And round them, lost in drifts of snow,
The hills like blind guides seemed to go!
IV.
Yet still devout, through loss and doubt,
One woman's loyal heart—whose pain
Filled it with white celestial light—
Shone starry-constant like the North,
And sacred like a 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 launch d 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.
