Hour after hour, I stay without? I know That they will seek me far and near, and weep To find me not. How could I, wickedly, Neglect the charge they gave me?" As she spoke, The hot tears started to her eyes; she knelt In the mid-path. "Father! forgive this sin; Forgive myself I cannot"--thus she prayed, And rose and hastened onward. When, at last, They reached the outer air, the clear north breathed A bitter cold, from which she shrank with dread, But the snow-maiden bounded as she felt The cutting blast, and uttered shouts of joy, And skipped, with boundless glee, from drift to drift, And danced round Eva, as she labored up The mounds of snow. "Ah me! I feel my eyes Grow heavy," Eva said; "they swim with sleep; I cannot walk for utter weariness, And I must rest a moment on this bank, But let it not be long." As thus she spoke, In half formed words, she sank on the smooth snow, With closing lids. Her guide composed the robe About her limbs, and said: "A pleasant spot Is this to slumber in; on such a couch Oft have I slept away the winter night, And had the sweetest dreams." So Eva slept, But slept in death; for when the power of frost Locks up the motions of the living frame, The victim passes to the realm of Death Through the dim porch of Sleep. The little guide, Watching beside her, saw the hues of life Fade from the fair smooth brow and rounded cheek, As fades the crimson from a morning cloud, Till they were white as marble, and the breath Had ceased to come and go, yet knew she not At first that this was death. But when she marked How deep the paleness was, how motionless That once lithe form, a fear came over her. She strove to wake the sleeper, plucked her robe, And shouted in her ear, but all in vain; The life had passed away from those young limbs. Then the snow-maiden raised a wailing cry, Such as the dweller in some lonely wild, Sleepless through all the long December night, Hears when the mournful East begins to blow. But suddenly was heard the sound of steps, Grating on the crisp snow; the cottagers Were seeking Eva; from afar they saw The twain, and hurried toward them. As they came With gentle chidings ready on their lips, And marked that deathlike sleep, and heard the tale Of the snow-maiden, mortal anguish fell Upon their hearts, and bitter words of grief And blame were uttered: "Cruel, cruel one, To tempt our daughter thus, and cruel we, Who suffered her to wander forth alone In this fierce cold!" They lifted the dear child, And bore her home and chafed her tender limbs, And strove, by all the simple arts they knew, To make the chilled blood move, and win the breath Back to her bosom; fruitlessly they strove; The little maid was dead. In blank despair They stood, and gazed at her who never more Should look on them. "Why die we not with her?" They said; "without her, life is bitterness."