"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.