University of Virginia Library

I. [Part I].

They played of old within a garden; the beautiful child and her companion, who was nobler and more beloved than she.

I know not of her race or lineage, but He was the son of a mighty King.

His, too, were the strength and the wisdom, therefore he owed her the more tender love,

For she was framed to listen to, and to be lured by all things. She would eat of the wild, harsh berry, and sport with the glittering snake.

And when she ran, she would often stumble; yet her fall was among grass and flowers, and the earth whereon she fell lightly, itself helped her to rise.

It loved her, for she belonged to it: a happy child! the nursling of earth's warm bosom, beloved by the Chosen of Heaven.

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How came it that she was lured from the blissful garden? Is there other love beside that which is of Heaven and of Earth?

A love which is dark and secret, which preys upon that which it cannot win?

Or was their love but hatred for him who loved her? Him, who dwelt with one whom no foe can reach;

So that when they sharpened their keenest arrow they could only wound him through her breast;

And he, beneath the cedar's thick pavilion, knew that his beloved dwelt among a fierce and outcast tribe;

And from afar he saw her grinding at their mills, and from afar he saw her lead their midnight dance.

She was now their toiling drudge: now was she their minion and their queen; she was always their thrall and bond-slave.

She wandered with them over many lands; they gave her to eat of a sweet and maddening root.

They taught her the secret of their spells and death-snares, until, being weaker, she became more vile than they:

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The interpretress of their dreams of evil; and the earth, because it loved her, helped her and clave unto her still.

And to her the fierce whoop of battle, the wild dance upon the withered heath,

The warm dusk gloom of the wigwam, the powwow's drowsy chant, seemed more sweet than had been to her the garden. She said, “I will return to it no more.”

Yet sometimes in the night's deep silence, when the wind brought on it the odour of the cedar, a thrill would pass across her darkened heart.

Then would she answer her brother softly, and her songs were only less sweet than his own.