Ranolf and Amohia A dream of two lives. By Alfred Domett. New edition, revised |
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 | Ranolf and Amohia |  |
V.
And often had she fixed the day to start,
Yet could not bear from all life's light to part;
The project oft deferred, was still renewed
Whenever Ranolf's restlessness she viewed;
Until one night arrived for her and him
That filled their cup of misery to the brim.
That day a precious letter from his home—
With slanting oval postmarks blue and red,
And scrawls “Try here—try there” all overspread—
Had (passed from tribe to tribe) to Ranolf come;
And with it, news that all the Chiefs who shared
The great proposed invasion were prepared
With countless guns and piles of packed-up food
And war-canoes and crowds of warriors good
To start in sanguinary, sanguine mood.—
Yet could not bear from all life's light to part;
The project oft deferred, was still renewed
Whenever Ranolf's restlessness she viewed;
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That filled their cup of misery to the brim.
That day a precious letter from his home—
With slanting oval postmarks blue and red,
And scrawls “Try here—try there” all overspread—
Had (passed from tribe to tribe) to Ranolf come;
And with it, news that all the Chiefs who shared
The great proposed invasion were prepared
With countless guns and piles of packed-up food
And war-canoes and crowds of warriors good
To start in sanguinary, sanguine mood.—
And Amo all that eve had sate and gazed
With tearful looks, how fond! on Ranolf's face
And eyes so seldom from the letter raised,
Or fixed in sad abstraction far away,
While on his knees the fatal missive lay;
And fancied all his thoughts she well could trace—
With maddening hopelessness how they would run
Upon the Sister—Mother—long unseen;
And what a roar of Ocean—vast—unknown—
And obstacles far greater, stood between
Those loved ones and the Brother and lost Son;
And some sweet phantom Shape still dearer, she
Would fancy in his picture there must be!
'Twas then, and there, with burning—bursting heart
And choking throat—she bound herself, alone
Come what come might—next morning to depart.
With tearful looks, how fond! on Ranolf's face
And eyes so seldom from the letter raised,
Or fixed in sad abstraction far away,
While on his knees the fatal missive lay;
And fancied all his thoughts she well could trace—
With maddening hopelessness how they would run
Upon the Sister—Mother—long unseen;
And what a roar of Ocean—vast—unknown—
And obstacles far greater, stood between
Those loved ones and the Brother and lost Son;
And some sweet phantom Shape still dearer, she
Would fancy in his picture there must be!
'Twas then, and there, with burning—bursting heart
And choking throat—she bound herself, alone
Come what come might—next morning to depart.
| Ranolf and Amohia | |