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Like plumage of the raven is her heavy silken hair,
Which she binds with scarlet blossoms–with strings of wampum rare;
And the crimson hue that flushes her soft though dusky cheek
Is like the sunbeam’s parting blush upon the mountain peak.
O, never since Niagara first thundered down in pride
Had the Spirit of its waters so beautiful a bride!

Chorus of Indian Women.

Ah, Minahita! sister fair,
What lot with thine can now compare?
‘Mid all the daughters of our race
Peerless in beauty and in grace.
More blest than if in wifehood’s pride
Thou stood’st at some young warrior’s side,
Or with fair children round thy knee
Didst crown thy young maternity!

III.

MINAHITA.

My heart is throbbing with solemn joy,
May no earthly thoughts that bliss alloy,
By Sachems chosen and tribesmen all–
I gladly lead, and obey the call!

TOLONGA.

Ah, spoken well, my daughter, and worthy of thy sires,
Who’ve ever held an honored place around our council fires!
My foot treads earth more proudly, my heart beats quick and high,
To know that, like a Sachem’s child, my daughter goes to die!
Though Mamtou denied me a son to glad mine age,
To follow in the warpath when our foes fierce combat wage.
I offer him, with grateful heart, thanksgiving deep and warm
That he has placed a warrior’s heart within thy fragile form.

Aria.

Just sixteen spring-tides hast thou seen
Beneath the forest shade,
And ever sweet and mild of mien,
Like sunbeam hast thou played
Around my widowed home and heart–
Yet thou and I must quickly part.

As firmly as the towering oak,
Deep rooted in the earth,
Can brave the storm and thunder stroke,
So, even from thy birth,
Deep love for thee hath held my heart,
And yet, ungrieving, must we part.

And closely as the ivy clings
Around some forest tree,
Till from its glossy em’rald rings,
No bough or limb is free,
So art thou twined around my heart,
And yet, rejoicing, must we part!

IV.

OREIKA.

Alas, my sister, do not chide
That thoughts of grief, instead of pride,
Within my heart lie deep;
Fain would I speak with mien elate
Of thy predestined glorious fate,
And yet I can but weep.

When come the short’ning Autumn days,
While gathering in the golden maize,
I’ll miss thy tender voice,
And when our merry maidens say:
“Oreika, join us in our play,”
How can I then rejoice?

And, oh! I will not grieve alone,
For when another moon has flown,
And Osseo will return,
Hopeful, to seek thee for his bride,
How deeply will his heart be tried
When he thy fate shall learn!

MINAHITA.

Enough, my sister, wouldst make me sad,
When my smile should be bright and my heart be glad?
You know ’tis an honor to sire and race,
And to shrink from my lot would bring dire disgrace.
For no earthly love must I weakly pine,
I yield to a suitor of rank divine.
To my girlhood’s love must I say farewell–
To the dreams that were sweeter than words can tell!
The chill embrace of the waters cold,
Clasping my form in their viewless hold,
Laving my brow in their terrible play,
Tangling my locks with their glittering spray,
Freezing my warm blood, stifling my breath,
With awful kisses that bring but death,–
To such endearments I now must go
Where my Spirit bridegroom dwells below.

OREIKA.

‘Tis fearful, alas! and must it be?

MINAHITA.

What would’st thou?

OREIKA.

Flee, oh quickly flee!
Through secret paths seek Osseo’s side,
Who will gladly welcome and shield his bride;
To far-off lands thou with him canst fly,
In mutual love to live and die!