t shone on the glaciers tall.
I wandered from my chalet's hearth (the world was locked in sleep),
But something on my bosom made my soul a vigil keep.

I wandered on, I recked not where, for I was sad of mood,
Until upon the basement of a glacier grim I stood.
The moon peeped out behind the clouds, the scene was strange and
weird--
Like sheeted ghosts those icy rocks above me now appeared.

I cared not if I lived or died; my soul was sunk in gloom.
I'd little left to live for then; I almost sought my doom.
"We die but once," I inly said. "Death's certain, soon or late,
And I would just as lief it came, as still protract my fate."

I crunched the snow beneath my feet, and little recked of fear;
I trod the giant pinnacles (the night grew dark and drear),
Yet onward recklessly I strode, nor cared which way I went,
Until across this sea of ice appeared a mighty rent.

A horrid chasm, with below the torrent's deafening sound,
But with the madness of despair I cleared it with a bound.
A little onward still I stood (the scene was weird and grand),
A wondrous cavern wrought in ice by Nature's playful hand.

Its dripping arches overhung the cataract beneath,
Its pendant massive icicles appeared like dragon's teeth;
And lost in contemplation of this fearful yawning cave,
I deemed its chilly arches the recesses of the grave.

Anon the cave appeared when moonbeams would its depths illume,
A fairy hall of diamond, anon, a ghastly tomb.
And as I mused in phantasy, forgetting half my woe,
I wondered whether elves or ghouls their revels held below.

My blood ran chilled within my veins, a tremor shook my frame,
As, mingled with the torrent's roar, unearthly voices came.
Awhile I listened breathlessly, as louder still they grew;
The icy cave's inhabitants for ever nearer drew.

But one deep voice above the rest, in stern commanding tone,
That echoed through the cavern's walls, cried, "Silence, and begone."
Then, terrified, I scarce had time upon my feet to spring,
When, robed in icy majesty, there stood the Glacier King.

A mantle of the drifted snow bedecked his regal frame;
Upon his head a crown of ice, his sceptre of the same,
His hair and beard were icicles, his visage stern and pale,
His eyes like glacier caverns sunk, with look that made one quail.

W