heart: 
I, too, would know what love is.  I command
That thou shalt teach me, BERTHO.  Let the girl
Return, uninjured, to her southern bowers;
Whilst thou remain to teach me this new lore. 
Perchance, in finding Love, I’ll gain a soul,
And learn of immortality; and all
The vague, sad intuitions that now mock me,
Make real, and I become what I have dreamed. 
Make these things come to pass, and thou shalt have,
Thy body and thy freedom, and a place,
The highest of my chieftains.  Follow me!”

    These ominous words of the enamored Queen,
    Spoken as though she knew not what it was
    That one should think of disobedience,
    Poor Olive heard, with looks of agony
    Fixed on the speaker’s face—­that Northern face,
    Wild in its power and in its beauty weird. 
    The starry halo of that tintless crown,
    The midnight blackness of her plentiful hair,
    Set off the splendor of the countenance
    On which the maiden bent her pale regard. 
    A jealous terror urged her on to say—­

    “Love is not taught, Queen OENE; ’tis a gift
    Mysterious as life, and more divine;
    The congregated glories of this cave,
    With all its jewelled lamps and sparkling roof
    Could never purchase one of its small joys. 
    Love, in exchange, takes nothing but itself,
    Power cannot claim it—­fear cannot command—­
    It is a tribute Queens cannot exact. 
    The humblest peasant, singing in her hut,
    Is often richer than the proudest princess: 
    It is the gift God left the human race
    To keep them from despair, when sin and shame,
    Pain, poverty, and death, and madness came
    Among the people.  When a youthful pair,
    Look in each other’s eyes and say—­“We love”—­
    The common earth grows to a heavenly world. 
    Singing of birds, shining of summer suns,
    Blooming of flowers and brightness of the moon,
    Have a new charm to their elated sense;
    They hear the music of the Universe,
    Walking, with light feet, to the harmony;
    Careless of care and disbelieving pain,
    Grateful for life—­and all, because they love. 
    Thus have we said those irrecallable words—­
    Solemnly smiling in each other’s eyes—­
    BERTHO and I—­and never to unsay! 
    Therefore, sweet Queen, command him not, I pray,
    To an impossible thing, which needs compel
    Rebellion to the will which he respects. 
    I am a princess, yet will not refuse,
    The humblest service which thy pride requires,
    If I from BERTHO am not forced to part.”

    Imperious OENE turned her scornful eyes
    Quickly to BERTHO’s, as in inquiry;
    While he, gathering resolve from OLIVE’s face
    Of love and anguish, answered the mute look: