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,