  Copyright, 1901, by R. H. RUSSELL University Press · John Wilson The ROSE OF DAWN Somnolent, vast, inert, the darkness lay Waiting for dawn. Across the ocean stirred A luminous haze, not light, but whispering light, So softly yet, the islands had not heard. The mystery of sleep was in the trees And on the weary stars. A little cry That broke the silence seemed a sacrilege. Then thro' the palm trees glided like a ghost A dusky form; the curtain of the dark Was rent with life, the forest brought forth men. Instinct with morning every eye was bright, Tho' sleep so lately lay across their lids. No sinister intent had called them forth Upon the shadows. May held out her hands, And all the men who dared the dangerous sport Were faring where the great bonita played,— Strong shining fish below the mid sea waves. Upon the beach beneath the paling moon The boats were launched. Amid the busy stir One man stood idle; as a chief might order, He bade the youths prepare his long canoe. With folded arms he gravely watched the rest And gave them salutation haughtily. Uhila[1] was he called, and in his veins There ran a slender stream of northern blood. He bore upon his old and indolent heart, Scarred with the sins of war, a white device. Taka, daughter of chiefs and Fiji's pride, Lily of maidens, was betrothed to him; Desirous eyes kinged him with envy's crown. [1] The lightning. Scraping across the beach the boats were launched, And as they touched the waves, they seemed to take New shape and dignity with that caress Of little lapping ripples round the prow. Uhila led the fleet as one who knew His right by reason of his age and skill. The little isle seemed now a sleeping maid Kirtled in green, the beach her snowy breast Veined with the purple brooks that sought the sea. Uhila watched it fade below the blue, Crouched in the bow, his grizzled chin in hand, Taking his ease, while small Kuma, keen-eyed, Famed for his daring, paddled lustily. The dawn had not yet broken, and the soft Beautiful haze that veils the birth of day Hung on the water. Loath to break the peace, Men gave their orders in hushed tones, the clean Chill of the morning wrapt their naked bodies. Then, as a slow blush mounts the cheek, a light Breathed from the sea, and all the air seemed warm As at the touch of spring, a violet streak, A pale leaf green, a golden, and a rose Broke in the sky, and morning was revealed. With a shrill cry, young Kuma raised his hand And pointed where with dip and shriek and wheel A flock of sea birds hovered; all the rest Echoed the call and bending to the paddle Shot o'er the waves, for now the fish were gained. Uhila grasped his rod, and at the stern Tossed out the shining hook, with laugh and cheer A glint of silver flashed, then all the air Was gemmed with streaming stars. They came from deeps; From azure fairer than its mother sky Clouded with dazzling whitenesses of foam. Luck to their fishing: Now, fair and remote A scattered emerald from a broken chain Lying below the bending breast of heaven, The village had awakened,—once again Serene Kambara, island of the south, Exhaled its light upon the light of heaven. The verdure seemed to shine with lucent green, The red hibiscus burned with inward flame, And in the village happy song and shout Proclaimed the day was fair. Blue upon blue The bright waves glittered like a shattered star Set in the silver crescent of the sand. The palm trees' plume uplifted dauntlessly To call the morning. At the forest's brim The day was made alive by human flowers, Sweet maidens who against the emerald Showed warm and brown in purest harmony. The fierce bright flame that is the tropic sea Burned on their eyes and called them to its heart. Like eager sea birds they forgot the land, And, happy as the amorous waves, they gave Their slim brown bodies to the sea's embrace. They found them driftwood and astride they leapt The feathered breakers, one with daring skill Curved her sweet length to lie within the palm Of a strong wave, and so was brought to shore. "Taka," they 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." "'T is 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, and the songs were stilled To hush of expectation. Even so A prince might come to claim his kingdom, lone, In a frail craft, with weary eyes, and hair Crowned with a fading wreath, more beautiful Than all their lovers, slender, strong and young. With one lithe spring he gained the yellow sand And caught the boat and drew it with a swing High on the beach,—its movement seemed alive. His sinewy fingers loosed the flapping sail, Gay shells clinked musical against the mast, And all the maidens, timorous as birds, Laughed at the sound with shy averted face. Then straight and slender as the cocoa palm, Straight as its shaft and crowned with shining hair, The stranger lifted up his head. The wreath, Faded yet still alive thro' ocean's breath, Drooped o'er his brows. His flashing sun-bright eyes Struck thro' the group of girls as shoots a dart, And caught and quivered in sweet Taka's breast. More noble than the rest, she scorned to fear, And graceful in her modesty she faltered, Then came to meet and greet the stranger guest. Erect she faced him, o'er her brow the frail Curves of the crest she wore, antennÆ-wise, Trembled a little. As a maid beseems, Her eyes drooped from his gaze, yet not too soon To miss the gleam with which he caught the first Flash of her beauty. With that glance he gained— Half conscious of a gladness—that this maid Was still for winning. As the custom is Her hair fell in twin braids, and were she wed They had been sacrificed to that estate. Maiden she was, his eyes caressed the sign Black o'er the topaz beauty of her breast. The stranger spoke. "Malua am I called; I hold for title Tui Tua Kau. Over the violent seas, beneath the frown, Cold and untoward, of a starless sky, The waves of chance have borne me; thro' the night Around me and above the pitiless trades Were blind with darkness, blown like maiden's hair Across my face. As palm trees beaten by wind, The tortured breakers tossed their streaming crests, And all the light of all my life seemed dead— Then—morning broke, and I behold the sun!"— He held her with his gaze and found her eyes— "On Tonga's shore I reigned a chief, and now I am a beggar at your mercy." Then The young pride mounting to his cheek, he cried, "Nay, but I jested, for I come so far To green Kambara for a lordly bowl Fit for the kava of a chief." She smiled, And with the smile Malua felt the blood Leap in his heart, his heart inviolate Never before so stirred 'neath woman's eyes. "Come, then, with me," said Taka, and the beach Stretched from their feet, a ribbon that should bind In its white length the heaven to the earth. With delicate step she led him to the hut Where old Akau gave him kindly greeting. A little in the shadow, where the gourds And strange sweet herbs—soft musty fragrances— Hung swinging from the beams about her head, Taka withdrew. Her wide eyes opened wide, And, lightly folded on her golden breast, Her two hands lay like flowers. In the light Bright as a sun god sat Malua listening With greatest reverence to the aged man, Who spoke to him of ancient, long dead things While he displayed his wealth of burnished cups Out of the splendid eld. "My son," he said, "Yours is dim future, mine the deathless past; Heroes have died for me and yet shall die, And all the glory of the virgin earth Yields up its sweets to me, for now I rest And stretch my withered sinews in the sun And wait for peaceful death; because your lips Are innocent, and dawn is in your eyes, I give you of my store the fairest treasure. After my Taka, you have won my heart." In his strong hand he laid a bowl; for this The ages had paid toll, soft lightnings shone From its brown glory, carved most royally. He raised the kava bowl aloft, the sun Struck on its shining rim, and straight as a spear Shivered the dusk where Taka stood. The light Lay on her swelling throat, and showed her eyes Starred like a tropic night. The stranger's hand Trembled a little, and his quick-drawn breath Carried a message from his breast to hers. They left the hut together. From the clear Bright heat of noon they turned, and took their way Into the greenly silent forest. Leaves Flickered above wet blossoms, simple sounds Of homely labor borne upon the breeze Made them the more alone. They spoke of Love, A mighty word to ease the strange new pain Born in their hearts. Sudden the path grew wide— A little space deprived of flowers and life— "The house of sandal wood," said Taka, pointing, And there, the last home of a chief, it lay. White shells and snowy pebbles girt him round In his great mould of clay, and all his spears And clubs of war kept vigil, showing still His might in battle. Shrill the parrot's scream Rang on the desolation, and the trees Seemed to withdraw their shadows from the place Sacred to death, the violent crime of war. A little shadow darkened Taka's heart, Could this sweet world contain both death and love? She sought Malua's eyes to be assured That love lives always. He had gone before To hold the leaves for her to pass, and softly She came, and like a golden butterfly Her small hand fluttered down upon his arm. He caught his breath as tho' the leaping blood That fled before this touch were very flame, Then slowly, slowly turned, and in her eyes Gave up his heart's desire. No word was said. She knew not that she loved, he only knew She was the moon of women; but their hearts, Wiser than they, had flowered into one. Then as she passed beneath the swinging leaves, He caught the wreath wherewith on Tonga's shore The maids had crowned him "King of Love and Beauty," And cast it from him with a high disdain Of token other than from Taka's hand. She laughed to see it, and her step was light Along the flowery way. Love in this land Grows into perfect stature as the swift Sweet growth of nature. In these gracious souls Love stood full-armed, godlike, from birth. Their lips Whispered of life and laughter, but their hearts, Singing together, told each other clear: "Ah, Love, dear Love, there is no need to say, Catch up life's song, its lightest, merriest word, Pledge deep the golden sun, the breeze and bird, Draw down long lashes over happy eyes, That none may guess the light that in them lies, Nor with what secret smile your lips are stirred. The moonlight is so short, so long the day, Nay, Love, dear Love, there is no need to say." The whole world laughed with flowers overhead, The sky a hollow sapphire ached with blue, The green bright sea gave jewels to the sun, And all the air was love that doting earth Breathed to the sun, her lover. In the midst Two radiant gods with brave, wide eyes, and hair Crowned with the beatific spring, they stood,— Taka, the fair, and young Malua, fierce, Passionate-hearted youth, and passionate youth; Faltering before her innocent gaze, he cried, "Dare I adore?" so crystal clear she seemed A silver dewdrop in the rose of dawn. And Taka, trembling: "How can he be mine, So strong, so fair, a god with heart of flame!" And so they strove against their hearts and lived Long lives of hope and fear and love's sweet pain Within a heart-beat. But the time was near! There in mid-forest, rimmed with leaves jade green, All singing in the sun,—as deep and brown As Taka's eyes,—the pool disclosed itself. Across the clear light of the morning, showers Of fiery jewels shone against the trees,— Rubies, bright sapphires, purple amethyst, Topaz, fierce opal, grass-green emeralds Flitting and darting;—were they only birds! Flower made bird or bird made flower, they seemed To eyes newborn upon a world of love. The air was heavy with strange scents, the old Familiar perfumes seemed so rarely sweet, The jasmine was the very breath of love. And when they rested on a flowery bank, And Taka wove the red hibiscus wreath To crown Malua, as he gazed at her, Stretched at her feet, his chin upon his hand, The whole long world had waited but for this. (Weaving the rosy wreath.) "My dream was of thee at sunrise With light steps over the sea. Lonely upon the mountain, I woke from my sleep for thee." (Weaving the rosy wreath.) "The wild dark rocks were round me, The flowery maids were gone; I woke, thou—bright as lightning Beside me—waited the dawn. "Weaving the rosy wreath, I weave my life in a dream. Thou camest through dawn on the sea, Red flower on a sunlit stream." (Weaving the rosy wreath.) She laid the scarlet wreath upon his hair. "My King," she whispered, and Malua's eyes— Boy, spite of all his battles—filled with tears Wrung from his burdened heart. He caught her hand; The lake was hushed with noon-tide, far away A fond bird starred the forest with a cry. Then Taka turned, and in her eyes a light— The light of summer moon in water still And in her face the glamour of moon and star, On which the crimson petals of her lips Lay trembling, eager wings to her new soul, Love was confessed. The day went swiftly on. Malua left her side to gather fruits For a love feast together. In a dream His heart had moved, and like a child he longed To prove it real by sweet familiar ways, Serving his fairest lady while their laughter Fell on the air like music. Taka, waiting On the green bank his coming, told her heart: "Not for his beauty only, tho' his eyes Burn into mine more beautiful than the night, Not for the corded muscle in his arm Which broke a great branch that would stay my path, Not for his voice, a murmur of soft seas, Nor all the gracious ways he knows so well, Not for his love that breaks within his eyes,— All these are dear, are dearer than my life, But for himself I love him," Taka dreamed. "To be his sister, nay, his mother then, To welcome him from hunting with my eyes, To fight his battles with the other women, To triumph in his triumphs, yet perchance Be happier if when vanquished he would come Safe in my arms for shelter. If I might But suffer for his sake and see him stand Stronger and happier—he should never guess— But I might sometimes touch his hair and know The curls that clung around my fingers mine, Bought by my pain as he, Malua, mine. Just so the heaven belongs to each small star Fixed by its gracious power eternally." Thro' the late afternoon Uhila came. The Earth was idle, on her knees her hand Opened, relaxed and empty, and her eyes Closed to the ardent sun. The village slept, Waiting for evening's cool. Uhila came; Over his shoulder like a silver shroud He brought the gleaming fish. The purple shadows Lay in soft pools about the palms; the leaves, Listless as weary love, hung motionless, And the hot green gave color to the air, The world viewed through an emerald. He came, And to Akau's hut he brought his gift, A mighty fish to grace the wedding feast. And where was Taka? All the gorgeous day She had been absent, old Akau told; And of the stranger, wanderer, with eyes Lit by the fires of youth, Akau told, Like a glad wind of morning bearing spring, Spring with the heart of summer, and his brow Crowned with the calm white flowers of innocence. Uhila knew, in days long past he too Had wandered thro' the forest in the glory And glow of youth. With mouth set stern and grim He followed to the pool. His heart was stirred With turbulent emotions. She was his,— Taka was his, the blossom that should cheer The winter of his age. His springing step Was stealthy as a tiger's, and the way Was clear before him. Rightly was he named The lightning; keen and cruel he would flash Into this sky of love, death in his hand. The path was strewn with little crimson flowers Scarlet festooned the trees, or was it blood That danced within his eyes? His thoughts were vague: Death, mercy, love, but strongest was desire Merely to see and satisfy his fear. Sudden he saw them, and he hid his eyes Before the sight, then strained to see again Taka, her arms piled high with blossoms, stood, An amber goddess of spring with flying hair Beneath a flower-bent branch, whose leaves had caught One of her sun-kissed curls. Malua watched her. Laughing, she would have torn away the tress And with the effort all the starry flowers Drifted like snow across their bended heads, But with a low cry he withheld her hand, And standing where she needs must turn to see His two arms o'er her slender shoulder laid, With fingers little used to gentler arts His timid touch unloosed her perfumed hair, Too near—for aught but that her curving throat Should be upturned to meet his sure caress, And all the blossoms drifted thro' the air And fell like blessings on their bended heads. |
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