosed my shallop from the anchoring rock,And, as it drifted out upon the tide,I leaned upon the single, slender oarWhose aid was all I asked upon the deep.Before my yearning vision lay my home,Fading away from sight as the full tideWent murmuring back from its delightful shores.The loveliest hour of all the twenty-fourCharmed earth and ocean, that eventful time.Moonlight and morning, softly blending, layUpon the land; while down the glassy sea,Far in the distance, slowly stole a bandOf sunrise glories, smiling, looking back,And glowing with warm splendors. All the EastWas crimson with their blushes, and the wavesWhich followed in their bright and stately wayWore crests of gold, and purple-shaded robes.Next came light breezes blowing from the land,Odorous with roses, sweet with drowsy songsOf nightingales, and cool with myrtle leaves,Following down the path the sunrise took.And next, the stars went dimly down the west,Crowd upon crowd, in slow and shining cars,Bright wheeling down their heaven-appointed way.
"All day the sun shadowed himself in clouds;My cheeks scarce browned beneath his cooled rays.At night I sank contentedly to sleep,Upon the silken cushions of my bark;Then mermaids, who, attracted by my voice,Had floated round me, underneath the waves,Not daring to appear, swam near, reached outTheir arms of glowing white, and touched the boat.Charmed by the helplessness of sleep in me,They chanted sea-hymns, and I, straightway, dreamedOf tinkling fountains in my father's halls,And how my lover sat beside me there,Murmuring his words of love in my thrilled ear.They rocked the bark, too, with their lily hands,As tender mothers rock their cradled babes:And one wild sea-nymph reached and touched my hair—I saw her through my dream!—and one unstrungThe pearls from out her own wave-wetted locks,And flung them by me.
"The fresh morn waked me;A current, gentle as a musical sound,Swept the boat onward, as by magic power.At times I thought, perchance, the nymphs beneathPropelled it, but when I recalled my dream,I knew some freak of nature, or some law,By me uncomprehended, did the work.At night I heard the naiads, in a toneAs soft as shepherd's reed, sing ocean-songs;And sometimes, in the day, above the waveI for a moment saw a lovely face,Pearled in a clinging mass of shell-wreathed hair,Peering upon me with strange, smiling eyes.Gay fishes, in the sunlight gleaming, swamWith playful fires of evanescent hues;And birds did sometimes rest their weary wingsUpon my shoulder, pecking at the fruitWhich I did share with them, though small my store.
"Thus on and on continuous days I fled;No wind came now, blowing from flowery shores,At times to startle me with dreams of home;No more bewildering songs rose all the nightAround me; nor familiar faces glancedAn instant from the deep; nor long, fair fingersHung on the gilded prow.
"The Temperate ZoneHad floated by like a long stream of gold;The Arctics lay before me, vast and drear;The sea was green and rough; no gay fish dartedLike silver arrows from the quivering wave;But monsters, with thick scales and hideous eyes,Looked sullenly up in stupid wonderment,While some swam to'ards me, with rapacious mawsSharp-fanged and bloody, and exulting finsFlapping with demon slowness their huge sides;—And still I passed unhurt.
"Once round my boatFor many hours an old sea-dragon hovered.His huge folds lay like rainbows on the sea,And his two eyes, like suns, resplendent shone.He seemed to guard thy realm, O, mighty Queen!And, with the cunning power of those large eyes,To awe intruders from thy frozen world.So fearlessly my gaze repelled his ownI charmed this wary dragon of the North;The eyes that erst had sparkled goldenlyWith a malicious and infatuous brightness,Grew lost and dreaming in a vacant splendor;The rainbow lustre of his lengthening foldsFaded to harmless green, till, prone, he lay,A floating dream of dread, upon the deep;Then, with the noiseless current drifting on,I passed your subtle guardian swiftly by;While only one faint sparkle, green and gold,Broke from his sluggish sides as I swept past.
"The grandeur of your floating towers of iceStole on my sight; the sea rolled rough; the airWas sharp and clear; and yet this delicate robeWas all sufficient to resist its power.Soon, upon every side, I saw tall bergs.A child of fragrant airs and sunny skies,Enervate with the South's soft luxuries,These icebergs burst upon me like a senseNewly received, revealing God anew.While in the distance, calmly floating onThrough the broad sunlight, then I loved to dreamThat they were palaces upreared by gnomes,With glittering towers and silver pinnacles,—That in them were expanded halls of light—Vast chambers—with such gorgeous, fretted roofsAnd shining floors, as wearied human sight;That fountains filled them with a slumberous sound;And curtains, wrought of silver-threaded frost,Were looped with priceless pearls from room to room;—A home for all the spirits of the GoodLost in the pitiless sea,—where they would batheTheir thoughts in heaven's splendor, looking outThe golden windows towards the constant sun,Shining, unceasing, slant against their brows.
"But, as I nearer drew, I lost that dreamIn one more gloomy. They did seem to shapeThemselves to living giants; lifting highTheir frowning foreheads, crowned with fiery crowns.As lower sank the sun towards the sea,Gloomier did they grow, with their white hairAnd lifted spears, walking with mighty stepsThe creaking floor of the unsteady deep.—Nodding defiantly at one another—Meeting, with crashing spears and splintered shields,With hoarse cries, breast to breast, in angry strife;Their armor shivered at their feet, the seaBroken beneath their tread and shudderingAt the great shock.
"More thick these terrors grew;Broad fields stretched out in many a frozen ridge;While far beyond were paths of printless snow.The ocean lay behind; and yet my boatMoved ever onward, up a watery isle,Opening, like a deep river, through the ice.A shadowy land spread out on either side,Where, moveless as some black and brooding bird,Night hovered, silent, vast, and wonderful.Thy Heralds, the North-Lights, did startle meInto new wonder by their glowing shapes,Swift rushing down the sky, those phantasms wild,Flushing, and paling in their measureless speed.
"At length I drifted into a new sea,Where all was calm and warm, and where no towerOf ragged ice upreared itself. On, onI floated, while some lovely fantasySeemed stealing my true sense—so fair the scene.Huge lillies, which no tropic land might boast,Slept on the water—like embodied moonlight;A mellow lustre bathed all things; sweet birdsWith rainbow plumage fluttered through the air,And this fair island dawned upon my sight.Soon on the shore rested my vessel's prow,And I, ascending the bright paths which spreadThrough bowers of wond'rous beauty, came to thee,The central light of all this loveliness.This is my sin, if thou wilt judge it such.But love, the fondest that did ever throbIn the warm heart of any mortal maid,It was, which brought me. It must be, sweet QueenThat somewhere in thy mystical domainsMyBerthodwells. Do'st know him? Is he well?And does he for his fond-eyedOlivelook,With hollow shadows underneath his browsFrom too much watching?"
Oeneanswered backThe eager pleading of her glance with oneOf chilly calmness, as she thus replied:—
"There isno livingmortal in my realms,Save thou alone, the first who ever came.ThyBertho, from a thousand shades of menWho roam the prisons of our underworld,Pray, how can we distinguish? Would'st thou search?Thou hast the liberty. We will not layThe slightest new obstruction in thy way;And this is mercy which we did not deemWe should extend towards an enemy.We do not comprehend that strange excessOf passion which hath made thee venture here.But love, at least, is harmless. Go thy ways."The innocent maidens, gathered round their Queen,Looked on with interest, as the southern girlTurned with a mute and trembling lip, away.Tula, who onKolona'sshoulder leaned,Sprang towards her, reaching forth a friendly hand,Whispering,—"Stay, beautiful, and sup with us;Our servant spirits have already spreadThe Feast of Borealis in the field,"But,Oliveshook her head, denying smilesDeep in her wistful eyes, and went her way.
Court being ended, from her regal throneOenedescended, passed the glowing steps,And, like a star that walks the path of heavenWith a long train of light, she and her maidsGlided in lustrous beauty down the way,And gathered to the Feast.
Above the field,Hedged round with lillies growing tall and fair,The North-Lights clustered in a coronal,And each held forth a lamp, in the still air,Of purple, blue or green, crimson or rose,Whose flickering splendors, like soft rainbows, fellUpon the table, spread with fruits heaped highOn plates of delicate, transparent shells;While many a dainty, gathered from the seaMade more profuse the viands.
When round the boardThe guests had circled, e'er one ruby dropOf liquid passed their lips, or food was touched,The Virgins of the Court, in voices flowing,Did sing this song in honor of the Feast,While with a silent and a magical grace,The North-Lights danced, and waved their flaming lamps:
Lueladar!O mighty Star!The flying meteors backward glanceOn thee to gaze,And bright auroras softly danceIn mutest praise;And, to and fro,With motion slowWave the lamps whence colors flow.From every chrystal spireFlames forth thy silver fire;And glimmering wave, and rugged tower,And valley snow, and island flower,And the smooth ice, spread near and farThy mirrors are, Lueladar!
Lueladar!Supremest Star!The moon goes down beneath the world—She lives to die!The banners of the stars are furled,The comets fly;The red sun shines,And still declines,And after him the darkness pines;But thou art e'er the same—No flickering of thy flame—No sinking down in time to riseDoth change thy splendor in the skies:For this we worship thee, afar,Most glorious Star, Lueladar!
Lueladar!Eternal Star!Look with thy bright and burning eyeUpon our feast!Thy silver robes flow o'er the skyOur great High Priest!Our world doth wearThy livery fairFrom sparkling mount to jewel rare;And every lightest flakeThat drops into the lake;And all the solemn beauty spreadAcross the land, by thee is shed:—Most magical thy influences areThou wond'rous Star, Lueladar!
Olivehad crossed the mystic sea again,Which spread its silver circle round the Pole.Her feet were weary and her thoughts were sad.Immeasurably tall the icy Thug,—That wond'rous mountain of whose old renownThe Arctic world thought with exalted hearts—Stood in her path and seemed to bar her way.Four months of darkness in the valley slept,Freezing in silent dreams; the Moon did crownThe hoary brow of the old headland, Thug,With a dim glory, as of silver locks:—It held its head aloft and seemed to bePeering through heaven's roof upon its God.
"Ah,Bertho! Bertho!" the young traveller cried,While rapid tears ran down her grief-touched cheeks:—"Is there no way save this? My feet refuseTo do the bidding of my heart; no moreThis faithful bosom thy delight shall be—No more thine eyes shall smile into mine ownTill both swim full of bliss—no more thy mouthBreathe its soft words and kisses on my cheek,Naming me thine—thine only—thine forever!Where art thou,Bertho? Bertho!Cruel Thug;Sink thyself in the sea, presumptuous mount,Till I can pluck my lover from thy breast!"The echo of her heart did mock her cry;Long time, she lay, half perished, on the snow,Till love revived, with its eternal fires,The warmth of purpose in her chilly breast;Then, springing to her feet, she shook her curls,In golden billows from her brows, the whileThat a sweet resoluteness on her lipSettled itself, and triumphed in her eyes:—"Torrent nor precipice, nor jutting crag—Night, spirits, ghouls, nor ravenous wild beasts,Distance, nor time, shall fright me from the way,"She said, and silently began to climb,Though avalanches roared from steep to steepAnd fear increased with every perilous step.The Moon alone was kind to the poor child,Shedding its softest lustre round her feet.Near half way up the mount she may have passedWhen a fierce growl smote on her frightened ear,As, from the shadows bounding, came a beast,Grizzly, ferocious, snapping its sharp tusks:—So close it came she felt the hungry breathRushing in fiery vapor from its mouth,She sprang aside, then fled; but steep the path,And sinking fainting, to the ground, she sighed—"This is the last!Bertho!Ah, me! farewell!"
"Nay, not the last! thou'rt not dead yet, my dear!Look up, thou fairy, or thou mortal child—I scarce know which—assure thyself of life.Look up! look up! It cannot be I seeBefore me, in this region of dispair,A veritable mortal?"
By his voiceRecalled to life, the trembling girl arose.Before her stood a man; and in his handA spear that dripped with her pursuer's blood.With still unconquered terror of the bruteShe turned her head.
"Fear nothing, thou sweet child;But if thou art what now thou dost appear,A creature of that world from whence I come,Let me but hear thy voice—but hear one wordOf my blest country's language, and I'll deemThe service I have done thee with this spearNaught in comparison. Speak, quickly speak!"
"What shall I say, but thank thee for my life?I am a maiden from far Southern climesCome searching for my lover. Dost thou knowWhere cruelOenehast myBerthohidden?What do'estthouhere? It must be thou art comeIn search of wife or child,—what other fateCould lead thee to such barren heights as these?"
"Alas! dear child! there are other springs than loveTo move the human heart. Ambition, may be;Or better, a desire to serve my QueenAnd my illustrious country, led me here."
He paused and sighed. She saw his locks were thin;Some white with years, but more with troubled toil;And that he stood barefooted in the snow.The pitying tears began within her eyesTo gather into brightness as she gazed,Upon the grey, sublime, forlorn old man.Coldly the moonlight glinted o'er the groupRegarding each the other with surprise:—She, sad at his abandonment of hope;He, struck with mingled wonder and delightTo meet this woman, beautiful and young.