The Rose of Dawn | Page 3

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