by C.E.M. Secretan.
Originally published in The Poet's Magazine (Leonard Lloyd) vol.2 #9 (May 1877).
'Midst Arctic seas and frozen bergs,
With frosty veil around her flung;
Sits the Ice maiden, monarch still,
As poets long ago have sung.
Alone and unapproachable,
She waits, the Witch Queen of the North,
With icy finger beckoning,
Luring her fearless seamen forth.
And though full many a mariner
Has woo'd her in her cold retreat,
Has braved the bitter Northern seas,
And laid his life down at her feet.
Though "hearts of oak" have ventured forth,
And perished whom we ill could spare,
The heartless Maiden of the North,
Still sits and smiles at our despair.
Unwon, though sought by suitors bold,
From other lands beside our own;
Unwon, despite the lavish gold,
Which men before her feet have strown.
Last year a brave band left our shores,
For fields where foot of man ne'er trod,
They went with faithful hearts and free,
Where none could greet them but their God.
They braved the bergs, and sailed the seas,
They strove to cross the frozen main;
The Witch Queen waved her shadowy hands,
As if to bid them try again.
Again they strove with desperate will,
That Icy Maiden's throne to reach;
And more than one lay down to die
On that inhospitable beach.
'Twas all in vain their efforts brave,
And all their deeds of daring done;
The icy veil still wraps her round,
The Polar Maiden's "still unwon."