Poem by Anne Bannerman

The Fisherman of Lapland

"DOST see by that rock, with its summit of snow,
Which the frost-ribbed billows are mining below;
'Twas there that one night,...to the tempest that came,
The ice-winds of Greenland were pow'rless and tame:

"Where the high-swollen Dwina redoubled the roar
Of the horrors that ravag'd on Archangel's shore,
'Twould have chill'd the best heart to have seen, on the main,
The fishers' small skiffs as they neared in vain:

"When in cliffs of the rocks, as midnight came on;
The torches were plac'd for a beacon that shone;
When afar stream'd the red-light ....and nought did it show,
But the foam-cover'd ocean that gulphed below.

"Mid the boats which the ice-isles had driven on the coast,
'Twas there that old Peter's of Lapland was lost;
For there it was seen, when the tempest came on,
And they saw but that rock...when its fury was done.

"And here hangs the tale !...If thy heart be not cold,
It will sigh as the fate of poor Peter is told;
Since his boat disappear'd, at yon perilous steep,
On the night of that storm on the terrible deep....

"'Twas at even, in the dusk !...scarce a sea-breeze would blow,
And the moans of the ocean were sullen and low,
That a traveller stopt, as he journey'd that way
From Ildega's forests to Archangel's bay.

"All faint was this stranger,...the night it fell fast,
And the plain, from the mountain, stretch'd gloomy and vast
Not a hut could he spy, for a shelter to crave,
Nor a sound broke the calm, but the sobs of the wave.

"One star, as it shone thro' the haze of the night,
Threw its line on the waters, so chilly and white;
In the wide path of the sky, but that star, there was none;
Like the wayworn traveller it journey'd alone ....

"It journey'd on high, until midnight or more,
When the full-flowing tide reach'd the rock on the shore,
'Twas then that the heart of that stranger gave way,
And long were the hours till the dawning of day ....

"On the top-cliff he stood,...when, gazing around,
A shadow there fell on the snow-cover'd ground;
Like the motionless form of a man it was there,
But no form could he see between and the air.

"The night-noon was deep,...yet, at distance descried,
Were the smoke-frosts, that rose from the rents of the tide.
The night-noon was deep,...but, between and the sky,
No figure could be unperceiv'd by his eye:

"The star flitted on,...till he saw it depart,
But that shadow was fix'd,...as the blood at his heart.
Around it, and round, he had ventur'd to go,
But no form, that had life, threw the stamp on the snow.

"Unmoving and still, as that terrible form,
He stood on the ice-ridges, cleft by the storm.
Thro' the night's lonely watches not once had he turn'd,
But the figure he saw not,...when feeling return'd :...

"This stranger, I heard !...his eye had you seen,
When he spoke of the place where the shadow had been;
That form on the snow, as he saw it imprest,
And the death-like, dull slumber, that fell on his breast.

"His eye had you seen, when I told of the night,
When the far-streaming torches were wav'd from the height,
When the skiffs on the wild-heaving ocean were tost.
And the rock, where old Peter of Lapland was lost;...

"Dost see where the thin mists are rising between,
On that summit it was where the stranger had been;
Where the shadow appear'd on the colourless snow;
And poor Peter's cold bed,...is the ocean below!"...

1. The Murcian Cavalier
2. The Perjured Nun
3. The Penitent's Confession
4. Prologue
5. The Festival of St. Magnus the Martyr

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