Читать книгу The Arctic Queen - Unknown - Страница 2

Oene, of all the chilly Arctics, queen,

Ascended to her everlasting throne

Built on the steadfast centre of the world,

And waited for the middle hour of night,

Now swiftly coming, to convene her court.

Set in an ocean of perpetual calm

Was the fair island honoured by her reign;

Slowly around her rolled the Frigid Zone,

Dim in the mystic moonlight far away,—

A silvery ring, circling her nearer realm

With the pale lustre of its snowy walls,

Defending from all storm and sudden change

The sea which bathed the island's level shores.

She sat upon her throne, and none might tell

Whether her limbs the lambent lustre cast

Upon the pearls of which it was composed,

Or they cast beauty on her glowing form.

Around her feet a pavement spread, inlaid

Of squares of roseate sea-shells, set about

With purple gems, unknown in other lands;—

Thence, winding paths, sprinkled with golden sand,

Ran out, through bowers of flowers and fields of green

To meet the sea.

Low in the South the Moon

Shone full against the island. The North-star,

Sparkling and blazing like a silver sun,

Stood at the Zenith, as a lamp hung out

From heaven to charm the endless Arctic night;—

And thus a soft profusion of pure light,

More exquisite than sunshine, fell abroad.

Unnipped by daintiest frosts, in every field

Flowers crowded thick; and trees, not tall nor rude,

With slender stems upholding feathery shade,

Nodded their heads and hung their pliant limbs

In natural bowers, sweet with delicious gloom.

Queen Oene sent her luminous glance afar:

Fine rays of tintless light played round her head,

Crowning her beauty with mysterious glory.

She gazed away, beyond the tranquil sea,

To distant mountains of unchanging snow,

And still beyond, to where full many a tower

And fortress reared their walls of gleaming ice

On the dim verges of her vast domains.

Scarcely had she in silence throned herself,

Ere from the trees, or flower-coves of the shore,

Or gliding in from idling on the sea,

Her maids of honor came, a virgin train,

Like a bright constellation clustering round

The central star, most glorious of them all.

One, in a crimson blossom, torn away

From its far moorings, nestled at her ease,

Was seen slowly to skim the silver lake;

While the huge flower seemed of itself propelled,

Save that, by chance, a flushed and saucy face,

Peeped from the waves, showing a little imp

Who tugged at its stout stem with willful toil.

Kolona's limbs and bosom roseate glowed

As the slant moonlight through the crimson flower

Bathed her with blushes; but, when on the strand

She lightly sprang, flinging her tresses back,

A southern maiden would have deemed her pale.

Too rich for pallor was the polished glow

Of her lithe figure; while, in either cheek,

The red veins glimmered; dark blue were her eyes;

Her tresses, like deep shadows, made more fair

The light which they enhanced, glancing within.

The first to touch the white feet of the Queen

And place herself at her right hand, was she.

Others came soon; all bright, all beautiful,

With deep blue eyes, and sweet mouths set in smiles.

Long chains of jewels rare were, round their necks,

Twined many times; these, flickering, rose and fell

With the soft breath their full, graced bosoms drew.

From waist to knee of each a tunic dropped

In many folds, woven in changing hues

Of birds' gay plumage, and fringed deep with gems,

Which they with artless and unenvying pride,

Would fain have made, each, most magnificent.

They gathered round their Queen, as midnight neared.

Suddenly, with the hour, there came a change

Over the moonlight and the courtly scene.

Oene upon the pavement pressed her feet,

And out the North-Lights sprang, to do her will,

From secret caverns underneath its pearls.

O'er all the land she bade them come and go;

Each battlemented iceberg on the deep

Of other seas, and every snowy hall,

And every citadel by frosts upreared,

Were lighted with wild splendors, as the troupes

Of messengers rushed swiftly to and fro.

The people of the Arctics knew their Queen

Summoned her subjects to the Presence then

By wavering tints which played beneath the Star,

And the great speed with which the North-Lights flew.

They hurried even to the Temperate Zone.

A band of phantom spirits took wings and flew

Far to the southern sky, a fluttering crowd.

A warrior, yellow garbed, with fiery spear,

Bestrode a frantic steed, and looked not back

Till he alighted on a distant hill.

With scintillant flames some perched on towers remote

Or bore green banners o'er the mirroring sea,

Or flitted through dim valleys, bright and fast,

Casting their flickering shadows down the deep

And awful solitudes of Arctic lands.

Such of her people as had aught to ask

Of favor or redress, from air and earth,

Came now, bringing petitions, councils, gifts.

Some slid on twinkling star-beams through the air,

Some sailed in shallops over the light waves,

And all who came had presents for their Queen,—

Rare tints which they had caught just as the Moon

Peered o'er the shoulder of the mighty Thug.—

Those dwelling in the caverns of the sea

Brought up the gayest jewels they could find,

And pearls from underneath their low-based bergs

Deep in the green waves, that, with thunderous sound,

Did lull the giants of the North to sleep.

There came, as time rolled by, from the far verge

Of her vast realm, the rugged guardian ghouls,

Stationed in fortresses and waging war

On all encroachers from the hated South.

These had wild forms and gaunt; their dress was rude—

Skins of the white bear fastened to their loins.

They bore long, glistening spears, and deadly clubs

Wrenched from the spines of monsters of the sea.

Their gifts were rude as they, and yet their Queen

Unbent the radiant quiet of her brow,

Gazing with favor on these proofs of valor.

Tales of achievements dread, of battles, deaths,

Had they to speak, while, with pleased ear intent,

Their sovereign listened.

One warrior ghoul

With crispy locks and frosty eyes, and breath

Chiller than death's,—naked, as scorning e'en

To wear the trophies of his fierce renown—

Before the Presence stood, and told in haste,—

As half impatient of the wish to boast,

Yet proud to serve so well—how he was called

Wole, guardian of old Thug;—how from the South

Came, ploughing slowly through the unwilling sea,

A ship, crowded with mortals from that land;

How, boldly, in defiance of commands

Sent out by skirmishing Frosts, they still drew near,

Passing the outer line of her domains;

Daring to come, with their invading eyes,

Where never mortals else had looked and lived.

He told,—and here he glanced, upon his friends,

Eyes of bright scorn—how the imperious ship

Passed safely Tug and Dor, though all the guards

Shot barbs of ice, and filled the air with fine,

Invisible needles, piercing their pained flesh,

And tore their stiffening sails with sharp-teethed winds;

How, still, the ship pressed on where He kept watch,

Ready to do new service for his Queen:

How, as it closer came, he fixed his eyes

Relentlessly upon it, till nor hand,

Nor foot, nor eyelid of the fated crew

Had power to stir, nor even the sails to flap,

While banded winds which he sent forth, still drove

The doomed ones onward to the eager shore,

Where every soul had perished, one by one.

"Thou hast done well, old Wole," Queen Oene said.

Stepping a pace in front of her companions,

With bashful cheek, but with a kindling eye—

"'Tis not for one like me to have a thought

In thy rare presence, Queen," Kolona said,—

"Yet I would dare to tell thee what I saw

Only a moon ago, when a wild freak

Possessed me to go voyaging alone,

Across the sea, to find what curious things

The other shore might hold. My lily bark,

Being too frail for such a venturous cruise

I borrowed Gondor's boat of nautilus' shells,

Put up my lua-leaf sail and swiftly sped

Across the ocean, till this level isle

Grew smaller than a star. The air grew cold:—

I almost shivered in my bird's-down mantle;

But when I neared the opposing shore, the sight

Of all its snowy scenery, repaid me.

Coasting along at leisure, on a cliff

Which overhung the sea, I saw appear

A being, whom I knew at once as Man.—

One of that mortal race which we have kept

Forever, since our chronicles began,

With war assiduous, from our inner realms,

Still undefiled by their invading feet.

The choking hurry of my noisy heart

Told me the truth. At first I would have fled,

But, being unperceived by him, I lingered,—

Inquisitive and wilful that I am.

Thenceforth, sweet Queen, I never can forget

The face of this one man which I have seen.

Triumph was on his brow, and yet not that

So much as doubt and earnest questioning.

Something arose into his eyes and shone

Which must have been his Soul; it searched the deep,

The earth, the sky, with bright and troubled gaze;

And then, glanced forward with so still a look,

It seemed that it, perforce, would vanish space,

And bring our secret world within its ken;

Yet, with no cruelty or wantonness,

Such as we hear gleamed from the cunning eyes

Of those fierce hordes who, centuries ago,

Came in their boats and strove to conquer us.

Knowledge was what it craved, with truth it burned;

A majesty we cannot name, expressed

Its power within his features. Then I felt

That, could I bring him to thy gracious feet

He would reveal to us that mystery

The dream of which so oft hath troubled us,

Breaking upon us, like the light of Heaven,

Too high for us to fix its source—that spoke

Of an eternal, comprehensive Life,

The thought of which doth haunt us. In return

We could bestow the knowledge which he craved,

And link his name with ours through all the earth,

Fearless of harm from one who only craves

The crown of Genius for his soul-lit brow.

Almost I rowed my shallop to his feet;

Almost I offered to convey him hither,

Yet feared so much, O, Queen, thy just displeasure,

That I forbore.

"Long time he, gazing, stood;

And when he turned, 'twas with so deep a sigh

The sound awakened in me strange regret,

Endless reproach, and grief before unknown.

Art angry with thy maiden, peerless Queen?"

Over the lustrous forehead of Oene

A shadow came, and deepened in her eyes.

"I might have slain thee both, if thou hadst ventured;

For it is part of our ancestral law,

The most immutable, to guard ourselves,

With our severest powers, from envious Man.

Yet, as thou sayest, he might have fed our hearts

With sweet immortal food—aye, given us souls,

If such things be,—worth half my priceless realms.

No more—no more! Kolona! take thy place!"

As a soft flower shrinks from the coming night,

Amid protecting leaves, Kolona shrank,

Amid her tresses, from her sovereign's eyes,

So gloomy yet so kind; and mutely stood

Amid the bright and coyly wondering train.

A band of sprites, armed with sharp, silver spears,

With pearl-encrusted garb and gleaming sandals,

Dwelling low down the land, even amid men,

The Queen's advance guard, giving due alarm

Of all attacks, taking short flights by night,

And reconnoitering the southern world,—

Had sent a group to counsel with their Queen.

These, now, had much to say of an adventure

Which took them almost to the Tropic Zone:—

How they had blighted fruit; and mildews cast

Over the fields; and blasted flowering trees;

Nipping the hopes of gaudy butterflies,

Doting on honeyed flowers to fill their mouths;

Chilling the saucy birds within their nests;

Ruining the rainbow hues of many a garden;

Pricking the insect world with their fine spears,

And disappointing mortals of their wish.

Their somewhat boastful discourse these had ceased,

When came in hosts a crowd around the Pole,

Parting on each side to make way for one,

A stranger, craving audience of their Queen.

What saw those weird and piercing eyes, full turned

To meet the coming throng?—a singular sight,

Which filled them with bright anger and surprise!

Up from the sea, along a silvery path,

A mortal came; her girlish feet the first

That ever pressed the veritable Pole;

And not more strange to her was this wild queen,

And all the fairness of these maids of honor,

Than was her sunny beauty unto them.

The fluttering brightness of her golden hair,

The lustrous darkness of her eyes, the warmth

Of tropic tints upon her brow and cheek,

The dimpled fullness of her form, appeared

In vivid contrast with their fairer charms.

She held an offering of gorgeous flowers—

Those most renowned for fragrance—in her hands,

Which, as she reached the platform, she held forth

With a most winning, most beseeching air.

Amazed at such presumption, on the maid,

Queen Oene's brow darkened in sudden wrath.

"Warriors! do ye permit this sight!" she cried.

The lightest breath of that majestic voice

Had ever been with prompt obedience met;

But now, though hoarse and deep as surging sea,

No spear was lowered and no arrow bent.

The Pole-Queen raised aloft her pale right arm;—

She stamped her haughty feet upon the pave,—

And all the Powers of the vast Frigid Zone

Were in commotion terrible:—the earth

Shook till the people reeled, and reeling, fell;

The circle of white gems about the throne

Threw off strange darts of light which smote like steel:

Swift whirling round with inconceivable speed

A host of Northern Lights sprang into air,

And, battling round their Queen, confused and wild,

Blent with each other in the fierce affray.

The frightened stars paled in the distant sky;

And spectres rushed on shadowy steeds of grey

Down the flushed firmament; and shining spears,

Held by invisible hands, whirled high o'erhead.

Pale mortals in the far off Torrid Zone

Saw wonders in the Northern air with fear;

And when an inward trembling shook the Pole

Central through all the earth, in distant lands

The mountains belched forth fire on fated cities.

Behind the throne suddenly arose a shower,

As 'twere of phosphorescent flakes of snow,

Straight upward like a fountain, and then fell

In glowing sparks wide over all the land.

The surging sea dashed its bewildered waves

Against the foreheads of gigantic bergs,

Walking, like drunken men, the noisy deep.

Anon the Pole was calm. Uninjured stood

The mortal maid before the great Oene;

While near, a thousand prostrate subjects lay

Slain by an angry sovereign disobeyed.

"Queen of this strange and spectral land, wilt thou

Not show thy favor to a lonesome child

Come wandering all this way, impelled by love?

Not hate, ambition, curiosity,

Have led me to thy fair and fearful presence.

I have no power, am but a weak young girl;

And chance, alone, has thus revealed to me

The mystic glory of this unknown world,

With thy bright self and this enchanted isle,—

This pearl upon the bosom of the deep

So palely, purely fair—undreamed of beauty!

Love is the sole excuse which I can urge

For my intrusion"—here the stranger blushed,

Drooping in silence her embarrassed head.

"Speak on!" imperially the Pole-Queen said,

Charmed in her own despite, by that sweet face;

While Lir-lir to Kolona leaned and smiled,

Commending, in a whisper, what she saw:

And a soft flutter through the courtly train

Stirred, like the shimmer of a moonlit breeze

Kissing the waves:—"I will thy message hear!"

And so the maiden, gathering courage, said:

"Far in a blooming isle, in Southern seas,

I had a home, whose walls, of marble cool,

Were chequered by soft shadows, hovering,

Like flocks of birds, about its battlements;

For, all around, were trees, whose glistening leaves

Danced ever, in the sunlight or the moonlight,

To the soft flutes of the Arcadian winds;

And to the sleepy music, drowsily

The gorgeous flowers nodded their lovely heads.

Through the bright days, and in my sleep at night,

I heard the ripples breaking on the sand,

Till their continual murmur grew to be

A thing of course,—like sunshine and fresh air,—

Or like the love which grew into my life,

As color into flowers when they unfold.

The fluttering foliage and the sighing waves

Seemed whispering "Bertho!" ever in my ear;

For Bertho was my lover, and my heart

Could find no other meaning in their sound.

I was a princess of that blooming isle;

But Bertho—he was poor! still, not so poor

As brave, high-souled, and strangely venturesome.

He trusted to the sea to gain his wealth,

As well as knowledge and a manly fame.

Ah! how I wept, when told that we must part!

How much more bitter tears I shed that day

On which he left me, wretched, by the shore,

Watching the gleam of his receding sails!

"Dim grew the golden air from that dark hour.

Like some rich flower, torn from the wooing kiss

Of the warm sun, and hidden in a cell,

I drooped, and lost the redness of my cheeks.

All the wild thrills that used to come and go,

Tumultuous, through my happy heart, and send

The pulses flying through my frame, died out.

"And thus in sadness two long summers passed.

In madness or in wisdom my poor brain

Wrought out a vision in my troubled sleep,

Through which I saw my Bertho, and he bade

My soul be still and fear not,—I should take

My little boat, in which I used to skirt

The island shores, and loose it on the deep,

Placing myself within it:—It would come,

By force of an unknown and magic current,

(The thought of which, in speculative minds,

Had long been cherished,) straightway to the shore

Of the strange country where, enthralled, he dwelt.

If I still loved him, this would prove my love!

"Straight from my couch I rose, and like a ghost

Stole through the darkness of my father's halls;

Fled to the sea; and in my fragile bark

I heaped a few fresh fruits, and bore a vase

Filled with fresh water,—this was all my store.

I loosed my shallop from the anchoring rock,

And, as it drifted out upon the tide,

I leaned upon the single, slender oar

Whose aid was all I asked upon the deep.

Before my yearning vision lay my home,

Fading away from sight as the full tide

Went murmuring back from its delightful shores.

The loveliest hour of all the twenty-four

Charmed earth and ocean, that eventful time.

Moonlight and morning, softly blending, lay

Upon the land; while down the glassy sea,

Far in the distance, slowly stole a band

Of sunrise glories, smiling, looking back,

And glowing with warm splendors. All the East

Was crimson with their blushes, and the waves

Which followed in their bright and stately way

Wore crests of gold, and purple-shaded robes.

Next came light breezes blowing from the land,

Odorous with roses, sweet with drowsy songs

Of nightingales, and cool with myrtle leaves,

Following down the path the sunrise took.

And next, the stars went dimly down the west,

Crowd upon crowd, in slow and shining cars,

Bright wheeling down their heaven-appointed way.

"All day the sun shadowed himself in clouds;

My cheeks scarce browned beneath his cooled rays.

At night I sank contentedly to sleep,

Upon the silken cushions of my bark;

Then mermaids, who, attracted by my voice,

Had floated round me, underneath the waves,