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MINAHITA.

Thou forgettest, my sister! An Indian maid
Not of death, but dishonor, should be afraid.
Thou did’st couple love with dear Osseo’s name,
But love would be short-lived if joined with shame!
My father bowed ‘neath dark disgrace,
My name a bye-word to all my race,
I would find no joy in my rescued life,
Dogged by remorse and inward strife,
Till, hiding myself from all friendly ken,
I should die, despised by both Gods and men.
No, sister, better an early grave
In yon lone dell where the pine-trees wave;
Better a fiery death at the stake,
While foes fierce sport of the captive make,
With cruelest tortures that man can frame,–
Thrice better, than life with dishonored name!

V.

TOLONGA, MINAHITA, DOLBREKA.

TOLONGA.

Daughter of a dauntless race,
Now draws nigh the solemn hour,
Which, O maid of childlike grace,
Well might make the bravest cower!
Thundering down the awful steep,
Hear Niagara’s waters leap,
Tossing, surging, flecked with foam,
Child, my child, they call thee home!

MINAHITA.

I am ready! See, I wear
Wampum belt and garments gay;
Mark my smoothly braided hair,
Decked with shells and wild flower spray,
My wrists their silver circlets bear,
Polished with maiden’s patient care;
Unshrinking from the stormy foam,
I’m ready for my wild, chill home!

DOLBREKA.

Girl, thou art a worthy bride
For Niagara’s fierce King!
Men will think of thee with pride,
Maidens will thy courage sing,
Sachems tell of thee with praise,
Warriors on thee proudly gaze,
While pure and fair as ocean foam,
Thou passest to the Spirit’s home.

Chorus of Indian Braves.

We have launched the light canoe
Upon Niagara’s waters blue,
‘Tis white and bright as an ocean shell,
Swifter than the sea gull’s wing,
Worthy the hand that will guide it well,
Amid the foam wreaths the wild waves fling.

Chorus of Indian Women.

And it is freighted with fragrant flowers,
The brightest culled ‘mid our forest bowers,
Fruits ripened beneath the sun’s warm rays–
And silky tassels of golden maize,
And with them the maid who is doomed to bring
These gifts to the pitiless Cataract King.

Chorus of Male and Female Voices.

Fair are the flowers, but she’s fairer far,
Lovelier she than the Evening Star,
Pure as the moonbeams that tremulous shine,
Flooding the earth with their sheen divine.

VI.

TOLONGA.

Oh weary heart! I have wandered lone
Close to Niagara’s awful throne;
I’ve gazed till his roar and fearful might
Have dulled mine ear and blinded my sight;
I’ve heard the hoarse and terrible song
Of the mountain waves as they rolled along,
And plunged down the watery precipice steep,
Like white-robed furies that whirl and leap.
I thought of my child’s fair form and face
Grasped in their stormy, cruel embrace,
The tender arms that have clasped me oft
In dying agony flung aloft,
The delicate limbs a helpless prey
To their maddened rage, or demon play;
And I turned aside in anguish wild.
Oh, wretched Father! My child, my child!
But I must be calm and act a part,
Nor show the fierce grief that rends my heart;
A Seneca chief must learn to hide
His pangs ‘neath a mask of stoic pride.

VII.

MINAHITA. Prayer.

Hear me, Thou great and glorious One!
Protector of my race!
Whom in the far-off Spirit Land
I shall soon see face to face;
I ask Thee, humbly bending
Before Thy Mighty Throne,
To cleanse me from all stain of sin
And make me soon thine own:
My people guard and bless,
All wrongs and ills redress,
Their enemies subdue,
And for the youth, the life, I freely yield,
Give them peace, plenty, victory in the field,
And honest hearts and true.