Weeping and laughing in a breath, the cheek,66
The lip he kiss'd—then kneeling, clasp'd the hand;
And gasping, sobbing, sought in vain to speak—
Meanwhile the King the beard-grown visage scann'd:
Amazed—he knew his Carduel's comely lord,
And the warm heart to heart as warm restored!
Speech came at length: first mindful of the lives,67
Claiming his care and perill'd for his sake,
Not yet the account that love demands and gives
The generous leader paused to yield and take;
Brief words his follower's wants and woes explain;—
"Light, warmth, and food.—Sat verbum," quoth Gawaine.
Quick to his wondering and Pigmæan troops—68
Quick sped the Knight; he spoke and was obey'd;
Vanish once more the goblin-visaged groups
And soon return caparison'd for aid;
Laden with oil to warm and light the air,
Flesh from the seal, and mantles from the bear.
Back with impatient rapture bounds the King,69
Smiling as he was wont to smile of yore;
While Gawaine, blithesome as a bird of spring,
Sends his sweet laughter ringing to the shore;
Pains through that maze of questions, "How and Why?"
And lost in joy stops never for reply.
Before them roved wild dogs too numb to bark,70
Led by one civilized majestic hound,
Who scarcely deign'd his followers to remark,
Save, when they touch'd him, by a snarl profound;
Teaching that plebs, as history may my readers,
How curs are look'd on by patrician leaders.
Now gain'd the huts, silent with drowsy life,71
That scarcely feels the quick restoring skill;
Train'd with stern elements to wage the strife,
The pigmy race are Nature's conquerors still.
With practised hands they chafe the frozen veins,
And gradual loose the chill heart from its chains;
Heap round the limbs the fur's thick warmth of fold,72
And with the cheerful oil revive the air.
Slow wake the eyes of Famine to behold
The smiling faces and the proffer'd fare;
Rank though the food, 'tis that which best supplies
The powers exhausted by the withering skies.
This done, they next the languid sufferers bear73
(Wrapp'd from the cold) athwart the vapoury shade,
Regain the vale, and show the homes that there
Art's earliest god, Necessity, hath made;
Abodes hewn out from winter, winter-proof,
Ice-blocks the walls, and hollow'd ice the roof![12]
Without, the snowy lavas, hard'ning o'er,74
Hide from the beasts the buried homes of men,
But in the dome is placed the artful door
Through which the inmate gains or leaves the den.
Down through the chasm each lowers the living load,
Then from the winter seals the pent abode.
There ever burns, sole source of warmth and light,75
The faithful lamp the whale or walrus gives,
Thus, Lord of Europe, in the heart of Night,
Unjoyous not, thy patient brother lives!
To thee desire, to him possession sent,
Thine worlds of wishes,—his that inch, Content!