“Long time he, gazing, stood;
    And when he turned, ’twas with so deep a sigh
    The sound awakened in me strange regret,
    Endless reproach, and grief before unknown. 
    Art angry with thy maiden, peerless Queen?”

    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