Unknown / 2008-09-11 00:00:00
The Moon alone was kind to the poor child,
Shedding its softest lustre round her feet.
Near half way up the mount she may have passed
When a fierce growl smote on her frightened ear,
As, from the shadows bounding, came a beast,
Grizzly, ferocious, snapping its sharp tusks:--
So close it came she felt the hungry breath
Rushing in fiery vapor from its mouth,
She sprang aside, then fled; but steep the path,
And sinking fainting, to the ground, she sighed--
"This is the last! BERTHO! Ah, me! farewell!"
"Nay, not the last! thou'rt not dead yet, my dear!
Look up, thou fairy, or thou mortal child--
I scarce know which--assure thyself of life.
Look up! look up! It cannot be I see
Before me, in this region of dispair,
A veritable mortal?"
By his voice
Recalled to life, the trembling girl arose.
Before her stood a man; and in his hand
A spear that dripped with her pursuer's blood.
With still unconquered terror of the brute
She turned her head.
"Fear nothing, thou sweet child;
But if thou art what now thou dost appear,
A creature of that world from whence I come,
Let me but hear thy voice--but hear one word
Of my blest country's language, and I'll deem
The service I have done thee with this spear
Naught in comparison. Speak, quickly speak!"
"What shall I say, but thank thee for my life?
I am a maiden from far Southern climes
Come searching for my lover.
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