Of other seas, and every snowy hall,
And every citadel by frosts upreared,
Were lighted with wild splendors, as the troupes
Of messengers rushed swiftly to and fro.
The people of the Arctics knew their Queen
Summoned her subjects to the Presence then
By wavering tints which played beneath the Star,
And the great speed with which the North-Lights flew.
They hurried even to the Temperate Zone.
A band of phantom spirits took wings and flew
Far to the southern sky, a fluttering crowd.
A warrior, yellow garbed, with fiery spear,
Bestrode a frantic steed, and looked not back
Till he alighted on a distant hill.
With scintillant flames some perched on towers remote
Or bore green banners o'er the mirroring sea,
Or flitted through dim valleys, bright and fast,
Casting their flickering shadows down the deep
And awful solitudes of Arctic lands.

Such of her people as had aught to ask
Of favor or redress, from air and earth,
Came now, bringing petitions, councils, gifts.
Some slid on twinkling star-beams through the air,
Some sailed in shallops over the light waves,
And all who came had presents for their Queen,--
Rare tints which they had caught just as the Moon
Peered o'er the shoulder of the mighty Thug.--
Those dwelling in the caverns of the sea
Brought up the gayest jewels they could find,