SCENE IV.
_Near sunset--a dreary, desolate region, surrounded with ice-mountains--the Hunter drives a sledge rapidly forward, in the back part of which sit Olaf and Paolo._
_Olaf._ Where is this wild? I know not where thou drivest!
_Hunter._ Below our feet lies the eternal ice Of the great sea!
_Olaf._ Our prey abides not here!
_Hunt._ We’ll find enough, anon!
_Olaf._ Thou dost not know The track on which thou go’st.--Here only dwells The gaunt and savage wolf! and hark--even now I hear their bark!
_Paol._ Oh, are there wolves a-nigh?
_Hunt._ Ay, they are nigh, look in that black abysm, It is a wild wolf’s den!
_Olaf._ Thou braggart hunter, Is this thy wondrous skill? Wheel round the sledge Before the horse is maddened with the cry! There is no time to lose! Pull in the beast!
_Hunt._ It will not do--the wolves are now upon us!
_Paol._ Oh father, save me! save me, dearest father!
_Olaf._ Let go my cloak--they shall not hurt thee, child! [_to the hunter._] Thou cursed man!--Dost see these savage beasts, And yet sit grinning there, as thou had’st done A piece of hunter-craft!
_Hunt._ You carry arms-- Cannot you fire upon them? They will gorge Upon each other, and be pacified!
_Olaf._ If they taste blood, they will be more ferocious-- And thou knowest well, we have not ammunition For such a strife! yet will I fire upon them, Their savage barking will bring others down.
[_He fires._
_Paol._ Oh horrid! how they tear each other’s flesh.
_Olaf._ Now hurry forward, for our only hope Lies in out-speeding them!
_Paol._ Let us go home!
_Olaf._ Again they are upon us--their gaunt jaws Dropping with blood, which they lick evermore! Now for another slaughter!
_Hunt._ ’Tis in vain, For right and left, yet other packs are coming!
_Paol._ Oh father, father, they will be upon us! And I shall never see my mother more!
_Hunt._ Peace, brawling child!
_Olaf._ My poor, dear boy, be still.
_Paol._ I will, I will, dear father!
_Olaf._ [_To the hunter._] Cursed murderer. His blood will be upon thy head!
_Hunt._ Indeed! Who forced him from his mother ’gainst his will?
_Olaf._ Most strange, inhuman wretch!
_Hunt._ Nay, use thy gun, ’Twill do thee better service than thy tongue!
_Olaf._ [_aside._] Please heaven I live, I’ll pay thee for this hunt, Wages thou didst not ask!
[_He puts his last charge into his piece._
This is the last-- When this is done, there is no other hope But in our flight! _He fires._ Now heaven must be our helper! On, on, spare not the thong!
[_The horse in dashing forward, breaks from the sledge; the wolves fall upon him instantly._
_Olaf._ Now must we fly!
_Hunt._ There is a hut among these icy deserts Raised by some hunters. While they gorge themselves We may escape.
_Paol._ Take, take my hand, dear father!
_Olaf._ How cold it is, poor boy!
[_They turn among the ice-mountains, and soon are out of sight._