The Indian Princess Part 12

LARRY. In the shape of water, honey.

WALTER. A notable discovery; come away!

LARRY. Ha! isn't that a sail?

WALTER. A sail! a fleet! [_Looking toward the river._

_Enter TALMAN._

TALMAN. We have discovered nine tall ships.

LARRY. Discovered!

Away, you rogue, we have discovered them, With nature's telescopes. Run--scud--begone-- Down to the river! Och, St. Pat, I thank you!

_Go toward river. Huzza within. Music expresses joyful bustle. Scene closes._

SCENE II. _A grove._

_Enter ROBIN and NIMA._

ROBIN. Aye, bless you, I knew I should creep into your heart at last, my little dusky divinity.

NIMA. Divinity! what's that?

ROBIN. Divinity--it's a--Oh, it's a pretty t.i.tle that we lords of the creation bestow upon our playthings. But hist! here they come. Now is it a knotty point to be argued, whether this parting doth most affect the mistress and master, or the maid and man. Let Cupid be umpire, and steal the scales of Justice to weigh our heavy sighs. [_Retire._

_Enter ROLFE and POCAHONTAS._

PRINCESS. Nay, let me on--

ROLFE. No further, gentle love; The rugged way has wearied you already.

PRINCESS. Feels the wood pigeon weariness, who flies, Mated with her beloved? Ah! lover, no.

ROLFE. Sweet! in this grove we will exchange adieus; My steps should point straight onward; were thou with me, Thy voice would bid me quit the forward path At every pace, or fix my side-long look, Spell-bound, upon thy beauties.

PRINCESS. Ah! you love not The wild-wood prattle of the Indian maid, As once you did.

ROLFE. By heaven! my thirsty ear, Could ever drink its liquid melody.

Oh! I could talk with thee, till hasty night, Ere yet the sentinel day had done his watch; Veil'd like a spy, should steal on printless feet, To listen to our parley! Dearest love!

My captain has arrived, and I do know, When honour and when duty call upon me, Thou wouldst not have me chid for tardiness.

But, ere the matin of to-morrow's lark, Do echo from the roof of nature's temple, Sweetest, expect me.

PRINCESS. Wilt thou surely come?

ROLFE. To win thee from thy father will I come; And my commander's voice shall join with mine, To woo Powhatan to resign his treasure.

PRINCESS. Go then, but ah! forget not--

ROLFE. I'll forget All else, to think on thee!

PRINCESS. Thou art my life!

I lived not till I saw thee, love; and now, I live not in thine absence. Long, Oh! long I was the savage child of savage Nature; And when her flowers sprang up, while each green bough Sang with the pa.s.sing west wind's rustling breath; When her warm visitor, flush'd Summer, came, Or Autumn strew'd her yellow leaves around, Or the shrill north wind pip'd his mournful music, I saw the changing brow of my wild mother With neither love nor dread. But now, Oh! now, I could entreat her for eternal smiles, So thou might'st range through groves of loveliest flowers, Where never Winter, with his icy lip, Should dare to press thy cheek.

ROLFE. My sweet enthusiast!

PRINCESS. O! 'tis from thee that I have drawn my being: Thou'st ta'en me from the path of savage error, Blood-stain'd and rude, where rove my countrymen, And taught me heavenly truths, and fill'd my heart With sentiments sublime, and sweet, and social.

Oft has my winged spirit, following thine, Cours'd the bright day-beam, and the star of night, And every rolling planet of the sky, Around their circling orbits. O my love!

Guided by thee, has not my daring soul, O'ertopt the far-off mountains of the east, Where, as our fathers' fable, shad'wy hunters Pursue the deer, or clasp the melting maid, 'Mid ever blooming spring? Thence, soaring high From the deep vale of legendary fiction, Hast thou not heaven-ward turn'd my dazzled sight, Where sing the spirits of the blessed good Around the bright throne of the Holy One?

This thou hast done; and ah! what couldst thou more, Belov'd preceptor, but direct that ray, Which beams from Heaven to animate existence, And bid my swelling bosom beat with love!

ROLFE. O, my dear scholar!

PRINCESS. Prithee, chide me, love: My idle prattle holds thee from thy purpose.

ROLFE. O! speak more music! and I'll listen to it, Like stilly midnight to sweet Philomel.

PRINCESS. Nay, now begone; for thou must go: ah! fly, The sooner to return--

ROLFE. Thus, then, adieu! [_Embrace._ But, ere the face of morn blush rosy red, To see the dew-besprent, cold virgin ground Stain'd by licentious step; Oh, long before The foot of th' earliest furred forrester, Do mark its imprint on morn's misty sheet, With sweet good morrow will I wake my love.

PRINCESS. To bliss thou'lt wake me, for I sleep till then Only with sorrow's poppy on my lids.

_Music. Embrace; and exit ROLFE, followed by ROBIN; PRINCESS looks around despondingly._

But now, how gay and beauteous was this grove!

Sure ev'ning's shadows have enshrouded it, And 'tis the screaming bird of night I hear, Not the melodious mock-bird. Ah! fond girl!

'Tis o'er thy soul the gloomy curtain hangs; 'Tis in thy heart the rough-toned raven sings.

O lover! haste to my benighted breast; Come like the glorious sun, and bring me day!

_Song._

When the midnight of absence the day-scene pervading Distils its chill dew o'er the bosom of love, Oh, how fast then the gay tints of nature are fading!

How harsh seems the music of joy in the grove!

While the tender flow'r droops till return of the light, Steep'd in tear drops that fall from the eye of the night.

But Oh! when the lov'd-one appears, Like the sun a bright day to impart, To kiss off those envious tears, To give a new warmth to the heart; Soon the flow'ret seeming dead Raises up its blushing head, Glows again the breast of love, Laughs again the joyful grove; While once more the mock-bird's throat Trolls the sweetly various note.

But ah! when dark absence the day-scene pervading Distils its chill dew o'er the bosom of love, Oh! fast then the gay tints of nature are fading!

Oh! harsh seems the music of joy in the grove!

And the tender flow'r droops till return of the light, Steep'd in tear drops that fall from the eye of the night.

PRINCESS. Look, Nima, surely I behold our captive, The prince Miami, and our cruel priest.

NIMA. Lady, 'tis they; and now they move this way.

PRINCESS. How earnest are their gestures; ah! my Nima, When souls like theirs mingle in secret council, Stern murder's voice alone is listen'd to.

Miami too at large--O trembling heart, Most sad are thy forebodings; they are here-- Haste, Nima; let us veil us from their view.