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.