“I cannot teach thee love, since it is learned
    Only when one heart from another takes
    The sweet contagion; but, my bride and I
    May humbly teach thee other human lore. 
    Thou say’st thou hast no soul.  This cannot be,
    Since reason and all mental gifts are thine;
    Within the lovely calyx sleeps the germ,—­
    A flower as yet unblossomed.  Warmth and light
    From the great spiritual Sun alone it wants
    To bud and bloom into the fullest life. 
    Shall we expound this marvellous mystery?—­
    Tell thee of Endless Life which still unfolds
    Till it doth circle every star in heaven?—­
    And light within thy spotless bosom’s shrine
    The silvery flame of Christ’s unwavering love—­
    A love which we, indeed, would gladly teach,
    The parent of all other, whose pure fire
    Doth hallow and exalt our earthly hopes. 
    We’ll learn those peerless lips to syllable, god!—­
    A word that thrills the Universe with awe! 
    Thou shalt no more a lovely heathen be,
    But a sweet Woman, and a child of Heaven.”

    A slow, soft light, into the wondering eyes
    Intently fixed upon the speaker, came—­
    A deeper glow than from their slumberous blue
    Had ever startled; as she slightly bent,
    With earnest air, her crowned, resplendent head.

    “Speak on!” she bade, “my thirsty heart is held
    To catch your words, as lillies catch the dew—­
    So eager that it fain would overbrim
    With the fresh gathering.  It has waited long;
    And now, it shall be filled to bright excess. 
    Speak on!  I am impatient.  But, first say
    That I shall then be worthier of love,—­
    When I have mastered all these subtle things
    That thou wilt love me better than this girl. 
    I’ll have thee for my teacher—­thee alone;
    She shall return to her gay, foreign home,
    Laded with many a costly gift from me;
    I’ll bid my warriors wait upon her steps,—­
    My North-Lights shall illuminate her way,
    No frost shall nip the redness of her cheeks,
    And no rude wind shall bluster round her feet.”

    “The frost of fear already nips her cheeks
    At thought of living separate from me;
    At the mere word she droops, a blighted flower. 
    Nay, gracious Queen? accept of both our hearts,
    And our united service,” BERTHO plead.

    Down on her knees sank Olive, bending low
    Her suppliant head, murmuring “Accept our hearts;”—­
    But the same beauty which had conquered WOLE
    Angered the jealous Queen; she could not brook
    The glistening of those unbound locks of gold;
    A pain, before unknown, stung her proud heart;
    While the fierce consciousness of absolute power
    Urged her to tyrannous deeds.  She waved her hand,
    And while her maidens shrank