The Rose of Dawn | Page 5

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.
Uhila bore no more; his heart was great
With unshed tears; their
beauty and their love
Touched like soft music on his injured soul

With infinite sadness and a hopeless calm.
He left them there and
sought the forest shades
To search his heart. A great nobility
Slept
in his native breast, and those pale drops
Of northern blood had
taught him self-control
And might of mercy. To and fro he paced,

Learning his lesson. Taka, little moon
Sent by the gods to light his
loneliness,
Was his no longer. He must twist his heart,
Wried with
grim pain, to smiles of pleasantness.
Ah, it was great. Uhila should be
great,
Giving her to Malua as a gift,
Showing Akau how he wished
no more
To wed so young a maid, and then the tears
Broke from his
eyes and burned his throbbing breast.
Homeward he turned, and all
the sleepy birds
Twittered good-night--and almost was he glad.
In
the cool green of evening, silent now
Save for their beating hearts, the
lovers came
Back to the village. In the stranger's honor

The people
made a feast. The air was filled
With busy sounds of preparation.
Some
Brought driftwood for the fires, some gathered flowers
To
deck themselves, and all the fruitful earth
Was robbed of its delights
for beauty's sake.
Before the feasting Chief Akau rose,
Grave and
majestic, for the evening prayer;
Pouring libation from the kava bowl


In a deep silence, to the gods he cried,
"Take of our offering, O you mighty gods,
Look on this people kindly,
let them prosper
In health and increase. Let the fecund ground

Grant us, your creatures, life to serve you well.
Take of our offering,
O you gods of war,
Let men be brave and triumph in your name.

Take of our offering, O you gods of sea,
Spare us your wrath, and in
your might depart
Along the ocean to some far off shore.
Take of
our offering, all you mighty gods."
The feasting ended, round the fires they gathered,
Wise aged men
telling anew their tales
Of youth, sweet purposeless youth which
dreams of stars
The while it gathers weeds--of battles dire.
Their
thin cold blood warmed with grim memories
Of gods they told, of
goddesses with hair
Streaming across the sunset, and of dear

Women long dead, and then the maidens came,
Singing their little
songs. One sang of love:
"The breath of spring is in his hair,
He needs no crimson necklaces

To win the favor of the fair.
"The full moon leaned to kiss his eyes,
The fairies brought him purple
flowers,
The flowers of love, and made him wise.
"The maidens die for