Unknown - The Arctic Queen
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Unknown >> The Arctic Queen
"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.
Sudden, while OLIVE gazed, she thought a flame
Sprang from her feet, when looking, startled, down,
She saw the glory of the rising sun
Touching the pinnacle of sparkling ice
On which she stood. Silent and rapt she gazed
While thousand golden flames on thousand spires
Were low and lower lit; and here and there
Some broad plain glimmered into sudden white--
And frozen cataracts which, in daring leaps
Midway between vast depths were holden tight,
Gleamed out like streams of gold:--Thus, one by one,
The wonders of that soulless land appeared,
While grey and ghast, behind the sparkling towers
Of gorgeous Thug, the ancient Night stooped down.
WOLE gnashed his teeth and turned again to smite
The helpless girl who pleaded; but the light
Which angered him had beautified her so,
That his cold breath grew moist upon his beard.
The sunlight melting in her eyes and flushing
Her cheeks with rosy redness, crowned her hair
With lustrous splendor, and about her form
Fell like a robe of glory, warm and soft.
"Mortal!" he cried, while in the agony
'Twixt admiration and inherent hate,
The sullen throbbing of his heart was seen
Thrilling his moistened beard--"Pass from my sight!
Thou makest old Thug's warrior drop his spear,
And should that fair face beam on me eternal,
Eternal I would swear the sun was good
And OENE was no Queen. Yet I would rather,
Crush thee beneath my feet, than be this traitor."
He would have thrust her rudely from his path.
But she arose from off her bended knee,
Turning her fair face from him, so her hair
Hid its too touching beauty from his sight;
Clasping her suppliant hands upon her bosom
She spoke out wildly, as one weary waiting
For long-expected good;--
"Oh, cruel WOLE!
Where is my BERTHO in this mountain hidden?--
Shaping fantastic dreams of heartless OENE,
With aching hands into a tangible beauty.
How can'st thou keep two yearning souls apart?
If _thou_ could'st feel what love is, mighty master
Of loveless War, then thou would'st pity me!"
"Thou shalt behold thy lover, southern girl,"
Was WOLE's reply, and reaching round the rock
Took up a horn shorn from some monster's head
And blew in it a blast meant to be angry:
Yet strangely pining from the curves it came,
And went down wailing through the pallid sunlight,
For it was born of the tumultuous sigh
Stirred in his bosom by the lovely stranger.