SCENE IV.
Reading edition
Near sunset—a dreary, desolate region, surrounded with ice-mountains—the Hunter drives a sledge rapidly forward, in the back part of which sit Olaf and Paolo.
Olaf. Where is this wild? I know not where thou drivest! Hunter. Below our feet lies the eternal ice Of the great sea! Olaf. Our prey abides not here! Hunt. We’ll find enough, anon! Olaf. Thou dost not know The track on which thou go’st.—Here only dwells The gaunt and savage wolf! and hark—even now I hear their bark! Paol. Oh, are there wolves a-nigh? Hunt. Ay, they are nigh, look in that black abysm, It is a wild wolf’s den! Olaf. Thou braggart hunter, Is this thy wondrous skill? Wheel round the sledge Before the horse is maddened with the cry! There is no time to lose! Pull in the beast! Hunt. It will not do—the wolves are now upon us! Paol. Oh father, save me! save me, dearest father! Olaf. Let go my cloak—they shall not hurt thee, child! [to the hunter.] Thou cursed man!—Dost see these savage beasts, And yet sit grinning there, as thou had’st done A piece of hunter-craft! Hunt. You carry arms— Cannot you fire upon them? They will gorge Upon each other, and be pacified! Olaf. If they taste blood, they will be more ferocious— And thou knowest well, we have not ammunition For such a strife! yet will I fire upon them, Their savage barking will bring others down.
[He fires.
Paol. Oh horrid! how they tear each other’s flesh. Olaf. Now hurry forward, for our only hope Lies in out-speeding them! Paol. Let us go home! Olaf. Again they are upon us—their gaunt jaws Dropping with blood, which they lick evermore! Now for another slaughter! Hunt. ’Tis in vain, For right and left, yet other packs are coming! Paol. Oh father, father, they will be upon us! And I shall never see my mother more! Hunt. Peace, brawling child! Olaf. My poor, dear boy, be still. Paol. I will, I will, dear father! Olaf. [To the hunter.] Cursed murderer. His blood will be upon thy head! Hunt. Indeed! Who forced him from his mother ’gainst his will? Olaf. Most strange, inhuman wretch! Hunt. Nay, use thy gun, ’Twill do thee better service than thy tongue! Olaf. [aside.] Please heaven I live, I’ll pay thee for this hunt, Wages thou didst not ask!
[He puts his last charge into his piece.
This is the last— When this is done, there is no other hope But in our flight! He fires. Now heaven must be our helper! On, on, spare not the thong!
[The horse in dashing forward, breaks from the sledge; the wolves fall upon him instantly.
Olaf. Now must we fly! Hunt. There is a hut among these icy deserts Raised by some hunters. While they gorge themselves We may escape. Paol. Take, take my hand, dear father! Olaf. How cold it is, poor boy!
[They turn among the ice-mountains, and soon are out of sight.