The Rose of Dawn: A Tale of the South Sea

by Helen Hay Whitney

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.

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."