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