his own icy land; no love can melt, no kindness bring it back to
sunlight and to joy. How then may we keep our frail blossoms
from his cruel spirits? Who will give us counsel? Who will be
our messenger for the last time? Speak, my subjects."

Then a great murmuring arose, and many spoke, some for costlier gifts,
some for war; and the fearful counselled patience and submission.

Long and eagerly they spoke, and their soft voices rose high.

Then sweet music sounded on the air, and the loud tones were hushed,
as in wondering silence the Fairies waited what should come.

Through the crowd there came a little form, a wreath of pure
white violets lay among the bright locks that fell so softly
round the gentle face, where a deep blush glowed, as, kneeling at
the throne, little Violet said:--

"Dear Queen, we have bent to the Frost-King's power, we have borne
gifts unto his pride, but have we gone trustingly to him and
spoken fearlessly of his evil deeds? Have we shed the soft light
of unwearied love around his cold heart, and with patient tenderness
shown him how bright and beautiful love can make even the darkest lot?

"Our messengers have gone fearfully, and with cold looks and
courtly words offered him rich gifts, things he cared not for,
and with equal pride has he sent them back.

"Then let me, the weakest of your band, go to him, trusting
in the love I know lies hidden in the coldest heart.