Od in her path and seemed to bar her way. Four months of darkness in
the valley slept, Freezing in silent
dreams; the Moon did crown The hoary brow of the old headland, Thug,
With a dim glory, as of silver locks:-- It held
its head aloft and seemed
to be Peering through heaven's roof upon its God. "Ah, BERTHO! BERTHO!"
the young traveller cried, While rapid tears ran down her
grief-touched cheeks:-- "Is there no way save this? My feet refuse To
do the bidding of my heart; no more This faithful
bosom thy delight
shall be-- No more thine eyes shall smile into mine own Till both
swim full of bliss--no more thy mouth Breathe its soft words and kisses
on my cheek, Naming me thine--thine only--thine forever! Where art
thou, BERTHO? BERTHO! Cruel Thug; Sink thyself in the sea, presumptuous
mount, Till I can pluck my lover from thy breast!" The echo of her
heart did mock her cry; Long time,
she lay, half perished, on the snow, Till love revived, with
its eternal fires, The warmth of purpose in her chilly breast;
Then, springing to her feet, she shook
her curls, In golden billows from
her brows, the while
That a sweet resoluteness on her lip Settled itself, and triumphed in
her eyes:-- "Torrent nor precipice, nor jutting crag-- Night, spirits,
ghouls, nor ravenous wild beasts, Distance, nor time, shall fright me
from the way," She said, and silently began
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