That somewhere in thy mystical domains
    My BERTHO dwells.  Do’st know him?  Is he well? 
    And does he for his fond-eyed Olive look,
    With hollow shadows underneath his brows
    From too much watching?”

                              OENE answered back
    The eager pleading of her glance with one
    Of chilly calmness, as she thus replied:—­

    “There is no living mortal in my realms,
    Save thou alone, the first who ever came. 
    Thy BERTHO, from a thousand shades of men
    Who roam the prisons of our underworld,
    Pray, how can we distinguish?  Would’st thou search? 
    Thou hast the liberty.  We will not lay
    The slightest new obstruction in thy way;
    And this is mercy which we did not deem
    We should extend towards an enemy. 
    We do not comprehend that strange excess
    Of passion which hath made thee venture here. 
    But love, at least, is harmless.  Go thy ways.” 
    The innocent maidens, gathered round their Queen,
    Looked on with interest, as the southern girl
    Turned with a mute and trembling lip, away. 
    Tula, who on KOLONA’s shoulder leaned,
    Sprang towards her, reaching forth a friendly hand,
    Whispering,—­“Stay, beautiful, and sup with us;
    Our servant spirits have already spread
    The Feast of Borealis in the field,”
    But, Olive shook her head, denying smiles
    Deep in her wistful eyes, and went her way.

    Court being ended, from her regal throne
    OENE descended, passed the glowing steps,
    And, like a star that walks the path of heaven
    With a long train of light, she and her maids
    Glided in lustrous beauty down the way,
    And gathered to the Feast.

                                Above the field,
    Hedged round with lillies growing tall and fair,
    The North-Lights clustered in a coronal,
    And each held forth a lamp, in the still air,
    Of purple, blue or green, crimson or rose,
    Whose flickering splendors, like soft rainbows, fell
    Upon the table, spread with fruits heaped high
    On plates of delicate, transparent shells;
    While many a dainty, gathered from the sea
    Made more profuse the viands.

                                  When round the board
    The guests had circled, e’er one ruby drop
    Of liquid passed their lips, or food was touched,
    The Virgins of the Court, in voices flowing,
    Did sing this song in honor of the Feast,
    While with a silent and a magical grace,
    The North-Lights danced, and waved their flaming lamps: 

Lueladar! 
O mighty Star! 
The flying meteors backward glance
On thee to gaze,
And bright auroras softly dance
In mutest praise;
And, to and fro,
With motion slow
Wave the lamps whence colors flow. 
From every chrystal spire
Flames forth thy silver fire;
And glimmering wave, and rugged tower,
And valley snow, and island flower,
And the smooth ice, spread near and far
Thy mirrors are, Lueladar!