The Arctic Queen

by Unknown

"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."