The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser.
London, England, 1821-09-06 00:00:00

7

till! MOUNTAIN Ito.
N no AI. * "—NM Slam)
One he surprised that the legendary lore of Swede's sbeald
be se little knew, to the reel of Europe; for, although it I.
a country lees explored by travellers than say other so far
adraaead in eivilisatioe, them I. a penetrating spirit in po-
pular poetry, that usually gambles it I. make its way, under
every disadvantage.
The inaiiinsts in the following tale are likes from au old
Swedish. ballad, &minded os a superstition comma in as.
eieet times to that country and our own; the mythology of
both amities howbeit peopled the interior of their mountains
with a powerful, vindictive, and mysterious race—objects
always of terror, and sometimes of unwary love, but usually
fatal to those by whom 4hey were not sedulously shinnied.
" Open, open, green hill, and let a fair maid in," with the
subsequent admittance of the damsel, according to her invo-
cation, in one of our nursery-tales, is evidently akin to the
fate of Isabel.
THE MOUNTAIN KING.
She beard the bell toll, and went forth at the dawn—
It is not to matins the maiden is gone:
The mother believes that her child went to pray—
No prayer did fair Isabel utter that day.
Where, through the grey twilight, did Isabel go ?
•las ! to the mountains wish helmets of snow,
Mow dirk brows seem to frown o'er the laurel and rose
Tbat no lovingly under their shadows repose.
On the highest of hills did fair Isabel rest,—
Her delicate Angers have tsppedat its breast;
Rise, King of the mountains! unbar thy green door,
I have seen thee iu dreams ! I must see thee ones mote."—
" Cease, Isabel, cease! I refuse for thy sake;
Thst maid is my bride who behold@ me awake :
And some cruel infi dime the Fates ever bring
To her who espouses the pale Mouistsia-king."—
Let my fate be the darkest thy caverns have seen,
I will brave all its horror* to move as thy Queens
Then rise ! Mountain-monarch! unbar thy green door,
I must gaze on thy terrible beauty once more."—
The lightning flsah'd blue, and the thunder spoke load,
The sun was obscured by en ominous cloud ;
The doors of the mountain, in darkness and storm,
Flew open—and closed over Isabel's form.
In a palace of splendour, received me a Queen,
A rich robe is clasp'd round her by handmaids unseen;
And the gems of her crown are selected to vie
With her sunshine of smile, and her soul-speaking eye.
Sweet voices, responsive, breathe softly around,
And pour on her name all the treasures of sound—
Now harmoniously blending, stow pearly and bright,
Falls each delicate note, like a drop of pure light.
Now they linger and fade, like a lover's last sigh,
And now the full chorus floats proudly on high,
Where, like Iris in Cue, shedding odours divine,
Lamps motorised with perfumes eternally shine.
But the wild rush of hope that check'd Isabel's breath
Closed her ear to soft tunes, like the dull ear of death ;
And she msrk'd not the splendour that glitter'd around,
Her eye sought but one object—her ear bet sound.
'Twos a moment, no more—yet seem'd ages to fleet,
Fee the pale Mountain-monarch sppesr'd at her feet;
He knelt at her feet, and lie whisprr'd soft vows—
Words, man dare not utter, have made her his spouse.
His subjects are thronging with look, of surprise,
And fix un her face their Inquisitive eyes;
They drew near with respect, yet she meet them with awe,
For a likeness in each to their monarch she saw.
And wb ee she turned, some lines were impress'd
Of the visage imprinted so deep in her breast;
So sweetly majestic—so mildly severe—
That her tremulous love often thrill'd into fear.
But he calms her in whispers, sod gems her dark hair
With treasures, and wonders—the beauteous—the tare—
Sought in darkest recesses of desolate eaves,
Paved with jasper, and tweed with deep-flowing waves.
Her life one smooth ocean of boundless repose,
Without chauce, change, or time, like eternity shews,
Save that eight smiling infants successively shine,
Flashing star after star, in their beauty divine.
When she drank the deep love of their fathomless eyes,
Peeling Heaves% own breath in their infautine sighs,
These itteffahle stirrings of nature awaken
The deepest remorse fur a mother forsaken.
In the full tide of passion dial Isabel Bang
Her fair form at the feet of the pale Mountain-Iday.. •
" A buoa from my lord moil my husband I crave,
Let me kiss mitred mother, or weep o'er her grave."
" Then go to thy mother—in sadness bereft,
But say not • word of the babes thou hart left."—..
Soon was Isabel liick'd in a parent's embrace,
And the tears of forgiveness fell fast on her face.
" Oh! remain, my lost bird, in the haunts of thy youth,
Nor again flee the precincts of honour and troth ;
Though the gardens of Error are perfumed with lowers
The adder and snake lie cureceard in her bowers."
" With the blushes asinine had her cheek ever bared,
To her home bsd fair Isabel never rettorn'd;
By the King of the Mountain, selected as Queen,
The truest and fondest of wives have I bees.
" In his realms neither sorrow nor sickness appear—.l
had nearly forgot—alumni lowg'd fur—a tear;
And our bridal is blest by the bounty of Heaven—
I have one peerless daughter—my suss they ate seven."
Then strode o'er the threshold the pale Mountain-king
" Why Blandest thou here, thus presuming to Bing
Such aspersions on me as I neer can forgive'
The revealer of secrets d not to live."
" Nu aspersions on thee have these lips ever thrown,
I have dwelt on thy hive awl thy kindness alone."
Thou hest meuttou'd the babes with thy vegetating breath,
Thou fool! that vain boast lass coudesmed them to death.
" Forewern`d, thou bast broken the merciful spell
That permits in our palace those children to dwell,
Whose existence has never been whisper'] on earth—
! accursed the hour I rejoiced in their birth !"
Then he struck her fair face as she knelt at his feet—
" Oh! the death-blow," she cried, " from tby hauds will be
sweet!
Since the deep chords of love thins mysteriously thrill,
While I suffer iu patieuce resigai'd to thy will."
" In this ill-fated mansion no more shalt thou stay,
Where thy crime, was committed : away! then—away!"
" Farewell, my dear father; farewell, my fond mother!
Farewell, weeping sister ! foreseen, inlaid brother !
a Farewell, ye high Heavens! farewell, thou green earth!
And farewell, thou sweet home, the dear place of my birth !
For the King of the mountains I left ye before,
And fur bum, in his anger, I leave ye once more."
•
Horrid laughter appears in the hlousrch's dark face,
While nine circles around the tall mountain they trace--
Alai the tears on fair Isabel's bosom fell fast,
As smaller each circle became than the last.
The glad sun in the blue depths of heaven shone bright
As she gaspingly sought the last ray of its fight;
Her young daughter beheld her with terror o'eresst—
" Oh, mottos', dear mother! repose thee at last.
a Beneath this gold canopy lay thy pale head,
Where cushions of crimson profusely I've spread."
" My child ! give me wane—bring the cup of my death—
Then close my sad eyelids—receive my last breath."
" A more tender farewell thy poor soother would take,
But fears, my sweet daughter ! tby young heart %would
break."
She drank—and to ice a more warm heart-was ebill'd,
'Flom by love's richest treasures had ever been fill'd.
Thus from home and from happiness Isabel stray'd
And thus the pale Monarch her passing repaid;
Like a hly she mink when a pitiless shower
Has unsparingly beat on the delicate flower.

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M. A. I.

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