A morning crowns the Western hill,
A day begins to reign,
A sun awakes o'er distant seas—
Shall never sleep again.
The world is growing old,
And men are waxing wise;
A mist has cleared—a something falls
Like scales from off their eyes.
Too long the "Dark of Ignorance"
Has brooded on their way;
Too long Oppression 's stood before,
Excluding light of day.
But now they've found the track
And now they've seen the dawn,
A "beacon lamp" is pointing on,
Where stronger glows the morn.
Since Adam lived, the mighty ones
Have ever ruled the weak;
Since Noah's flood, the fettered slave
Has seldom dared to speak.
'Tis time a voice was heard,
'Tis time a voice was spoken
So in the chain of tyranny
A link or two be broken.
A tiny rill will swell a stream,
A spark will cause a flame,
And one man's burning eloquence
Has help'd to do the same.
And he will persevere,
And soon that blaze must spread,
Till to the corners of the earth
Reflecting beams are shed.
The "few" will try to beat it down,
But can they stop the flood—
Bind up the pinions of the light,
Or check the will of God?
And is it not His will
That deeply injured Right
Should overthrow the iron rule
And reign instead of Might?
The Old Year
It passed like the breath of the night-wind away,
It fled like a mist at the dawn of the day;
It lasted its moment, then backward was hurled,
Another increase to the age of the world.
It passed with its shadows, its smiles and its tears,
It passed as a stream to the ocean of years;
Years that were coming—were here—and are o'er,
The ages departed to visit no more.
It passed, but the bark on its billowy track
Leaves an impression on waters aback:
The glow of the gloaming remains on the sky,
Unwilling to leave us—unwilling to die.
It fled; but away and away in its wake
There lingers a something that time cannot break.
The past and the future are joined by a chain,
And memories live that must ever remain.
Tanna
(The Kanaka's Death-Song over his Chieftain.)
Shades of my father, the hour is approaching.
Prepare ye the 'cava' for 'Yona' on high;
Make ready the welcome, ye souls of Arrochin.
The Death God of Tanna speaks—Yona must die.
No more will he traverse the flame sheeted mountain,
To lead forth his brothers to hunting and war;
No more will he drink from the time honoured fountain,
Nor rise in the councils of Uking-a-shaa.
His voice in the battle, loud thunder resembling,
Has died like a zephyr o'errunning the plain;
His whoop like the tempest thro' forest trees trembling,
Shall never strike foemen with terror again.
The 'muska' hung up on the cocoa is sleeping,
And Attanam's spirits have gathered a-nigh
To see their destroyer; and, wailing and weeping,
Roll past on the night-breathing winds of the sky.
The lines are suspended, the 'muttow' is broken,
The canoe's far away from the water-wash'd shore,
Mourn, mourn, ye 'whyeenas', the word has been spoken,
The chieftain can bring ye the 'weepan' no more.
Ye cloud-seated visions, ye shades of my fathers,
Awake from your slumbers, the trumpet blast blow;
The moments are flying, the mountain mist gathers,
And Yona is leaving his camp fire below.
. . . . .
The struggles are over, the cords are asunder,
Ye Phantoms hold forward your heavenly light,
Speak on the wings of the sky-shaking thunder,
And fill him with joy on the path of his flight.
Come downwards a space thro' the fogs till ye meet him,
Throw open the doors of Arrochin awide,
And stand on the thresholds, ye Shadows to greet him—
The glory of Tanna, the Uking'shaa's pride.
Thanks, spirits departed!—heard I not your voices
Faint rolling along on the breath of the gale?
Thanks, spirits departed! Le-en-na rejoices:
Ye've answered the mourner—ye've silenced the wail.
The midnight is clearing; the Death-song is ended.
The Chieftain has gone, but ye've called him away;
For he smiled as he listened, obedient ascended,
The voice in his ear, and the torch on his way.
Tanna is one of the largest islands in the group known as the New Hebrides.
The natives of it, in common with all their South Sea brethren,
are generally titled by the whites "Kanakas". They are of the negro family,
resembling in feature, very closely, the Feejee tribes. It is said that
they believe in the existence of a Superior Being, whose earthly dwelling
they fancy is in the burning volcanoes for which the island is remarkable.
They believe in a future happy state, and call their heaven "Arrochin".
They are divided into small tribes or clans; the largest of these
are the Ukingh-a-shaa and Attanam families. A spirit of rivalry
between these two last-mentioned often causes long and bloody wars
all over the island.
Tanna, besides the never-sleeping volcano, has its other objects of interest
in the many boiling springs that surround the base of the burning mountain.
Some of these are held as holy, and none but chiefs are permitted
to taste their waters. Such restriction, however, does not extend over all.
When any of their great warriors die, the aborigines believe that
the spirits of Arrochin prepare a great feast there for their coming guest,
and for fear he should lose himself on the road thither they (the spirits)
call to him and blow trumpets, sending some one at the same time with torches
to meet him and guide him on his way to those blessed regions.
Explanation of Native Words:
"Arrochin"—Heaven. "Cava"—a drink extracted from a root.
(The natives believe it is made and drunk in Arrochin where it grows
as in Tanna). "Muska" (corruption of the English term, musket)—
of late their chief weapon in war. "Muttow"—a fishing-hook.
"Whyeena"—woman (this is not the original native appellation;
that I could never ascertain). "Weepan"—Fish (their principal food).
"Leenna" and "Yona"—native names.—H.K.