Chapter 2
"The grandeur of your floating towers of ice Stole on my sight; the sea rolled rough; the air Was sharp and clear; and yet this delicate robe Was 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 sense Newly received, revealing God anew. While in the distance, calmly floating on Through the broad sunlight, then I loved to dream That 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 roofs And 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 Good Lost in the pitiless sea,--where they would bathe Their thoughts in heaven's splendor, looking out The golden windows towards the constant sun, Shining, unceasing, slant against their brows.
"But, as I nearer drew, I lost that dream In one more gloomy. They did seem to shape Themselves to living giants; lifting high Their frowning foreheads, crowned with fiery crowns. As lower sank the sun towards the sea, Gloomier did they grow, with their white hair And lifted spears, walking with mighty steps The 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 sea Broken beneath their tread and shuddering At 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 boat Moved 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 me Into 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 tower Of ragged ice upreared itself. On, on I floated, while some lovely fantasy Seemed 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 birds With 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 spread Through 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 throb In the warm heart of any mortal maid, It was, which brought me. It must be, sweet Queen That somewhere in thy mystical domains My BERTHO dwells. Do'st know him? Is he well? And does he for his fond-eyed OLIVE look, With hollow shadows underneath his brows From too much watching?"
OENE answered back The eager pleading of her glance with one Of chilly calmness, as she thus replied:--
"There is _no living_ mortal in my realms, Save thou alone, the first who ever came. Thy BERTHO, from a thousand shades of men Who roam the prisons of our underworld, Pray, how can we distinguish? Would'st thou search? Thou hast the liberty. We will not lay The slightest new obstruction in thy way; And this is mercy which we did not deem We should extend towards an enemy. We do not comprehend that strange excess Of 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 girl Turned with a mute and trembling lip, away. TULA, who on KOLONA's shoulder leaned, Sprang towards her, reaching forth a friendly hand, Whispering,--"Stay, beautiful, and sup with us; Our servant spirits have already spread The Feast of Borealis in the field," But, OLIVE shook her head, denying smiles Deep in her wistful eyes, and went her way.
Court being ended, from her regal throne OENE descended, passed the glowing steps, And, like a star that walks the path of heaven With a long train of light, she and her maids Glided 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, fell Upon the table, spread with fruits heaped high On plates of delicate, transparent shells; While many a dainty, gathered from the sea Made more profuse the viands.
When round the board The guests had circled, e'er one ruby drop Of 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 glance On thee to gaze, And bright auroras softly dance In mutest praise; And, to and fro, With motion slow Wave the lamps whence colors flow. From every chrystal spire Flames forth thy silver fire; And glimmering wave, and rugged tower, And valley snow, and island flower, And the smooth ice, spread near and far Thy 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 rise Doth 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 eye Upon our feast! Thy silver robes flow o'er the sky Our great High Priest! Our world doth wear Thy livery fair From sparkling mount to jewel rare; And every lightest flake That drops into the lake; And all the solemn beauty spread Across the land, by thee is shed:-- Most magical thy influences are Thou wond'rous Star, Lueladar!
PART SECOND.
OLIVE had 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 renown The 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 crown The hoary brow of the old headland, Thug, With a dim glory, as of silver locks:-- It held its head aloft and seemed to be Peering 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 refuse To do the bidding of my heart; no more This faithful bosom thy delight shall be-- No more thine eyes shall smile into mine own Till both swim full of bliss--no more thy mouth Breathe 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 while That a sweet resoluteness on her lip Settled 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 steep And 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 passed When 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 breath Rushing 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 see Before me, in this region of dispair, A veritable mortal?"
By his voice Recalled to life, the trembling girl arose. Before her stood a man; and in his hand A spear that dripped with her pursuer's blood. With still unconquered terror of the brute She 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 word Of my blest country's language, and I'll deem The service I have done thee with this spear Naught in comparison. Speak, quickly speak!"
"What shall I say, but thank thee for my life? I am a maiden from far Southern climes Come searching for my lover. Dost thou know Where cruel OENE hast my BERTHO hidden? What do'est _thou_ here? It must be thou art come In search of wife or child,--what other fate Could lead thee to such barren heights as these?"
"Alas! dear child! there are other springs than love To move the human heart. Ambition, may be; Or better, a desire to serve my Queen And 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 eyes To gather into brightness as she gazed, Upon the grey, sublime, forlorn old man. Coldly the moonlight glinted o'er the group Regarding each the other with surprise:-- She, sad at his abandonment of hope; He, struck with mingled wonder and delight To meet this woman, beautiful and young.
"Dear friend," she said, brushing away her tears, "If thou wilt rest thee on this smoothest rock And tell me who thou art, and whence did come, And wherefore lingering here, pleased will I listen."
A smile stole o'er his pale, storm-beaten face.-- "I know thee now, from mother Eve descended, By thy most feminine willingness to hear, The sorrows which did claim thy ready tears While they were but suspected. Sit thee down. Five years it is since, with three stately ships And sturdy crews to man them, one proud day I sailed away from the great three-linked isle, Under my fair Queen's sovereign patronage, For the far Frigid Zone--the wild, the fierce, The unknown Arctic seas--through their cold depths, Their intricate, unmarked, majestic ways, To find a North-West Passage: which wise men And skillful mariners, learned of the sea, Suspected, through the navigator's art Might to the world be opened. High my heart With courage and ambition swelled its tides, Knowledge I had and skill, with enterprise; And should I be successful, future times Should know my name, and future mariners Respect my fame and emulate my deeds. But one faint spot was there in my proud heart, And that was where my constant wife, at parting, Shed sorrowful tears, until they did strike through, A fear, into my breast, that nevermore That faithful brow should lean to it again.
"To thee, if thou indeed hast safely passed The horrors and the beauties of the sea, I need not tell the ever-varying scenes Of this most fearful voyage.
"Day by day I studied in my cabin over charts; Or, on the deck, learned of the sea and sky The subtle mariner's ever-changeful lore. Prosperous we were, till o'er the mystic bounds Of OENE's realms I sailed; save now and then Some noble sailor of my kindly crews With tears we left upon the bloomless shores Where birds nor flowers should ever bless his grave. On--on--beyond all shores--or sights of dwarfs Slaying the rein-deer by their snow-built huts:-- On, through the thickening perils of the way! Methought I held within my brain the clue Through that bewildering labyrinth of ice. For weeks the Sun, a pale and sinking ghost, With feeble eyes had glared upon the Pole. Nor with his wavering arrows could o'erthrow Even the airy domes of delicate sprites, Sitting and decking their etherial robes And turning them, sparkling, to his sullen face.
"Now from OENE's dominions, messengers, Borne by the flying winds, hourly arrived, Warning me from her shores. At last the Queen, Gathered together her enormous fleet; It bore down upon us with such grand array As I pray heaven never to see again. An hundred giant ships, whose rainbow sails And glittering masts towered a thousand feet Above our tiny vessels, weighed their anchors And slowly from their harbors drifted out. We heard the creaking of their cables--heard The shouting of their fierce and naked crews-- We saw the green sea boil against their keels-- Their viewless banners flapped against our faces-- Their viewless darts pierced us on every side Till men fell on our decks, a stony heap. We strove, at least, to make a brave retreat, Toiling in mute dispair, or madly praying The winds to favor our poor, shattered sails. They closed around us upon every side. Two of the largest of their avenging fleet, Drawing together crushed in the embrace My stoutest vessel like some frailest shell; Then swung apart, with laughter on their decks, Showing me, where my noble friends had been, Only a seething gulf. The sweat of anguish Froze into hail upon my pallid brow, When, with another shriek of agony, The brother ship went down. At length the winds, Saving us only from more sudden death, Drove us upon the rocks beneath this mount. Five years had wasted all our store of food; But, seeing monsters like this beast of prey, Some of the least exhausted boldly forth Went to destroy them--I amid the rest,-- But stupor and a drowsy sweetness came Over our eyes, and we lay down to sleep-- Waking to hear the mocking laugh of ghouls, To find us chained, enslaved,--and, worse than all! Lost from our corporal bodies--spirits--dead!
"I, as the leader of the intruding band, Am doomed to wander on this mountain side, A century, before my restless ghost, Freed from the thraldom of weird OENE's power, Regains its natural liberty, and soars Into the paradise of happy souls. This is the punishment those mortals bear, Who, venturing into this strange Arctic world, Are vanquished by its sovereign. She hath power, The source of which I know not, to retain The souls of mortals for an hundred years, Demanding service which they needs must pay. The gloomy caverns underneath this mount, And those which in the hearts of icebergs lie, And many by the sea, are filled with those Who work their ransom out with tedious toil. For me--I am not put to any task-- My punishment to gaze afar and see How cruelly all friends from distant shores, Who dare attempt my rescue, are restrained. Alas; the North-west Passage! When the day Glinted o'er this pale land, before my sight In devious tracery that Passage lay; Mocking me with its undeveloped truth, Wealth unappropriated, glory lost! Cruel is she who took from me that substance With which I might have conquered an escape, Leaving me, a forlorn old spirit, sere and grey. Musing through barren hours upon the past, I think with bitterness on those who once Were friends and lovers--Queen, companions, Wife! Forgotten! yes, forgotten by them all! The luxuries of the world-taxing city, The kisses of their children, smiles of men Renowned of deeds which have not failed, like mine-- _This_ is the portion of that happier crowd Who set me on to dangerous enterprise. But ah! the worst part of it all, is this,-- To be forgotten by my own best friends-- To be to them as if I ne'er had been! My wife--my wife!"--he ended with bowed head.
"Art thou indeed a spirit?" OLIVE asked, Shrinking a step aside. Then her kind heart O'ercome the transient awe, and stealing close, While smiling on him with sweet, wondering eyes, Began again:--"But art thou truly he Whose name is on the lip of the great world?-- Of whom the wives and mothers, tearful, speak When sound the Northern wind-harps?--whose grand fate, Hath power to touch, not only hearts of men, But draw the golden drops from weeping purses? Oh! be content! if Fame and Love content thee. For thee, the hearts of mariners beat loud-- For thee, ships chase the pathways of the sea-- By thee the souls of nations, like one chord Are smote upon, and ring out sympathy; And men talk on the streets, and by their hearths, Of him who led to dismal, distant shores The Crusade of the Nineteenth Century. In that new world, where generous hearts are found To flourish on the air of liberty, A noble merchant fitted out a ship; And others joined him in his kindly plan, So deep the interest taken in thy fate. And oh, for thee, thou princely-fortuned man, A pale face from a northern window looks, Forever looks, with constancy sublime. At night, when spectral tints are in the North-- By day, when winds blow down from that bleak source-- That face peers from the window anxiously, As if the elements might come from thee Bearing some message to her pining heart."
As breaks the sunlight from a snow-filled cloud, Smiles struggled through the list'ner's wintry looks.
"As land-bird with a green twig in its beak Is welcome to the homesick ship which long Hath tossed in foreign waters, so art thou Welcome to me, with this consoling tale. I am content. Weird OENE, keep me here! And I will while away a century In dreaming of a love which hath not failed; Now knowing that the first to welcome me In Heaven's ineffable bowers, will be my wife."
"Since thou, Sir JOHN, protected me from harm, What I have said may be some small return. I do dislike to leave thee here, so lonely; But since I for my BERTHO went in search, Nought stays my footsteps long. Where'er I go, Whether I be successful in my search, Or perish by the way, I trust again We shall in spirit, if not in body, meet. I have seen this witching Pole-Queen; I have passed This circling cold and stood in the warm heart Of her domains--have pressed her magic isle With my poor human feet, and with my voice Have plead the cause of two young, eager souls. She was not kind, and yet not very cruel, She may relent, even of her hate towards thee. If I again have access to her ear, I'll not forget to plead thy cause, dear sir, As if it were mine own. Farewell!"
"Farewell, And heaven bless thine innocence, sweet friend."
With parting gesture full of tender grace And soft regret, she passed upon her way. A weary time it grew till on the summit Of Thug she stood, gazing bewildered round. No more she heard her lover's haunting call; But she herself cried out with aching voice, Whose sweetness dropped with every silver tone From the full note of hope to doubt and fear.
Sudden a chill fell on her, and a shadow; Her breath congealed, and on those rosy lips The white rime gathered. From behind a rock, Which crowned the mountain, there advanced to view WOLE, that old warrior who before OENE Rumbled his boastful story. In his hand He poised his massive spear in act to throw; Yet, seeing there, chilled in her loveliness, (Like some young rose-bud nipped by spring-time frost,) The maiden whom his Queen herself did spare, The frown rolled from his forehead as a cloud Rolls from a rugged crag. The spear remained Moveless in air, while through his frosty glance Melted a softness never known before. The life so nearly frozen in her veins Flew back and thrilled her heart, as on her knees She dropped, and lifting up her pleading hands Crying--"Slay me, at once, great WOLE, slay me! With those keen looks, or tell me of my lover! If this great mountain rested on my breast It could not crush me worse than this suspense, Kill me or free me from it! What, to thee-- Thou greatest warrior of this shadowy land, Whose conquests like the snows upon this mount Lie white and venerable on thy fame, Unsoiled by one defeat--what is to thee, One prisoner, if she who loves him well, Comes kneeling at thy feet, to ask him back? Thou'lt give him her, I know, since to achieve Renown like thine there must be generous heart."
"Look!" cried the warrior and outstretched his spear-- "'Tis not auspicious hour for such a plea."
Following the motion of his hand she saw From the horizon phantom suns and moons Shoot swiftly, or along the red edge roll. Dim on the distant verge of ghostly shores Pale fleets of paler shades, and flying hosts Of spectral horsemen on their vanishing steeds, Fled either way before the coming morn; While fairies that, on snow-flakes, sailed about Down through the valleys darted out of sight; And meteors, coursing higher in the sky, Exploded in their wrath, dropping down dead The fiery ghouls who rode their shining wings.