X.
OREIKA.
Ah! the cruel rite is over
And the fearful Spirit Lover
Clasps the dear pearl of our race;
Like the blushing summer flower,
Or the clouds of sunset hour,
She has passed, and left no trace!
DOLBREKA.
Thou wast not there? Then listen, child,
Unto a tale of sorrow wild,
That has o’erwhelmed with gloom and grief
Heart of warrior brave and chief:
Rose from the banks the sound of song,
Lights were gleaming the trees among,
All were awaiting the hour of fate
When the white canoe and precious freight
From shore swept out and swiftly sped
Into the boiling rapid dread—
OREIKA.
Ah me! in that last moment drear
How looked she?
DOLBREKA.
Tranquil, without fear,
But steered her course with quiet mien,
And the stately grace of a maiden Queen.
Then rose beneath the moon’s full rays
Glad voices, blent in love and praise,
Till, sudden as arrow from the bow,
Flashed ’mid the rapid’s dark, swift flow
Another bark—it held—oh grief!
Tolonga, our brave, Beloved chief.
OREIKA.