Chapter 4
Long time Sir JOHN, misled by wicked sprites, Searched for the Queen! until, by some kind chance, He wandered through a grotto by the sea, Where silver pendules from the ceiling hung And gossip ripples whispered at the door. Here, on a seat from solid crystal hewn Sat OENE,--BERTHO at her feet,--her hand Nestled amid the ringlets of his hair, Like some white dove amid the wav'ring shade; Her eyes bent softly on his countenance; The crimson of his fiery southern blood Burned through the brown of his defiant cheek; His eyes were downcast, that their sullen fire Should not too much betray him, as he lay, A half-tamed lion at his mistress' feet, Restless, yet yielding to the golden chain. In a low voice, which, like a pent-up stream, Chafed at its boundaries, he made reply To her incessant questions of the world, Of human life and love, of death, and heaven.
When bold Sir JOHN intruded on the scene OENE resumed her native haughtiness.
"I've come to plead the cause of a sweet child, Who, like a wild-bird newly caught and caged, Within her cell is fretting. Noble Queen, I'm not an eloquent nor fair young man, To please a gentle fancy; but my tongue And mind shall do thy bidding, should there be Aught which my humble wisdom could expound. The meanwhile he who now instructs thee, hastes To ope the prison door and let the bird Flutter to her true home within his breast."
Scarce were these words with a firm purpose said, When all the scene was changed. Where erst a Queen, In shape most loveable, did blushing sit, A terrible and yet a glorious form Rose in portentious wrath; her star-crowned head Paled the chaste lustre of the silvery dome. It was no shame to him that BERTHO fled, Dismayed, before the anger of her eyes, For they were awful. Parted from Sir JOHN, And flying through a dark, unknown ravine, He lost himself in tangled labyrinths: Stumbling o'er rocks--only by daring leaps Saving himself from dropping into chasms Which opened suddenly across his path. From tortuous windings underneath the ground, At length released, he thenceforth knew the way, And sped across the mountain to the cave Where OLIVE pined, weeping despairing tears. Like a swift arrow through the sunlight shot He passed athwart its glory, till he reached Her prison--heard her sudden cry of joy-- Touched the elaborate spring which bound her in, And freed her, while she gazed in mute surprise.
"Love! look not thus incredulous of hope! This temple was thy lover's handiwork-- This curious spring he wrought,--and what he did He can undo. My sweetest! it is I:-- Thy living, breathing BERTHO stands before thee! This happiness, at least, I owe the Queen, Who, since repentant, may her gift resume, Should Heaven not grant us now a quick escape. But once--this once--though death should press me next-- Come to my arms--to thy dear bosom draw me, So fondly close!--and feed my famished lips With kisses worth a life of wo to gain! Nay, pause not to inquire--'tis better thus To feel the throbbing of thy timid heart, Than to waste breath in words.--
"How did it come? I know not: I was tranced in sleep profound, And when I woke I was my former self. Queen OENE hoped my gratitude would grow To love, in time; and I was grateful--would Have given her everything but what was thine, And that alone she coveted. Come, sweet! Fly from this land forlorn:--if miracles Are still in fashion, one might serve us well. Cling to my guiding hand; trust all to me; My soul is so elate I would not flinch From meeting every imp of this dark land-- The touch of thy soft hand is such a triumph!"
Even while his accents lingered, they were gone By an obscure and solitary path, Until they came upon some rough-hewn steps, Which wandered round and down, interminable.-- A stairway leading to the upper world For the ascent of gnomes, who dwelt beneath In those huge tidal caves which underlaid Old Thug, upheaved from earth in ancient times. Silent the lovers fled; their locks grew wet With mildew, and their breath came gaspingly. A sound of gibbering gnomes, of elfish song-- Mingling high discords with the patient clink Of instruments of toil--of laughter strange-- Warned them of the wild laborers they must meet. A moment more, and the pale fugitives Stood at the bottom of those countless steps, Peering into the lowest deep of all. A hell-like spot! and spirits of the doomed Were scarce more haggard than the clumsy elves Who here pursued their coarse and perilous toil.
'Tis in these horrible caverns, deep and wide, Each day the ocean sinks, when, rushing round With the swift world, he falls into this snare; From whence with groans, and anger impotent, He backward struggles to his bed of sand And lies there panting; while the credulous earth, Dreaming of love, looks on him with a smile, Saying--"He pineth for the sweet-faced Moon;"-- Thus had he just receded, when the pair Stood peering shuddering in, hearing afar The painful sighs, which shook his savage breast. The dwarfish elves, with waning lamps in hand, Creeping like worms along the slimy floor, Pursued the ebbing tide collecting spoils. The lovers saw from what exhaustless mines Were gathered up the overwhelming wealth-- The jewels and the curious costly toys Which graced OENE and all her splendid court; For there the sea,--forever wrecking treasures, Gulping down golden argosies at once-- Leaves them behind him in his angry flight.
"Art thou afraid, my darling?" BERTHO asked-- "I'll bear thee safely through this hideous place. Here LUCIFER, I think, must love to linger; The shrieking of the ocean hath a sound Like the united wail of hopeless souls; Here darkness dwells in everlasting sleep; For these poor, puny lights which wander round, Scarce make the drowsy lashes of his lids Tremble o'er his blind eyes;--the heated earth Gives forth the odors of her burning heart, In whose incessant fires her vitals wither. See! where those wretched gnomes are dragging chests, Banded with iron! most like, is heaped within The ingots of some drowned West-Indian: And look! ah heaven! how beautiful and strange, To see the delicate corpse of this young girl Like marble petrified, the raven hair Grown rankly long, trailing around her limbs, And clinging to her lovely, breathless breast!-- That rude dwarf clutching from her helpless hands The jewels which some friend or lover gave. If we had time to give our fancies range, What a wild story we would make of this!" Thrilling with pity, OLIVE hid her eyes.
Twelve hours of desperate flight, and they emerged From darkness to a dead shore, shrouded white,-- Saw the green ocean rolling, saw the Sun, Pale, like a wounded God, and weary, hang Low in the southern sky--saw mountains crowned With snow and fire--saw motionless cataracts Hanging like frozen rainbows over chasms-- And icebergs settling downward towards the sun As if to pierce him with their glist'ning spears. Remotely, to the North, the Polar Sea Hung like a roseate cloud along the sky Fringing with lovely tints the dim horizon, Holding unseen its island star within.
"A miracle!" quoth BERTHO; "Love, observe How all these waves set from the shore, and glide Like a broad river, 'twixt these frozen banks. The current which ran northward with thy boat, Has overtopped the Pole, and flows away, A liquid belt, girdling the earth. Alas! We have no trusty boat in which to launch, Once more, our fortunes on the promising deep."
Wearied, they flung themselves upon the shore, And, hand in hand, sat gazing on the sea With home-sick longing. WOLE, the eager-eyed, From his far height espied them where they sat, And sent four of his people to their aid (Such power hath youth and beauty through the world!) Bearing a skiff, contrived of ribs of whales, For frame work,--these, inwove with fibrous moss, And lined with furs of savage Arctic beasts Which he had slain. When, with this welcome gift The slaves appeared, and bowed at OLIVE's feet, The tears sprang to her eyes; her heart was touched By this rude warrior's magnanimity. They put to sea. Scarce were they free from land, When, o'er the plain they saw OENE advance, Alone and melancholy, to the shore. Her anger was subdued by greater grief; While something new and holier than sorrow Restrained revenge. It was the Love Divine Which sacrifices self to others' good. Some word, Sir JOHN had uttered when her wrath Would have consumed him, fell upon her heart Like rain on a thirsty garden--there sprang up The amaranthine flower of charity Whose seed was dropped from heaven; the nameless pain, The want, which she had ever felt, was gone; She knew the immortal meaning of the Soul, And blessed the speaker for the 'perfect work.'
Speedily from her sight they floated out; But, long time, while gazing, they saw her stand In desolate beauty, silent on the beach. The plaintive music of a horn wound down From WOLE's grey fortress; all the fading scene Lay, like a sad thought in a musing breast Called up by the enchantment of sweet sound-- A thought, no more--all,--save those lustrous eyes Shining upon them like two troubled stars-- Vaguely receding into things that were: While, high and low, in whispering melodies Borne by the uncertain winds, a farewell came:--
Oh, when for love we pine We sleep in bloomless bowers; But Life is a thing divine When the love we crave is ours. Shut close your feathery wings Ye silvery birds of snow-- Across the ocean's rippled rings Let no wild tempest blow; From valleys bleak and caverns hollow Let no rude spirit dare to follow.
Oh, who hath drunk of love Will drink forevermore; While ever, the golden rim above, The draught will bubble o'er. Let no fierce storm assail These lovers in their flight, But only a soft and steady gale Pursue them day and night; Nor jutting rock nor whirlpool hollow Can seize them while our wishes follow.
Oh, love is a singing bird That flutters everywhere; His music in our souls is heard, Charming us unaware. Over the restless sea The while these lovers glide, This bird will pour his music free And soothe the sleepless tide:-- While tempests crouch in caverns hollow Let this sweet bird the lovers follow.