The Poetical Works | Page 9

down in pride?Had the Spirit of its waters so beautiful a bride!
Chorus of Indian Women.
Ah, Minahita! sister fair,?What lot with thine can now compare??'Mid all the daughters of our race?Peerless in beauty and in grace.?More blest than if in wifehood's pride?Thou stood'st at some young warrior's side,?Or with fair children round thy knee?Didst crown thy young maternity!
III.
MINAHITA.
My heart is throbbing with solemn joy,?May no earthly thoughts that bliss alloy,?By Sachems chosen and tribesmen all--?I gladly lead, and obey the call!
TOLONGA.
Ah, spoken well, my daughter, and worthy of thy sires,?Who've ever held an honored place around our council fires! My foot treads earth more proudly, my heart beats quick and high, To know that, like a Sachem's child, my daughter goes to die! Though Mamtou denied me a son to glad mine age,?To follow in the warpath when our foes fierce combat wage.?I offer him, with grateful heart, thanksgiving deep and warm That he has placed a warrior's heart within thy fragile form.
Aria.
Just sixteen spring-tides hast thou seen?Beneath the forest shade,?And ever sweet and mild of mien,?Like sunbeam hast thou played?Around my widowed home and heart--?Yet thou and I must quickly part.
As firmly as the towering oak,?Deep rooted in the earth,?Can brave the storm and thunder stroke,?So, even from thy birth,?Deep love for thee hath held my heart,?And yet, ungrieving, must we part.
And closely as the ivy clings?Around some forest tree,?Till from its glossy em'rald rings,?No bough or limb is free,?So art thou twined around my heart,?And yet, rejoicing, must we part!
IV.
OREIKA.
Alas, my sister, do not chide?That thoughts of grief, instead of pride,?Within my heart lie deep;?Fain would I speak with mien elate?Of thy predestined glorious fate,?And yet I can but weep.
When come the short'ning Autumn days,?While gathering in the golden maize,?I'll miss thy tender voice,?And when our merry maidens say:?"Oreika, join us in our play,"?How can I then rejoice?
And, oh! I will not grieve alone,?For when another moon has flown,?And Osseo will return,?Hopeful, to seek thee for his bride,?How deeply will his heart be tried?When he thy fate shall learn!
MINAHITA.
Enough, my sister, wouldst make me sad,?When my smile should be bright and my heart be glad??You know 'tis an honor to sire and race,?And to shrink from my lot would bring dire disgrace.?For no earthly love must I weakly pine,?I yield to a suitor of rank divine.?To my girlhood's love must I say farewell--?To the dreams that were sweeter than words can tell!?The chill embrace of the waters cold,?Clasping my form in their viewless hold,?Laving my brow in their terrible play,?Tangling my locks with their glittering spray,?Freezing my warm blood, stifling my breath,?With awful kisses that bring but death,--?To such endearments I now must go?Where my Spirit bridegroom dwells below.
OREIKA.
'Tis fearful, alas! and must it be?
MINAHITA.
What would'st thou?
OREIKA.
Flee, oh quickly flee!?Through secret paths seek Osseo's side,?Who will gladly welcome and shield his bride;?To far-off lands thou with him canst fly,?In mutual love to live and die!
MINAHITA.
Thou forgettest, my sister! An Indian maid?Not of death, but dishonor, should be afraid.?Thou did'st couple love with dear Osseo's name,?But love would be short-lived if joined with shame!?My father bowed 'neath dark disgrace,?My name a bye-word to all my race,?I would find no joy in my rescued life,?Dogged by remorse and inward strife,?Till, hiding myself from all friendly ken,?I should die, despised by both Gods and men.?No, sister, better an early grave?In yon lone dell where the pine-trees wave;?Better a fiery death at the stake,?While foes fierce sport of the captive make,?With cruelest tortures that man can frame,--?Thrice better, than life with dishonored name!
V.
TOLONGA, MINAHITA, DOLBREKA.
TOLONGA.
Daughter of a dauntless race,?Now draws nigh the solemn hour,?Which, O maid of childlike grace,?Well might make the bravest cower!?Thundering down the awful steep,?Hear Niagara's waters leap,?Tossing, surging, flecked with foam,?Child, my child, they call thee home!
MINAHITA.
I am ready! See, I wear?Wampum belt and garments gay;?Mark my smoothly braided hair,?Decked with shells and wild flower spray,?My wrists their silver circlets bear,?Polished with maiden's patient care;?Unshrinking from the stormy foam,?I'm ready for my wild, chill home!
DOLBREKA.
Girl, thou art a worthy bride?For Niagara's fierce King!?Men will think of thee with pride,?Maidens will thy courage sing,?Sachems tell of thee with praise,?Warriors on thee proudly gaze,?While pure and fair as ocean foam,?Thou passest to the Spirit's home.
Chorus of Indian Braves.
We have launched the light canoe?Upon Niagara's waters blue,?'Tis white and bright as an ocean shell,?Swifter than the sea gull's wing,?Worthy the hand that will guide it well,?Amid the foam wreaths the wild waves fling.
Chorus of Indian Women.
And it is freighted with fragrant flowers,?The brightest culled 'mid our forest bowers,?Fruits ripened beneath the sun's warm rays--?And silky tassels of golden maize,?And with them the maid who is doomed to bring?These gifts to the pitiless Cataract King.
Chorus of Male and Female Voices.
Fair are the flowers, but she's fairer far,?Lovelier she than the Evening Star,?Pure as