The Arctic Queen | Page 7

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