LOVE BENEATH THE SNOW. 339
from the Indians the hind from Oyster river to the Merrimack. If his sister was wife of Robert Tajje, he may have been from Ormsby, Norfolk; ancestor of President Samuel C. Bartlett, D.D., LL. D. 254. Anne ----; died June 24, 1689.
LOVE BENEATH THE SNOW.
BY ADDISON F. BROWNE.
Far up toward the sky-robed west.
When storm came hand in hand with night,
A weary traveller sought for rest;
But vainly searched along the height.
Until a mountain spruce was found.
Whose bossy form had been inclined
By angry charge of valiant wind,
So that its top caressed the ground.
But still, would not supinely lie ;
And arching from its root to stem.
With spreading boughs in thick supply.
Had wrought a cozy cavern realm,
0'er which the tempest beaten snow
Was spread in layers, hard and fine,
And formed a mound, with scarce a sign,
Its warm interior to show.
Still, he who roamed that dismal wild.
In nature's school, had been well taught.
And knew, beneath the snow thus piled.
Was hid the refuge which he sought.
Then, as he neared the ermine wall,
From space within there came a sound,
That spite of shouting gales around,
Surely expressed a human call!
With ready skill from trial learned.
An entrance way was quickly made;
When, by the snow-light he discerned,
Upon the fragrant leaflets laid,
One who in form and face revealed
A princess of that dusky clan.
Oft beaten by the white-browed man.
Till mountain glens became their shield.
Some mystic purpose of her tribe,
Unknown beyond their savage ways,
Had served this maiden to prescribe;
And so, ordained her vernal days
Should never grow to summer age;
But rather, that the girl must die
Where only eagles dare to fly,
And boreal demons ever rage.
So kinsmen bound the fated maid.
And left her in this cheerless bower.
Then sought once more their secret glade.
But e'er had passed a single hour,
Our rover came and cut her bonds, —
Then from his pack produced such food
As soon restored her wonted mood.
For thus our nature e'er responds.
Loud rang the wind around their nest!
Snow legions came, and hid its door
Beneath a hill, with sides and crest,
Through which, at length, the gale no more
Could send its hopeless melody.
Then all within grew still and warm, —
A summer air in winter's storm,
Ten thousand feet above the sea!
Then he, the strong philosopher,
Who told the lineage of rock and wood,
And every hazard would incur,
That nature might be understood;
Who knew the language of each tribe.
Sojourning near this noble land,
And chasms deep or highlands grand,
Could in most brilliant way describe;
And she — a monument of pride
That made her live for honor's sake,
And with an ardent zeal abide
All fiats that her people make.
Each drop of blood within whose veins
Came from a royal dynasty.
A race of souls whose fervor free
Was never chilled by coward stains. —
Surrendered to the gentle force
Of that soft prince who conquers all.
And passed the night in sweet discourse,
Without a thought of danger's call.
And ever since, their well-kept vows,
Repeating bright affection's chime,
Have sung the mem'ry of that time
They spent beneath the snow-clad boughs!
