"The Lovers" by George Copway
The sky were gorgeously tinged
With gold, and purple, and all dyes
Which make the summer sunset skies
So lovely, and whose rays impart
To every impulse of the heart
Such chastened, hallowed thoughts, as are
Akin to the soft light which there
Beams forth so beautifully bright,
Sweet herald of approaching nighte!
O'er the calm waters of the bay,
Where the Ojibway Island lay,
Those rays are glanced in many a track
To the bright clouds, which send them back
Beneath the waters where they glow,
Forming a mimic heaven below.
Oh! that such hallowed scenes as this
Should ever look on ought but bliss!
When the fond soul hath felt the power
Of this enchanting, soothing hour
To wipe out every stain which care
Or sin hath left corroding there,—
Oh! why will it again return
To drink from the polluted urn,
With which guilty pleasures allure
The bosoms thus, once, rendered pure.
——————————
This lovely scene has passed away,
And the last tints of dying day
Are fading from the western skies,—
When MO-NING-WUN-UH, there arise
Along thy shores a voice's wail,
Whose accents through thy lovely vale
All sorrowful and plaintive spreade;—
It is the wailing for the deadd.
When the light barks, the rest that bore,
Passed rapidly upon thy shore,
A maiden band was there to find
If brother, lover, stayed behind;
And as they found them there, or not,
With joy or grief they left the spot,—
And now when the faint twilight spreads
Its sombre veil above their heads,
The voice of mother, sister, bride,
Is mingled in the plaintive tide,
For those they may not greet again,
Who sleeps upon the battle plain.
But one was there from whose distressed
And deeply agitated breast
No wailings flowed;—she could not weep,—
Her agony was all too deep.
ME-ME, fair child of light and love!
Lovely and beautiful above
All earthly power to describe,
In the soft language of her tribe.
She had most fitting]y been styled
The dove, so innocent and mild
The feelings nature had impressed
Upon her bright and sinless breast.
No thought which did not breathe of Heaven
Had ever to her heart been given,—
No passion angels might not own
Had ever in her dark eyes shone,—
But all was hallowed, pure and bright
As heaven's own celestial light.
The form that held that soul encased
So sinless, was the no less graced
With more that the rapt heart ere deemed
Of bright when it most fondly dreamed.
She loved with all the power of such,
To love when tones from others touch
The chords which with responsive thrill
Vibrate in their own heart until
There is no power or faculty
Within the soul, all joyously
Which doth not tremble with the weight
Of feeling which it hath in freight.
Such was the love, so pure, so deep,
ME-GI-SI from its mystic sleep
Had wakened never more to rest,
To life within her gentle breast.
They loved as mortals never should—
To stake the whole life hath of good
Upon one cast, and see that fail,—
O, the sad tortures which assail
The trusting heart! and ME-ME felt
Hers with this bitter anguish melt,
When he whose smiles alone could give
All for which she would wish to live,
Came not, and as she deemed no more
Would roam with her their happy shore.
There was a sweet secluded spot,
A gentle point which slightly shot
With sloping bank into the bay,
Where often at the close of day,
Apart from those whose noisy mirth
Had in it all too much of earth
For pleasures of that hallowed kind
Which love had in their hearts enshrined,
She and ME-GI-SI passed the hours
In weaving garlands of bright flowers,
And circling with Jove's trembling hand
Around their brows the fragrant band,
Or breathing to each other's ear
The tender words they loved to hear,—
He with a deep and noble feel ing
His passion's fervent strength revealing,
While she with less of words perchance,
But with a bright, enraptming glance
From her full eyes responsive turned,
To all that in his own heart burned;
Or leaning fondly on his breast,
She sung the dying day to rest.
Now, while with melancholy swell
The dirge upon the night air fell,
She sought this spot, and, seated there,
Upon her hands she bowed her fair
And gentle, face, o'er which was spread
The marble paleness of the dead.
Ah! ME-ME! none can ever know
The full extent of that deep woe
Which wrung thy heart, until the hour
When they, like thee, have felt its power
While thus she sat, a bark appeared,
And to this spot its swift course steered.
A moment, and its prow was fast
Upon the shore, and from it passed
A tall and noble youth, who went
With gentle steps and slowly bent
In saddened fondness by her side.
She saw him not; for sorrow's tide
Had swept across her heart until
Her senses sank beneath its chill.
But when her name he fondly spoke,
She raised her head— "ME-GI-SI" broke
In joyful accents, as she sprung
And round his neck in transport clung.
The sudJen joy his presence brought
Upon her heart so overwrought,
Her consciousness fled with the shock,
And now like ivy to the rock
She lay in sweet, unconscious rest,
Entwined around her lover's breast.
And when at length her eyes unclosed
To his, on whose breast she reposed,
The look was all so mild and sweet
With which those eyes her lover's greet,
As though their light beamed from a soul
Into which Heaven's sunshine stole.
"To what a fearful weight of grief
Beloved, thou hast brought relief!"
Thus she began, "I ask not what
The reasons why thou earnest not,
When others of our tribe returned,
From whom the fearful tale I learned
That thou hadst fall'n beneath the art
Of one of those of icy heart,—
Once in the power of whose dread spell
None e'er returned his fate to tell.
It is enough for my glad heart
To know that here again thou art,—
That oft in this, our loved retreat,
With gladsome hearts, we yet may meet,—
To tell o'er and o'er to thee
How very dear thou art to me,—
And thou to fold me to thy breast,
And say 'thou art in that love blest.'
O! when we meet at times like this,
It seems as though the whole of bliss
Which ever in the bright world shone,
Gathers in my poor heart alone!
To gaze, in fondness on thy brow,
And feel thy heart, as I do now,
Beneath my own so wildly beat,—
To hear thy words so soft and sweet
Call me, as oft they do, thy bride,
O! what hath earth to give beside!
When will the war-cry cease to grieve
My heart, because it bids thee leave;
While I an hundred times a day
Come to this lovely spot to pray,
Until it seems my heart would break
To the Great Spirit for thy sake.
Say, must thou yet again expose
Thy life among those cruel foes,
The fearful Sioux?—but ah, love! why
Breaks from thy bosom that deep sigh?
Has thy heart any care? ah, say,
And let me kiss that care away,"
She said, and with her fingers fair
She brushed away the raven hair
Which o'er his forehead clustering strayed,
And then upon his brow she laid
Her gentle lips. ME-GI-SI felt
His purpose almost in him melt,
And for a moment he forgot
His sad, inexorable lot,
So sweet the thrill that kiss had sent
Through his sad heart; but when he bent
His eyes upon her lovely face,
And saw how deep and pure the trace
Of trusting love in every look,
His bosom heaved, and his soul shook
With the intensity of pain
Its breaking chords had to sustain,
As rushing thoughts again impress
The withering, blighting consciousness
That he no more upon that smile
Which had such power to beguile,
Could in the bliss of former days
Fix his full soul's adoring gaze.
Alas! he knew the dream was past,
And this fond look must be his last.
He knew that should those eyes beam yet
When he was gone, as wnen they met,
He could not, must not, from the sight
Receive, as he had done, delight.
He knew if yet that cheek should wear
The hallowed smiles which now were there,
The thrills of rapture they impart
Must fall upon another's heart.
If those eyes beam! If that cheek glow!
Alas! He doth too sadly know,
His prcseneo only can awake
Those smiles which beam but for his sake,—
That he alone can give the light
Without which they will sink in night.
'Twas this which gave the deadliest sting
To all his soul was suffering.
If he alone might meet the blow,
And his heart only feel tho woe,—
If on his own the blight might rest,
And leave unscathed her tender breast,
He could sustain the seathing stroke,
And firmly meet it like the oak
Whose trunk lightning indeed might break,
But whose firm roots they could not shake
But that the misery he knew
Should tear her heart asunder, too!—
O! that was torture all too deep;
He felt these thoughts in tumult sweep
Across his brain,—and when at length
A powerful effort called the strength
Into his prostrate breast again,
And he so far o'ercame its pain
As to, in broken words, relate
The tale he know must seal their fate,
It was with accents so subdued ,
In spi te of all his fortitude,
As though at every word he spoke
A chord within his sad heart broke.—
"Ah! ME-ME, thou hast been and art
The sparkling dew-drop of my heart,
Beneath whoso brightness I have felt
In that of love all feelings melt;—
O, 'twas a glorious dream that stole
So sweetly, pu rely o'er my soul:—
I did not deem that I should wake
To see my heart with that dream break.
But, ME-ME, that bright dream is fled:—
Like the cold fingers of the dead,
I feel its dead joys o'er my breast
In icy suffoc ation pressed.
O, what but thee and this dead spot
Wo uld I not give could I but blot
From memory all that hath passed
Since in this bower we parted last.
I've struggled, but it is in vain;
The fire is in my heart and brain,
And will not cease its torturing strife
Until extinguished with my life.
Thou knowest the totem I have borne
Is not such as by thy tribe worn;—
That we, unknowing what its name,
Have often wondered how it came
That I alone have worn a crest
Differing so strangely from the rest.
'Tis strange no more; the battle-field
The mystery hath at length revealed,
And thy fond lover hath his sire
Among the foe whom thy tribe's ire
Hath driven from their native land,
A scattered but unconquered band.
Yes, ME-ME, I am one of those,
Thy nation's fiercest, deadliest foes,
Whom, but a moment since, so truee
Thou didst well term the fearful Sioux.
Fearful they are, and will be yet, '
To those who shall their path beset.
Thou knowest between this tribe of thine
And that which henceforth must be mine
Exists a hatred strong as death,
Resigned not even with their breath.
Judge, then, if they could e'en abide
To see the dove the eagle's bride.
Alas! l ME-ME, it may not be,
And were it not, my love, for thee,
I could rejoice that my firm nerve
To direful vengeance yet might serve,
For her whose soft and gentle lays
Were carolled to my infant days,
But whom the Ojibway beguiled,
And robbed at once of wife and child;—
And I have sworn my soul to give
To retribution while I live;—
But short the moments that remain
Before that vow will be in vain.—
To-morrow's sun will see its beam
Flashed back in many a war-knife's gleam,
And yonder waters on whose breast
The moonbeams now so sweetly rest,
Shall clrink before the day shall close,
The mingled blood of warring foes.
And I shall be amidst the strife,—
But not as erst, against the life
Of sire and kindrdd warrior, no,—
My arm must find more fitting foe.
Something forewarns me that my blood
Shall mingle with to-morrow's flood;
I feel it now within my heart,—
To-night, for the last time, we part;
And yonder stars which shine so bright,
When they oome not another night,
Will look upon my bleeding form
No longer with life's pulses warm,
And that brow, cold, and damp in death,
So lately hallowed by thy breath.
But let it come! Why should I live
When life hath nothing now to give
But blighted hopes and vain regrets;
And every lingering sun that sets
Adds only to the bitter store
With which the heart was charged before.
Yet O, how happy! were it not
That this inexorable lot
Hath interposed its withering blight
Between my heart and all that's bright,
How happy to observe each day
Beneath thy sweet smile pass away,
To feel thy warm breath on my cheek,
To see thee, love thee, hear thee speak,—
And shield thy tender heart from all
Which on it might too rudely fall.
Bright picture of our former days,
But one on which I must not gaze,—
l've braved both friends' and foemen's power
For the enjoyment of this hour,—
To bathe my soul once more in light,
Ere it sink into endless night."
He paused, and closer to his breast
The maiden's form he wildly pressed,
As if that pressure could keep nndcr
A heart which else would. burst asunder.
And there they 8tood, that hapless pair,
The victim each of mute despair;
Yet how exalted, noble, pure,
The anguish which their souls endured—
When the full bosom swells like this
With feelings boundless, fathomless,
There's something so exalted there,
That e'en though springing from despair,
The heart would scarce desire repose
If purchased at the life of those.
Sensations vague and undefined
Had agitated MW-ME's mind
\Vhen first, ME-GI-SI's words conveyed
The destiny o'er them weighed,—
But when at length, she knew the worst,
And the full truth upon her burst,
A pang shot through her heart and brain,
But one,—and all was calm again;
But with that pang had fled all sense
Of pain or woe forever hence.
''T'was so intense no other grief
Could wake a throe, however brief,
And then a holy calmness came,
Succeeded to the passioned flame,
Which had so brightly, till that hour,
Maintained within her breast its power.
It was a calmness ,which had birth
In the conviction that the earth
With all its pleasure, all its sweet,
Had nothing which could ever cheat,
Even for one brief moment's flight,
The sadness of her bosom's blight.
All tranquility she raised her head,
Drooping like lily, o'er its bed,
And gently loosed her from the clasp
Convulsive of her lover's grasp,
And spoke with look so calm and mild,
It might alrrost be said she smilecl,
But such a smile, as one might trace,
Upon the cold and marble face
Of one whose spirit had just riven
The bonds which checked its flight to heaven.—
" ME-GI-SI, O, how glad would I
Lay this poor body down to die,
Could it but bring again to thine
The joy that can no more be mine.
Let not thy ME-ME's broken heart
One sorrow to thine own impart;
O, no, but go, forget, that we
Have ever loved so trustfully.—
Thy duty calls, then be it so,
And let no thought of me e'er throw
Across thy breast a single cloud
The sunshine of its peace to shroud.
What though this fate shall blight my powers
Like early frosts, the gladsome flowers,
And my poor body find its rest
Full soon, upon the earth's cold breast?
My spirit still shall hover near thee,
And this, its only thought to cheer thee,
And pour most fondly into thine
The light which in itself shall shine.
Yes, go, forget that we have met,
Or if thou canst not all forget,
Think of it as a dream which stole
In night's calm hours into thy soul,
Whose memory perchance may cling
Around thy softened heart and fling
A shade of sadness which you may
Not altogether dash away,
But which thou shouldst not let control
The strength and bravery of thy soul.—
No, if thou canst not banish all,
And memory will at times recall
The gladsome hours our hearts have known,
Thrilled by each other's look and tone,
There let thy fond thoughts only dwell\
On this, thy ME-Me loved thee well,
And only look on those sweet hours
As thou would'st look on lovely flowers,
From which the freshness might be fled,
But which, though withered, yet would shed
Their fragrance sweet as when their hue
Was heightened by the night's soft dew.
O! let me deem that thus thy heart
Will look on mo, and I can part
With one less pang from all those bright
And happy dreams which take their flight,
Till on the far-off spirit-shore
We meet again to part no more."
O, Love! How hallowed, noble, pure,
The feeling which thou secure
Unto the breast where thou dost deign
To institute thy perfect reign!
When touched by thee, how all the dross
Of earthly passions, which so toss
And heave their billows o'er the soul
Before it hath felt thy control,
By thy strong alchemy expelled.
Yields up the places it hath held,
And all that finds acceptance there
Is hallowed as the breath of prayer,
And ME-ME, though despair's cold breath
Had sent the icy chill of death
Over her bosom's tender chords,
Yet even then her love found words,
She fondly hoped might interpose
A power to sooth her lover's woes.
But vain! The love which thus could make
Such sacrifices, for his sake,
Had kindled in his heart the same
Self-sacrificing, generous flame,—
And when his quick sense caught this new
And last fond proof of love so true,
And saw and felt himself how much
The purpose cost which made it such,
And gazed upon her standing there
So droopingly and yet so fair,
It was too much,—he could not brook
That quiet and heart-stricken look.
He caught her up and wildly pressed
The blighted lily to his breast,
And for a moment yielded all
His heart and soul to love's fond call,
Resolved to brave scorn, torture, death,
To save that gentle heart from seath.
Fond dreamer, up! away! away!
Death and dishonor if you stay,—
But death and honor if you go—
Away! to meet your country's foe!
A moment, and he felt it true,
No word broke forth to say adieu,
But one long burning kiss he gave
Upon that brow he could not save,—
Then turned and wildly rushed again,
With wildred sense and maddened brain,
To where his light bark floating lay,
And o'er the waters shot his way.