“Speak on!” imperially the Pole-Queen said,
    Charmed in her own despite, by that sweet face;
    While LIR-LIR to KOLONA leaned and smiled,
    Commending, in a whisper, what she saw: 
    And a soft flutter through the courtly train
    Stirred, like the shimmer of a moonlit breeze
    Kissing the waves:—­“I will thy message hear!”

    And so the maiden, gathering courage, said: 
    “Far in a blooming isle, in Southern seas,
    I had a home, whose walls, of marble cool,
    Were chequered by soft shadows, hovering,
    Like flocks of birds, about its battlements;
    For, all around, were trees, whose glistening leaves
    Danced ever, in the sunlight or the moonlight,
    To the soft flutes of the Arcadian winds;
    And to the sleepy music, drowsily
    The gorgeous flowers nodded their lovely heads. 
    Through the bright days, and in my sleep at night,
    I heard the ripples breaking on the sand,
    Till their continual murmur grew to be
    A thing of course,—­like sunshine and fresh air,—­
    Or like the love which grew into my life,
    As color into flowers when they unfold. 
    The fluttering foliage and the sighing waves
    Seemed whispering “BERTHO!” ever in my ear;
    For BERTHO was my lover, and my heart
    Could find no other meaning in their sound. 
    I was a princess of that blooming isle;
    But BERTHO—­he was poor! still, not so poor
    As brave, high-souled, and strangely venturesome. 
    He trusted to the sea to gain his wealth,
    As well as knowledge and a manly fame. 
    Ah! how I wept, when told that we must part! 
    How much more bitter tears I shed that day
    On which he left me, wretched, by the shore,
    Watching the gleam of his receding sails!

    “Dim grew the golden air from that dark hour. 
    Like some rich flower, torn from the wooing kiss
    Of the warm sun, and hidden in a cell,
    I drooped, and lost the redness of my cheeks. 
    All the wild thrills that used to come and go,
    Tumultuous, through my happy heart, and send
    The pulses flying through my frame, died out.

    “And thus in sadness two long summers passed. 
    In madness or in wisdom my poor brain
    Wrought out a vision in my troubled sleep,
    Through which I saw my BERTHO, and he bade
    My soul be still and fear not,—­I should take
    My little boat, in which I used to skirt
    The island shores, and loose it on the deep,
    Placing myself within it:—­It would come,
    By force of an unknown and magic current,
    (The thought of which, in speculative minds,
    Had long been cherished,) straightway to the shore
    Of the strange country where, enthralled, he dwelt. 
    If I still loved him, this would prove my love!