V

Yet faithful still 'mid woe and doubt One woman's loyal heart--whose pain Filled it with pure celestial light-- Shone starry-constant like the North, Or that still radiance beaming forth From sacred lights in some lone fane. But he whose ring Jemima wore, By want and weariness all unstrung, Though strong and honest of heart and young, Shrank at the blast that pierced so frore-- Like a huge, invisible bird of prey Furious launched from Labrador And the granite cliffs of Saguenay!

Along the bleak Dead River's banks They forced amain their frozen way; But ever from the thinning ranks Shapes of ice would reel and fall, Human shapes, whose dying prayer Floated, a mute white mist, in air; The crowding snow their pall.

Spectre-like Famine drew near; Her doom-word hummed in his ear: Ah, weak were woman's hands to reach And save him from the hellish charms And wizard motion of those arms! Yet only noble womanhood The wife her dauntless part could teach: She shared with him the last dry food And thronged with hopefulness her speech, As when hard by her home the flood Of rushing Conestoga fills Its depth afresh from springtide rills!

All, all in vain! For far behind the invading rout These two were left alone; And in the waste their wildest shout Seemed but a smothered groan. Like sheeted wanderers from the grave They moved, and yet seemed not to stir, As icy gorge and sere-leaf'd grove Of withered oak and shrouded fir Were passed, and onward still they strove; While the loud wind's artillery clave The air, and furious sleety rain Swung like a sword above the plain!