MINAHITA.
Tell him I loved him well, but honor more.
Chorus—Voices approaching.
The moon is gilding the Cataract’s brow,
And tinging his foam-robe as white as snow,—
Like silver it gleams
’Neath the bright moon beams,
Whilst soft and slow
The waters flow;
For his lovely bride he is waiting now!
OREIKA.
The hour is come! despair—despair!
TOLONGA.
Girl, such idle words forbear!
MINAHITA.
In the Spirit Land we shall meet again,
Where unknown are parting and grief and pain.