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Copyright, 1901, by R. H. RUSSELL
University Press · John Wilson
and Son · Cambridge, U.S.A.
The ROSE OF DAWN
A TALE OF THE SOUTH SEA
1Somnolent, vast, inert, the darkness lay
Waiting for dawn. Across the ocean stirred
A luminous haze, not light, but whispering light,
So softly yet, the islands had not heard.
The mystery of sleep was in the trees
And on the weary stars. A little cry
That broke the silence seemed a sacrilege.
Then thro' the palm trees glided like a ghost
A dusky form; the curtain of the dark
Was rent with life, the forest brought forth men.
Waiting for dawn. Across the ocean stirred
A luminous haze, not light, but whispering light,
So softly yet, the islands had not heard.
The mystery of sleep was in the trees
And on the weary stars. A little cry
That broke the silence seemed a sacrilege.
Then thro' the palm trees glided like a ghost
A dusky form; the curtain of the dark
Was rent with life, the forest brought forth men.
Instinct with morning every eye was bright,
Tho' sleep so lately lay across their lids.
2No sinister intent had called them forth
Upon the shadows. May held out her hands,
And all the men who dared the dangerous sport
Were faring where the great bonita played,—
Strong shining fish below the mid sea waves.
Upon the beach beneath the paling moon
The boats were launched. Amid the busy stir
One man stood idle; as a chief might order,
He bade the youths prepare his long canoe.
With folded arms he gravely watched the rest
And gave them salutation haughtily.
Uhila[1] was he called, and in his veins
There ran a slender stream of northern blood.
He bore upon his old and indolent heart,
Scarred with the sins of war, a white device.
Taka, daughter of chiefs and Fiji's pride,
3Lily of maidens, was betrothed to him;
Tho' sleep so lately lay across their lids.
2No sinister intent had called them forth
Upon the shadows. May held out her hands,
And all the men who dared the dangerous sport
Were faring where the great bonita played,—
Strong shining fish below the mid sea waves.
Upon the beach beneath the paling moon
The boats were launched. Amid the busy stir
One man stood idle; as a chief might order,
He bade the youths prepare his long canoe.
With folded arms he gravely watched the rest
And gave them salutation haughtily.
Uhila[1] was he called, and in his veins
There ran a slender stream of northern blood.
He bore upon his old and indolent heart,
Scarred with the sins of war, a white device.
Taka, daughter of chiefs and Fiji's pride,
3Lily of maidens, was betrothed to him;
...