The Rose of Dawn | Page 2

cried, "has beaten us;" and all,
Shaking the
bright drops from their shining hair,
With laugh and song sprang to
the beach again,
Sunning themselves to languor ere they made

Their pretty toilet.
Some had gathered flowers
In fragrant wreaths,
and others brought the grave
Work of the morning. Yet because the
wine--
Sun of the South--gilds even toil, it seemed
A poet's pastime.
Scarlet beans they threaded
Later to lie about some golden throat.

Deftly they wove fine mats, and deftly twisted
Bright witchery to
adorn themselves, and snare
Men's eyes. With little songs they
pearled the air.
Hush! it is Taka singing:--
"Far away
In a fountain dwelt a maiden;
When the silver moon was
high
She was glad, but heavy laden
Was she when its light must die.

Far away.
"Far away
Came a stranger brave to love her,
Loved her when the
moon was high;
When the moon was pale above her
Love grew
pale and like to die
Far away.
"Far away
From the fountain's mist he drew her

Happy while the
moon was high,
Waning, fled she, her pursuer
Held her back, and
saw her die
Far away."
"'Tis a sad song for morning," cried the maids--
"And for a bride.
Come, Hopa, sing of laughter."
Hopa sang:--

"Little brown streams,
Slim as my fingers,
Running and laughing

While the light lingers,
Have you no dreams,
Little brown streams?
"Little brown maidens,
Laughing and weeping,
Singing and
dancing,
All the night sleeping,
Have you no lovers,
Little brown
maidens?"
Afar there sounded in the mellow breeze
The rhythmic movement of
the maidens' toil;
Before them on the sand a snowy sheet
Lay
spread,--the tapa cloth; tutunga trees
Yield them their inner bark, and
lightly then
The maidens tap the fibres till they join,
Made firm
with scented gums and bright with dyes,
To form a fabric that a bride
might choose,
And this was for a bride. Among the rest
One maiden
shone; a moon beside her stars,
Taka, the fair. Her father was the
chief
Of this small village. His the splendid store
Of kava bowls for
which the isle is famed,
The shining fish-hooks, fairest of mother of
pearl,
Great mats from ancient days with border rare
Of crimson
feathers, cruel tragic spears,
Sweet unguents, necklaces of pearly
shells
Envied by maidens, and above them all
Bales of the snowy
tapa, made by hands
Subtle, wise hands of women, over whom
The
earth had long laid flowers.
In the land
Where history is but a charming tale
Droned by old men
at twilight, future days
Pleasantly certain as the next repast,
Where
gods and goddesses appear as birds,
Trees, plants or moonlight,
gently rising tide,
And shining girdle of leaves,--all homely things,

Which hold the people's hearts.--In this fair land
Taka was born.
Thro' sixteen years of moon
And tropic sun she blossomed in the air.

Chilled by no frost, the world unconsciously
Mirrored her
sweetness back to her. The sun
Had kissed her skin to a warm topaz;
rare
As dusky wealth of Autumn, her sweet breast,
Gleaming and
bare, was hung with ropes of flowers
Yellow and white, and in her
curling hair
Glimmered the pure gardenia. All the braves
Wished
her for wife, but old Akau the chief,
Knowing Uhila's prowess and

the blood
Left by an English forbear in his veins,
Knowing that
Taka too could boast, or mourn,
A foreign ancestry, had lately
pledged
His daughter to this brave, and now the village
Made
preparations for the marriage. There
By the warm sea the maidens
paid their court
To Taka, who so soon would leave their gay

Indifferent frolic lives to wed the grave
Stern chief. She did not falter
at the choice.
Love which the maidens sang was but a word;
She
wished no better fate than to be mated
To a strong warrior whom her
heart held dear
As friend to kind Akau. So she waited.
In her slim
hands she held a polished cup,
The shell of cocoanut, which caught
the light
Like a brown pool. The toil of many days
Had turned the
tawny shade to warmest black
In gradual depths as shaded Taka's
cheek;
With perfumed oil her fingers gave caress
And waked the
hidden pictures in the grain,
The yellow sand, the dusky amber girl,

The brown perfected in the shining globe.
Earth's monotones are
justified in this.
Close to her lolled small Hopa, blithe and gay
As a
young cricket, teasing all the rest
With her sharp wit; often she
dropped her work--
The threading of bright flowers into wreaths--

To look across the waves, and suddenly
She called, "A sail, a little
sail," and all
Followed her pointing fingers. Far away,
Tossed like a
feather, black against the sky,
Hovered a tiny craft, its unknown lines

Marked it as stranger, and the maidens all
Curiously watched its
coming to the shore.
All night the little shell with ceaseless dip
And pause, and rise and
dip again, had borne
The trackless trade winds. Tui Tua Kau,
"King
of the Reefs," had ventured over far
From Tonga's shore. Caught by a
wanton gale,
His idle racing, lengthened in a whim

To cheat his
laughing mates, grew a wild flight.
The frail canoe seemed, on the
angry sea,
A sweet rose petal blown across the night.
Yet wisely
now the winds had mind to crown
Their joyous undertaking, and
upon
The shores of Fiji's isles they drew their prize.
The maidens
on the shore had seen afar
The stranger's coming,